The Concept: In the Midst of Orwellian Madness

July 31, 2020 by Carrie K. Hutchens

I never thought I would see it, but here we are. The concept is no longer merely works of fiction. We are living a present day version of George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm combined. Who would have thought so many “modern” people could be so very indoctrinated as to fall for the elite’s and elite wannabee’s spiel of lies?

We’re watching riots. There is no misunderstanding of what they are. Buildings and cars are being destroyed and burned. Citizens and police officers alike are being viciously attacked. Yet, a multitude of Democrats call it peaceful protesting and suggest the Republicans, Bill Barr and whomever else is trying to prevent people’s right to protest.

Are these Democrats that delusional or do they think we are that stupid and they will be able to convince the rest of us that the lie is the truth and the truth is the lie?

Watching and listening to a portion of the Judicial Committee hearing hosting Attorney General Bill Barr on Tuesday, July 28, 2020, I not only wanted to scream at the power seekers – I did scream at them. I screamed at them for slinging false allegations and then refusing to give the attorney general an opportunity to respond. Their behavior was childish, hateful, deceitful and worse – a conspiracy in motion.

I’d say there is no excuse for the behavior of the Democrats on that committee, but there is a reason. They are trying to grab power not rightfully theirs. They are attempting to lie their way into that power not earned nor freely given them. And… obviously… they will try to destroy anyone and anything in the way of that power grab. That, or they are simply mentally ill and so delusional that they cannot ascertain the difference between their fictional concept floating around in their defective brains & the reality actually transpiring before them. Either way – they are in the wrong.

Someone in the right need not lie nor deceive to prove their allegation or position is true. They present facts and give reason why their position should be the accepted one.

These Democrats and Republicans of ill-intent, on the other hand, tend to deceive and deceive some more!

It’s pathetic!

It’s definitely unbelievable that so many regular people are falling for the radical lib lies. How can that be? Simply use the brain without bias and one should be able to see what has been transpiring. It’s right there in plain sight. Unless one is only watching hate-Trump networks and like print material, where only half-truths (full lies) are told and the spin leaves out important information, while at the minimum offering spin, spin, spin.

Friendly reminder: Protests do not involve looting, destruction and attacks on police and others. That is RIOTING and criminal behavior.

Back to the liberal narrative…

A journalist I had admired, and liked as a person as well, surprised me a few months ago. She suggested that President Trump had mocked Serge Kovaleski disability, something that had been debunked years ago. Being good at her job – she should have known that – or did she and said it anyway to put down Trump? I don’t know. I’ll probably never know. However, I did tweet her about it and sent along a video as a reminder.

To this day, there are people who don’t like Trump because they believe he mocked the reporter’s disability. As a result, these people despise the president and see (judge) everything he says as does based on the person they believe him to be – not the person he is. In short, they are against anything he says or does prior to him saying or doing it.

If anyone needs a reminder…

Serge’s disability does not involve flailing. He has arthrogryposis.

The flailing that Trump did is what he has done for years in reference to people being flustered or frustrated. He did it in reference to Ted Cruz, too. Did anyone accuse the president of mocking his disability? Oh! That’s right. Senator Cruz doesn’t have a disability.

What about the lie that President Trump didn’t disavow David Duke, though he has repeatedly done so over the years. It’s a lie, but it was repeatedly said and to this day, even with video proof out there that it is a lie – there are people who still believe that Trump is pals with Duke.

What about the lie that President Trump said there were good people on both sides and that he was referring to the KKK and White Nationalist? No! He was talking about the people that came to protest for and against keeping the statue. That should have been obvious to anyone actually listening to what he was saying – yet… many are repeating the lie (some on purpose & some unknowingly) and other people are hating Trump and calling him a racist because of the lie – not because he is.

What I do love is when people state for fact that Trump is a liar and lies all the time, yet, when asked, to name the lies – they can’t do it. Why? Because most of the people I’ve run into that are making the claim have no idea what the alleged lies are. They are merely parroting what they have heard or been told to say.

