I saw this guy the other week on the highway right next to the bulldogs high school in Murphy.
Hmm… something’s going on here… Can you spot it?
See the reverse dashcam attached to the back of the passenger headrest?
Just guessin’ and excuse me if I guess. But I mean, this is all publicly presented, right? All just a guess.
So, just guessin’, then, that this guy’s brother or best friend was killed by local druggies in whatever manner and that this guy has already expressed his disappointment to them, and that they then made a terroristic threat against him. Did they say “We’re going to kill you too”? And then send some bullets in his direction, and then started chasing after him? Just guessin’.
So, now he’s got his dashcam, front and back, to demonstrate any potential initiation of deadly aggression by the meth dealers, is that right? Good for him, if that’s the case. But I’m not sure that the “Shoot your local meth dealer” sticker is going to go down well as a defense in court for part of the circumstances during a self-defense incident. And I’d worry for the narcotics detectives who are baiting people about drugs in whatever way as they might have someone nudged by such a sticker to also do an extrajudicial shooting against them. Kind of defeats the purpose, right? Poor cops.
Also, this kind of thing is as likely bogus as it might be sincere. There’s a clan back near the ol’ hermitage that would hang up a rebel flag so as to look tough. And, on that road, it would in fact signal that any black guy would be shot on sight. But the reality of it was that those guys, Scots Irish, super rich, owning a zillion acres, were druggies on a national level, and had, right there, made a pact with both the Crypts and the Bloods. Get it? A little subterfuge sometimes takes place.
Just a bit of friendly advice for this local guy, upset as he is about whatever horrible suffering that has gone on. That sticker doesn’t do anyone any good. Think of another one. How about… [any suggestions for the comments box? … ]
Look, buddy: I wish you the best. Prayers for you and whoever was hurt, man. Blessings upon you.
I’ve tried to do something about the drug culture which nevertheless proceeds with impunity. It’s sooo frustrating. One drug detective, a really upstanding guy, told me about a another guy who tried to do something about the drug culture and that guy ended up getting his head blown off by a pillar amongst politicians in North Carolina, all with impunity, of course, because, you know.
What this boils down to is the judges who let druggies back on the streets so fast that they are dealing even before the officers get back to from the jail. Sooo frustrating…
The sign is now gone. Don’t know why. We have no police on active duty. We should be supporting and praying all the more. Right?
Those who benefit are the druggies and buffoons. Some hours ago, a couple of hundred yards away from me, a girl was attacked by some guy with a pitchfork, stabbing her. Because this is the new normal. It’s been going on for the last, say, three and half years, meaning that we rarely have police on active duty in town.
Why’s that you ask? Good question. Let’s investigate that. And then, let’s investigate that. And after that, let’s investigate that.
At this point I’m getting a bit cynical of “investigations.” Seems to me that as often as not the word investigation is thrown out to hang in the air while people say, “Oh! An investigation! So, someone’s doing something about it! Yay!” but really what happens is that there is no investigation at all, just laughter. Right?
I mean, I will be happy to be proved wrong about this. But after years of this, I’m really very, very cynical. And this one of my little ways to use a cattle prod on those who could do something to just go ahead and do it.
I’m sick of seeing little kids at drug houses. Just letting it go, live and let live, is tantamount to watching a slow murder. When a little kid is at a drug house it’s likely to mean that that kid is getting raped even multiple times a day, and made to be a drug addict, you know, a new scout, a new runner, a new distributor, a new money collector, a new… enforcer… a new… rapist… a new guy who takes a pitchfork and stabs some girl just down the street. But live and let live, right?
The good ol’ boys club at work? Dunno.
As for me and my house, we will continue to support and pray for the police.
Here’s a good picture of Macie-dog. The local neighborhood druggies threaten to smash her brains out with a rock. She’s the sweetest dog in the world. She barks only at druggies. Go figure. Macie-dog lives just across the street from me.
Behind her from this vantage point is Tiger-kitty. She’s had a rough life with only three legs. Sweetest cat in the world. I fear to ask why she only has three legs. I’ll have to make it a point to ask “Pablo Escobar”, the local neighborhood thug who dropped his illegal (to him) Bowie knife in the rectory backyard the other day while escaping multiple law enforcement agencies. “Pablo” has an extreme dislike of Doctor Dolittle, meaning, of animals.
