ROMA Volume I - COMPENDIUM - [The Spoils of A General] by Samuel Kebede - The Roman Memoir - HTML preview

Chapter 20 - Carpe Diem

“Carpe Diem”, this is the current mantra of the republican party. WIth all the power in the world, they still choose to ride the blue wave towards freedom, under the period of woman, disguised as the red wave. They argue, “women should get the red”, because they menstruate at 50

the end of the month. It is a solid argument, however, when I call people over for thanksgiving, it’s not the turkey waste I serve on the plate, it's the meat. Seizing the day is a failed concept that has not brought us out of nothing but our feelings. The idea works well with vacations. It should have no place in politics. I can’t have a politician tell me “they have no plan”, for the future. I count on politicians to have a plan for the incoming hard and good times. If the elected representatives are incompetent, and they have no plans for the future of the country, what hope is left for the homeless who sleep on the streets? What hope is there for orphans? There is none.

There is no social construct, and where there is none, there is no France. When politicians abandon the health of the citizens, who were born there, I do not think there will be any capitalism, and there will be no wealth to leave behind, and there lies the division with England.

If all warfare was based on deception, then there is no welfare coming to the citizens, behind the backs of establishments, there is no China, because they not only lied to themselves, the policy makers also lied to their own military. The best the day can provide is good sleep.

When you fill up on food you made yourself, or bought with the income you earned, you have a drink to wash the mixture, then you unhook the trouser nip, to make an opening for the tummy to fall on while you watch TV, laughter fills the room, and along with the warmth of the night comes a decent living. There’s not much required from the top dollar earner than not to forsake our forefathers way of life, but no. They haul upscale for the liberation of their pockets from the hands of unworthy individuals, mostly their own family members they have not slept with. There is nothing to seize but the human morals from the twisted hands that grasp a knife between their sweaty hands, while they heave with ecstasy, to divide and conquer the life of another from their body.

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The current mind state of the Republican party can be characterized as such, The Chupacabra, Bigfoot, and The Loch Ness Monster. Much like the acronyms, they are hiding behind their agenda’s, with no truth in the basket for the easter rabbit. I do not understand why we left to hide between faux blowjobs, the left foot of the John Harvard statue, and the normal reproduction unit of humans, the creampie. Carpe diem, will only fulfill their wishes, and we who oppose the agenda of big government from taking the last piece of money from our table, are left to venture on a new road, where even the bleeding feet of George Washington, have not mounted, during the war at monmouth. While Scotland, along with their language, seeks to search for Unicorns, thereby, finding virgin women of all sorts, in spirit and mind, their Chapter 21 - E Pluribus Unum

The blue party has lost. The red party has won. Well, no one can do the red party better than the red party since they are riding us all back to Hizge, on a one way ticket to blue town.

Having known them myself, with the best government in the world we set out to build, and immigration system has brought no treasure for us to use in America. There is no value in “not sleeping with women”, monetarily, much like there is in doing so. Thereby, the tales of Paul Bunyan are only left in the mind.

things are already beyond repair. The people put in power, have the accuracy of a Chef in a spa. I do not think they can tell a human flesh from beef while they chop meat on their butchering tables. They have lost sight, and instead of reading the words on the presidential coat 52

of arms for the sake of understanding it, they are hiding in the pit of the banner with no words, where the first intention was to cast the sight of a bullet hole on the floored scroll. People with guns understand the concept when they hold a gun up to find a target, where their aim is small, so their shot can be true. Using this philosophy, they avoid reading the words on the presidential flag, since they know others do not have an aim, for if they had, they will read it says “out of many one”. And not “Seize the day”. The whole white house, when I realized this, knew it would be left spiritually, and mindlessly occupied.

There will be no work to fully trudge ahead to since, they in their tiny heart and mind, have left wishfully, towards their desire, backwards, beating on boats, ceaselessly into the past, for someone else to do the presidential job. For once, the establishment said, “without the pornography, I can bed my own wife for once”. Either they hired help is not doing a good job, or they simply want to stick it to the voters one last time before they close out their quota for the two term presidential year, right from behind us, where we might or not like it, when they dig us out deep, but since they enjoy the venture, they will ration the cause with a “firework”, cause, where they ending it on a big note, a cum forward action, right on our face, along with their closed road, dead end propaganda. I am willing to bet they want to “go out with a bang”, like the gun totters they are, hard shelled with “educating the children”. While they are hard set on setting new security for school shootings, the only thing to go off will be the patience of the blue party in their advance to revive their democracy. The traitors our nation have found a civil cause, destroy the democrats until you find office, only to hire them again, so when you finish screwing them over, they get their chance to hook you in the back, with Krispy Kreme donuts to go with their ambitions since they are the sons and daughters who graduated with higher education degrees to replace them. Their objective, no matter how brainless, is to make us like it. They 53

want us to say “it's so big”. They want us to know who the big boss is, while their Swiss accounts speak on behalf of their fatten cows. Heifers are what they are after, aboard their ship with no course, with wilting guns, asking us to board along the ship of disaster they primarily stole from us.

When they realized, their rooms were comfy, and the beds were warm, they saw it and submitted to the labour, like a donkey, and chose to ride us back to democracy, while they should have spared us the drama. In wicked anguish, they will eat their morsels, while knowing they screwed us over, and in the afternoons, when they go home to their wives and husbands, they will assure themselves, “Baby, you did the right thing, he/she was a criminal’. While in foot play with the ice cream on their lap, with a man ships the kitchen, they will reach for they opium derived medication from their counter, and dismiss their brain for the night with a cup of wine, along with the remorse and regret they had for us, because before they quenced their anger with the turmoil, that is the glass beaker, in which the only use is for measurement of the wine, they will forget us by washing the “sig hail” down with breezy wine. The next morning, we have been reduced to only a headache from last night, the regret they felt washed down with a prescription glass of wine from the doctors, who recommended dropping us like a case of a bad cold on a piece of paper, shallowly dimmed under the duress of gun aims, which they will amount to sovereignty, seeking the protection of the US army under concepts of “dodging”. As for me, there is this one cause left, using the time I have, I plan to work on this book to my utmost capacity. I have found my conceptual rubicon where I will march on the District of Columbia, with an “army”. I aim. I plan to conquer all of Gaul, and capture their hero as my prisoner for my government will have a land to stand on.

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Chapter 22 - In defense of Lust