Turns out that one of our fine outlets (sarcasm) was allegedly counting what they considered a lie, as a separate lie every time the president stated it. In other words, if an economist stated a five dollar bill was worth $5 and Trump repeated it, but their expert said it was worth 5 cents – then, rather than considering two experts were disagreeing – they claimed Trump lied. And, if he repeated that expert’s claim 100 times, then it was claimed he lied 100 times.

Difference of opinion is another area.

If Trump has a different opinion than the fine outlet (sarcasm) – he lied. He’s not allowed not to agree, it would seem.

And then there are the exaggerations merely to make a point. They are called hyperbole. You know, statements not meant to be taken literally. Like when I say, “As I’ve said a millions times” – it’s understood that I really didn’t say whatever a million times, but I’ve said it lots – maybe half a million? Yet, when President Trump does likewise – it’s called a lie by the fine outlet (sarcasm).

You may wonder what all this has to do with the riots, indoctrination, Animal Farm, 1984, and the Judicial Committee hearing with Bill Barr.

Everything.

Lies mold perceptions.

Perceptions define reception.

Reception defines reaction.

In short, if you believe one man is truthful and the other is a liar, you will most likely believe the one you consider truthful over the one you consider a liar, right? But what if your truthful man is mistakenly wrong or actually lying? What if you are blowing off the man who is actually telling you the truth, because you believe him to be a liar?

That’s the point.

When one let’s perceptions rule the roost, so to speak, rather than consider anything contrary to what they have been told and encouraged to believe – they have allowed bias to destroy their ability to come to an informed conclusion about anything. Instead, they become indoctrinated puppets to be used at will – not the smart people they think they are.

Normally, people ask questions they would like the answer to. So why would anyone, except for the people that create, present and believe all the propaganda suffocating our very existence just now, be so excited that Barr was treated with such disrespect and not allowed to answer the questions posed to him?

Wasn’t that the whole point after all – to ask and get answers?

Then, though we viewed and heard what transpired, Democrats actually came out and portrayed a scenario that suggested Barr was the rude one and Barr talked over everyone. Oh, hear me laugh rudely at their audacity to attempt a gaslight moment as I “take my time back.”

I think of the riots and wonder how anyone can actually justify allowing them to happen. It’s good because why?

It’s justified because of built up anger and oppression?

Does that mean I can go smack Nancy Pelosi around, steal her ice cream and set fire to her expensive refrigerators, because she has so upset me because her decisions affected me badly?

Well, of course not.

Neither is there an excuse for all the riots that are occurring or the people in authority that are allowing the harm to businesses, their cities and their citizens.

What’s wrong with these people?

Why are so many listening to them? Will they continue to listen once it is their home that is being destroyed and family hurt or killed?

I’ve read Animal Farm & 1984. It should be required reading for those indoctrinated puppets that have fallen victim to the propaganda of the pigs (not cops) that start out being the heroes only to lose their fairness in the pursuit of power.

Furthermore, no one should want recorded history changed from what it actually was, except for those who feel guilty for what they or their predecessors have done.

Who is trying to remove history?

It certainly isn’t the Republicans or pro-Trump people.

Shouldn’t that give pause?

Shouldn’t it give reason to take a look at what is actually transpiring, rather than what one is being told is the reality they should accept as theirs, though it really isn’t a “reality” at all?

Riots are occurring.

Governors – not Trump – are allowing those riots!

Citizens are being attacked because of the Democrats – not Trump.

Do you really think it is okay for people to be attacked because they happen to be on the street or in their business or homes, while rioters decide to do their wrongful deeds?

Some seem to be all in for the riots, so they can blame Trump, but it isn’t his fault. Nothing that can be said or done will make it his blame to claim.

Before I close, which I intend to do…

My approach is to prove myself wrong in any situation. If I can’t – then I am most likely right.

Someone tells me a video proves something? I watch it with that in mind as a possibility.

Someone tells me someone said something? I listen with that in mind as a possibility.