While “Pablo” is hiding out in dark shadows, both Macie-dog and Tiger-kitty are alive and well and soaking up the sun.
And yes, Macie-dog is having the last laugh above.
The Squarrrsh plants are getting tired even as they pump out the most squarrrshes and the biggest they ever have. I rip out the tired leaves. In the lower right you see the tomato plant I had to rip up as it has been weed-eated. I still got six tomatoes off of it.
In this picture you’ll note a draining ditch right in the back lawn in the extreme upper right of the picture. This morning, right along this little ditch there was a raggedy holster with a Crocadile Dundee-esque knife.
I had dropped my coffee and went out back because I saw various agencies of law enforcement swarming out back in their various cruisers and on foot, also in my back yard.
I walked up to the knife just as a deputy walked up to it. He said that it belongs to the guy they’re looking for, a fellow by the name of […], whose got lots of felonies on his head. The deputy picked up the knife for evidence and asked if I had seen where he went. Situational awareness covers a lot of ground. I said the grass is soaking wet with dew. There’s his trail, I said, pointing to the grass with footprints through the heavy dew. He’s surely hiding over at […], I asserted about a business nearby. The vehicle of that business is forever seen at the druggy house where the knife guy is reigning over his kingdom of drugs and violence. In this case, if it’s true that he’s there – and that does seem to be the usual safe-house – then that would be harboring a criminal actively escaping from law enforcement. He’s got plenty of warrants out on him.
The knife guy is the guy who called himself “Pablo Escobar” and who “non-” threatened me just the other day. I’m not allowed on my own street, he said, as I don’t belong there, I don’t live there, even though I’m just a couple of houses away. It’s like, in the winter-time, my back yard is shaded by his trees in the afternoon.
Irony of ironies, he’s actually trespassing on my property, where he doesn’t belong. Hahahahaha!
Meanwhile, I had just given Shadow-dog breakfast, so he was busy and never saw the druggy intruder. Had the druggy guy actually jumped the fence, he would have met Shadow-dog much more personally, and then me, and then law enforcement.
Never a dull moment. :-)
Some have noted that I “carry” even while out for a few minutes in the back garden, watering the plants for the day and such. Well, yes, I carry. There’s a reason. Even at the break of dawn in an otherwise quiet neighborhood. Had I been out there thirty seconds earlier, believe me, this guy would have cut my head off had I not had the Glock with me.
We’ve had four beheadings in the area (for one of which I had to do the death notification to the family of the victim), plus lots of arsons, slashings and assaults and various and sundry other murders, yes, also on my “block”, just some houses away.
The 2nd amendment is great. Practice situational awareness!
Meanwhile, in the midst of mayhem, I’m always ever so calmly using that situational awareness first of all for flowers for the Immaculate Conception. More on that later.
Meanwhile, I have to laugh, as I cannot but recall a famous line in street-fighting: “You call that a knife? That’s not a knife. This is a knife:
At least that’s the way it looked to me. I’m probably wrong, right?
While driving in my own driveway – whether that’s still allowed by the thugs and buffoons – I noted that my good neighbor was out on her porch. I wanted to give her an update on the local state of affairs, that is, from literally thirty seconds previous. I’ve written about that here:
So, I walked over and she was happy to get an update. She immediately pointed out a creepy guy standing out front of a now defunct drug house, the SWAT style raid of which I was in on. I’m not saying that the “Pablo Escobar” incident is connected with this guy pictured above, but here’s the other creepy details besides what he might have in his hand:
I’m just after getting a “non-” threat at another […] house.
Creepy guy above – whatever of what he’s carrying – is S T A R I N G over at us. I mean, this is like a full thirty minutes. That’s really hard to do.
Super nervous, he’s surveilling the streets, like he’s up to no good. From that point, he can see the other entrances to the other […] house in one direction, see fully three other entrances to the other […] house in another direction, and all the way down to just about 100 yards away from the police station in another direction. And he’s forever glancing in those directions besides keeping up the S T A R I N G thing.
Finally, he walks towards us, with the neighbor’s vehicle in between us.
He hesitates, walks on their lawn behind the vehicle, stops, walks back out on the road, hesitates, gets closer, hesitates, walks directly in back of the vehicle on the neighbor’s driveway, at the doors, hesitates for like ten seconds, messing around with his shirt, finally walks back out on the street and comes in front of us.
I asked if he was looking for something. He said he was waiting for someone and then continued walking down the road, super hesitating the whole way, then stopping, undecided.
The owner of where he was suspiciously lurking drove by him, and that guy didn’t stop him to discuss if the place could be rented.
As he walked back ever so hesitatingly I told him that if he’s looking to speak to the owner of that dwelling, it’s too late, as it was just rented out that very morning. He was exasperated…. “Already! There’s no place to live around here!” But he could have asked the owner, who stopped in front of the dwelling, to see if anything else was available. He did not.
The S T A R I N G then continued. His glancing up to the entrances of the other […] house continued. We waited until he finally left.
I am going to defend my neighbors. They are like family to me.
On the one hand, what I think he was doing was, as a perhaps homeless guy… he was perhaps looking to break into that dwelling. He was walking round back when he wasn’t S T A R I N G.
On the other hand, if he was telling the truth, I’m guessing that he was a lookout for the other […] house mentioned in the link above, and the guy he was waiting for was the guy that I had been talking to, and who threatened me with the, you know, conditional “non”-threat. I mean, he was going to die of nervousness as he looked also at all the entrances to the other […] house. That would have been interesting if the other guy came over and they started firing. Things like that can catch your attention.
Meanwhile, resignations are coming in fast and furious, so to speak, at our tiniest of all tiny police departments: our great chief is gone, another great officer is gone, yet another great officer is gone. There’s a question mark over few who remain. The thing is, the thugs and buffoons know all this, and it’s making them a little bolder in all their cowardice.
Recall that, in my immediate neighborhood, Cooper the Therapy Pony has been shot with a pellet gun many times; Laudie-dog was shot in the neck with a pellet gun; Franky-dog was shot with a hunting-pellet gun, with that round being inoperable, still in his shoulder as seen in the x-ray; Shadow-dog has been shot with a pellet gun I think four times, while Shadow-dog’s dog-house was shot by a 9mm bullet; Macie-dog has gotten death threats from thugs and buffoons on this same street, twice, the last time being just the other night: the thugs and buffoons were saying how they were going to get a rock and mash her brains out of her skull.
Statistically, those who abuse and torture and outright kill animals do the same to human beings, you know, smacking down their “partners”, throwing any kids through dry-wall and windows, doing home invasions, beheadings, burnings… The usual. It’s all here. Doing the Doctor Dolittle thing is a way to discover who’s who in violence and death and arson and rape, and so on… against people.
Note that all of my neighbors without exception have suffered property invasions and thefts and immediate threats of death (including, at the time, a three year old girl). But the rectory here hasn’t suffered any property or home invasions or thefts, yet, anyway. That’s because Shadow-dog, unlike any other dog, is to be most-feared by those who are malicious. Animals know where everyone is on the malicious-benevolent scale. The thugs and buffoons hate Shadow-dog most especially.
Shadow-dog doesn’t bark at good people, but goes off on a rant of politically incorrect commentary – so very loud – over against those who are entirely malicious, with all of their chains and knives and machetes and tape-handled lead pipes and guns and Avtomat Kalashnikova 47s, and 700 series Remington sniper rifles. Shadow-dog keeps the thugs and buffoons at bay, so far, anyway. He’s a happy, happy dog.
Incident with “Pablo Escobar” communicating “non-” threats to yours truly, as Doctor Dolittle.
Yesterday, on my way home, I was literally a stone’s throw away from the vast array of Doctor Dolittle-esque animals in my own immediate neighborhood, like Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog, like the Town Branch Snapper-turtle and the three-legged Tiger-cat, like Cooper the Therapy-Pony and Pyro-dog, Franky-dog and Macie-dog, from vultures and hawks to finches and humming birds… a Doctor Dolittle-esque paradise.
While just a short distance from pulling into my own driveway, a guy in a notorious […] house, standing in the doorway of his front porch, yelled at me as I nicely drive by on the public street of my own otherwise quiet neighborhood. I didn’t hear what he had communicated, so, not wanting to be impolite to any of my nice neighbors, I continued up to the T-intersection, turned around, returning to the shrieker-guy.
I wasn’t taking pictures of any licence plates, just driving by minding my own business. But when I turned around, I had the presence of mind to turn on the dash cam.
Pablo Escobar, the world’s most notorious cartel boss (perhaps after “El Chapo”) in a 1976 mugshot. Born 1 December 1949; died 2 December 1993, 44 years old. He took a bullet to the head.
In the subsequent conversation the shrieker-guy will call himself “Pablo Escobar.” I’m guessing the real Pablo Escobar is the shrieker-guy’s hero that he wants to emulate. Here’s the conversation:
Father George: “You were saying something to me.”
“Pablo Escobar”: [garbled]
Father George: “Sorry…?”
“Pablo Escobar”: “Why you all out taking pictures?”
Father George: “I wasn’t.”
“Pablo Escobar”: “Yes, you have. You’re not the police.”
Father George: “I can do that on public property.”
“Pablo Escobar”: “This is private property.”
Father George: “This is a public street.”
“Pablo Escobar: “But you don’t live on this street. You need to get off it. O.K.?”
Father George: “Or else…?”
“Pablo Escobar”: “Or else, what… ’cause I’m gonna give you a break like none other. I’m gonna give you an option: IF ! I know the law too, buddy, so just fuck off. Have a nice day.”
Father George: “Where are you from?”
“Pablo Escobar”: “It doesn’t matter where I’m from.”
Father George: “What’s your name.”
“Pablo Escobar”: “Oh, yeah! My name is, uh, Pablo Escobar. What’s yours? Doctor Dolittle? For real, man, get off this property. Thank you, and have a nice day.”
So, as I say, that’s “Pablo Escobar” communicating a “non-” threat. It’s a conditional: “If…” So, whatever. Nothing you can do about any conditional “If…” It’s nothing. No big deal. It’s like saying, “If you take another breath, I will make sure that you don’t do it ever again, so it’s up to you if you want to take another breath. The consequences if you do are on you.” Or how about this: “If you drive to your driveway from this street, I will make sure that you don’t do it ever again. So if you ever drive on that street a stone’s throw away from your own house over to your own driveway, the consequences to make sure you never do so again are on you.”
To that I say: “Pfft…” This means nothing. Empty blather. Bullies are always cowards. And for all his tough talk, with him seeing that I was ever so calm and friendly and just asking where he’s from and what his name is, I could see that he was having doubts about his bravado. Two young women showed up behind him. He had to show off. Again: Pfft…
I just don’t like being ordered off the street of my own immediate neighborhood. He’s got a good idea though. Pictures of licence plates! The Sheriff told me the other day that he has never even once seen a picture of a licence plate which belonged to the actual car it was on if that picture was taken of a vehicle at a […] house. You know the drill. The licence plate hangs awkwardly off the bumper with one screw as it’s so often transferred to other vehicles. It can often be that the vehicles are stolen, or the tags are out of date, or there’s no insurance, or the driver is suspended, or the driver has multiple felony warrants and is on the lam…
Anyway, I slowly, quietly, ever so politely drove over to my own driveway, but that’s when the real trouble started up. Stay tuned. Never a dull moment in this neighborhood. And the two incidents might well be connected.
And, by the way, just to say, I live in an otherwise wonderful neighborhood. I love it here and being in the mountains. The paradise aspect of the garden God planted back in Genesis is so very evident. It’s really too bad and sad that there are some who have no appreciation of the paradise aspect of the garden that God planted. Too bad. Too sad.
I’m sorry, but I have to categorize this under “humor” since this guy was just so unsure of himself, really lame in his brashness. I mean, it is too bad and too sad, but I can’t help laughing at the ineptness of it all. I am a little concerned about Shadow-dog and Macie-dog. I’m such a Doctor Dolittle that I wouldn’t want to see them harmed in any way. I have to wonder if the real Pablo Escobar tortured and killed animals…
By the way and just to say, my ecclesiastical superiors tell me that real Catholics don’t run away, and in this Diocese we’re not going to be run off; we’re not going to run away.
Language and violence in that Sicario clip. My reason to put it up is that for the past couple of weeks or so there have been cars exactly like those portrayed in that short video above from the El Paso – Ciudad Juárez border engaging-of-the-threat, but this time just outside the rectory. They’re going to a nearby drug house, as are much more expensive vehicles that are tagged from far distant drug-entry states. As in the above clip, the vehicles carry a driver and three passengers, windows down, ready for action, moving in a kind of slow moving convoy, surveilling every inch just a couple of miles an hour about 100 yards apart from each other, occupants tatted up the neck to the shaved heads and face. The licence plates hang crooked, attached by only one screw on one corner…
As I’ve always noted with druggies, even if they are intensely aware of you noticing them they absolutely won’t look back at you for even a nanosecond – this comment of mine being made from the perspective of a police pursuit vehicle. All of the LEOs I’ve discussed this with confirm that this is what happens. It’s repeated all day, all night. It is what it is. You can have lights glaring and sirens blaring and they won’t bother to glance over, though all tensed up, ready to run or… worse. “Oh, I didn’t see or hear you, officer!”
Don’t think this white boy is guilty of profiling the black and the brown. Why would anyone think that anyway? No, no. These guys, all guys, are all white boys.
It’s all surreal, as if they were purposely playing out the same scene in Sicario. Even the posture of Red and White Shirt in the video above at the start of the video. Every detail identical, like it was even the same actors from the same scene, though not. All white.
Just the other day, one of the druggie guys was allegedly “communicating threats” (a legal term, by the way) to a dear neighbor of mine, saying that they were going to kill that neighbor’s dog, that sweet, sweet dog.
If threats are communicated regarding such a sweet dog, imagine what the attitude must be toward good ol’ Shadow-dog whose owner is a police-chaplain and Catholic priest.
So far, I’ve had a hand in ridding the town of Andrews of three druggie houses, two next to the church (they were using the parking lots of the church as overflow parking, which just ain’t gonna be allowed to happen) and another next to the rectory (with imminent and deadly threats against against a child), etc.
There have been plenty of law enforcement agencies visiting this newest druggie house for quite a while. The druggie house, just a stone’s throw away, is getting to be annoying as they start to communicate threats. I’m concerned about the safety of my neighbor. Total respect for law enforcement as the situation starts to heat up.
Note well: The threats against pets and against children are typical of the ultra-tough looking druggies. They are all supreme cowards and pick on those who can’t fight back. Cute pet dogs? Really? Infant girls? Really?
No violence so far? That refers to the new druggie house. We’ll see what happens with that. There was a slashing knife attack at the other druggie house next to me sending another to the hospital. When we did a SWAT-style raid on the druggie house, there was not only a load of drugs, but also plenty of guns and martial arts weapons. The police acted superbly, demonstrating themselves to be capable and always the gentlemen, even under that kind of stress. A great team.
“Can you get to the PD by 7:00 PM? You’re our chaplain, and we want you to do a prayer with us before we do a raid on the drug house du jour, and then come along for the experience.”
“Sure, I’m just crossing state lines (still a couple of states away), but I should be able to get home, feed the dogs, put on my ballistic vest, and get up to the PD by 6:55 PM. See you then.”
And that’s how it worked out, to the second. The prayer was about serving those in the community, and about getting back safe and sound with life and limb. This was a first time to participate in a raid. And right near the rectory, and across the street from the town grade school. Here’s just part of the haul, with test kits verifying some substances:
Of course, everyone is innocent until proven guilty. I’m not sayin’ nothin’ ’bout nothin’ no-how, not ever. No. Some were transported down to the jail. Some walked. Some, well, we will see. Everyone gets their day in court.
What I will say is that our PD is doing a great job serving the community. The point isn’t just about the law. This is about serving the community, particularly the grade school kids, keeping them safe, but also about those otherwise involved, giving them also a chance to start anew. Sometimes this is a way that also God permits for people to get tripped while they are running in the wrong direction in life. So, that’s great.
And mind you, these guys in the PD do this as a regular course of affairs, but this is perhaps the most dangerous thing any officer can ever do, breaking down a door and clearing a house while arresting and cuffing. Those inside are immediately filled with adrenaline, making them more unpredictable than ever. And any drugs often mean weapons. Just to say, there were two sets of nunchuks right at hand and a nunchaku guy who knew how to use them to great effect.
What’s the part of a chaplain in all this? To witness the event. To be available to the alleged perps when they’re squared away (yes, that’s very important). To be available for situational awareness in a way that now ultra-distracted officers cannot be. For instance, who, if escaping the house as the raid goes on (there can be way too many to control)… who is jumping through windows and side-doors and through hatches in the floor…), and who is running where, and their descriptions. It’s also to see if anyone comes to the house to disrupt police activity. In this case, one car kept driving by continuously. It’s a thing with me to notice cars and licence plates. Like a hobby. That became important enough for that driver to be stopped and questioned by two of the officers. It’s also to watch over items that walkers-by could grab when contingencies get out of hand, tampering with evidence, or opportunistically stealing what greedy eyes beckon them to steal.
I recall a ride-along the other week in which we did the second most dangerous thing an officer can do, which is to do a “typical” traffic stop. The second we stopped the guy, friends of that guy came from nowhere, walking from across a lawn (in the direction of a drug house), from across a field (in the direction of favorite stash niches), and two more from another drug house, and with also – immediately – two trucks blocking the road by the one drug house, and another truck blocking the road on the other side near another drug house. That’s a bit weird. No violence ensued, but that was also perhaps because a second person was with the officer, chaplain or no chaplain.
These days, everyone thinks they are entitled to interfere with police activity, ganging up on the police. This is extremely unsafe for all involved. Contingencies were getting out of hand. I was happy to have the back of the officer, who, I’m also very happy to say, is simply the best at deescalation that I’ve ever come across. All was well.
The day started with the alarm going off at 1:00 AM. Then Mass was offered in the rectory chapel, this time in French. I was tuckered out by the time the Tail of the Dragon and the exorcism and the warrant serving was all done at about 9:30 PM. I have to confess I did not go along to the jail for the delivery of those in cuffs. It probably would have been 1:00 AM again before hitting the hay. So, having been absolved from that, I went back to the rectory and crashed, totally.
All on the “Day Off.” I’m thinking we priests shouldn’t be criticized so much for taking a “Day Off.” I love a “Day Off.”
That’s me. But the experience was slightly different for one of the officers, who was injured, not seriously, but perhaps really seriously, cutting himself with “sharps” that were used by one of those inside. He must have hit a small vein or artery as the blood was flowing quite freely. That sharps were involved could be really serious. That’s something also faced by officers day-in, day-out, as with nurses in hospitals, EMTs, et al.
I must say that I was quite taken by their concern for each other with the various first aid kits flying open, and at the same time how they took this in stride. They are well aware of the sacrifice they might have to make at any time. That says a lot. Truly.
Sinaloa cartel boss ‘El Chapo’ was convicted not only drug trafficking and money laundering, but also on… wait for it…
weapons violations!
Based on that…
… now “it” begins.
But will “it” be successful?
The story behind the “weapons violations” conviction of ‘El Chapo’ is succinctly summarized in that clip above. That’s exactly how it is. Fast and Furious. Yep. With the conviction of ‘El Chapo’ there is now a question of hypocrisy. We created ‘El Chapo’. So, now it’s time for prosecuting those who created ‘El Chapo’.
So many times I went to the FBI through the years to stop such arms transfers. But, I have to say, I was unsuccessful. Bringing proof, written admissions of an arms dealer for ‘El Chapo’, the agents instead just stared hard at my eyes, making it crystal clear that they couldn’t care less about any proof, that they never saw any proof, that they were not going to receive any proof. This is across the years. A hot topic. I recommend seeing…
If you’re wondering about the why of facilitating arms dealers for an extremely violent drug cartel with corpses of victims going into the hundreds of thousands (226,000), well, let me tell you what a CIA guy told me about it. He said that it’s NEVER just about some tracking logistics with guns. No. Pfft. There’s always a much, much bigger objective. You look for someone as wild and violent as ‘El Chapo’, you give him as much weapons and ammo as he could possibly desire, so that he will kill rivals, kill soft targets to instill fear, kill police, kill military, kill government officials, kill politicians, and all that so as to create chaos, and all that so as to destroy the competing economy of a neighboring nation.
I’m sure everyone feels that they’ve ‘won’ in getting a conviction of ‘El Chapo’. You know: he’s the bad guy! But we created him. What goes around comes around. That kind of hypocrisy – disrespect – as the mafiaesque crowd would say, doesn’t sit well with the criminal element. I’m sure revenge is in the air. And now they have weapons which we arranged for them to get. This is all so foolish. There’s more death to come. I mean, does anyone think that a conviction will deter such violence? One digs one’s own hole deeper.
You can’t not convict ‘El Chapo.’
But we created him.
Deeper and deeper and deeper it goes.
So, now it gets dangerous. People will scramble to do a cover up even more.
ARISE! LET US BE GOING! 