I have no problem being wrong, if I am wrong.

I’m like – okay.

What I do have a problem with are people who are indoctrinated puppets, who seem to have a toddler IQ, gaslighter intent, or simply the willingness to follow the pack and spew whatever is the talking point (truth or false) against the other side for the day.

Again…

Riots are occurring, which are illegal & officers should be allowed (required) to step in and stop them.

Governors, who stop officers from acting within the law, should be charged with all crimes committed as a result. In other words, if I am slugged because a governor forbade the officers to enforce the law – that governor should be accountable for the assault on me.

If you don’t agree, I guess someone can come slug you, your kids, mom or dad and that is okay – cause, in your mind, riots are good and anything that happens as a result of the riot is good.

What a stupid thought.

It’s time to take a step back and consider all things based on truth – rather than political illusion and the puppet feed thrown out by the hate vultures to be consumed by the ill-informed.

Riots are wrong.

Kicking people in the head is wrong.

Ganging up on a person is wrong.

Burning down or otherwise destroying someone’s property is wrong.

Lying about someone is wrong.

Lying about what someone said is wrong.

Trying to take over power by deceit and for wrongful purpose is wrong.

What was once wrong, and works of fiction, has become our daily lives because…?

It’s time to take back our sanity and control of our lives!

It’s time to tell the radicals of both parties that we are done with them!

It’s time to seek and focus on the truth!

Trump isn’t the one that has being lying!

It’s time to admit it!

Thank you for Supporting Carrie’s Take!

“MY ENEMY” Michael Beatty

April 27, 2020 by admin

Source:
“MY ENEMY” Michael Beatty

Open Letter to Speaker Pelosi

January 12, 2019 by Carrie K. Hutchens

Dear Speaker Pelosi:

It was my intent to write a respectful letter, but before I could get the first sentence typed – I found I had writer’s block. That’s true. I couldn’t think of a polite intro. I definitely couldn’t think of some charming praise to start the wall… I mean ball… rolling. All I could think of is what I think of you and that’s not a pretty thought to be shared in mixed company. It really isn’t.

I don’t know what is wrong with you, but I know what you are doing is wrong. You’re playing politics with the lives of the American people. You’re playing games to gain power… to keep power… to build power… and to heck with the rest of us. Problem for you is – we are on to you and have been for some time now.

Contrary to what you have said, since Donald J. Trump became president…

A wall is necessary. You and your pals said so. I guess you forgot or think we forgot or hope that we will forget where you stood on the matter pre-Trump. We haven’t though. Videos are a wondrous thing, don’t you think? Keeps situations fresh in the memory in spite of all the gaslighting and indoctrination coming from your side of all things.

Not to be rude, Nancy, but I don’t like you. I don’t like people like you. I never will. Nor will many others.

Know what the problem is, Nancy?

It’s quite obvious that whatever the president is for – you are against. Yes, it is obvious. We see that there is no merit in your objections. Instead, it is just plain ole spite. It’s plain old Nancy being a control freak and trying to deny Trump anything he wants simply because he wants it.

Not a pretty sight, Nancy.

If you haven’t figured it out yet – we’re tired of you and your ways. We’re tired of your friends. We’re tired of your servants. We’re simply tired of this entire mess you have made.

I’m not sure who you think you are, but self-absorbed individuals, such as yourself, don’t reign forever. There is always someone sneaking up from behind with the intent of pushing the power hogger out and grabbing the power for self. Might want to look behind you and around you. Yes, dear Nancy, they are waiting for the right moment to pounce and remove the queen from the throne she so readily covets.

Do they wait for another one of your public ramblings that make no sense?

Do they whisper behind your back to others and question why you so often forget who the president is?

Have you considered the others? The ones who may resent you for putting them in a bad position over the wall issue, among other things, simply in defiance of Trump and not because it is the right thing to do? What happens when they start losing necessary support all because of you and your wrongful decisions? Yes, what happens then?

This isn’t the Obama years of submission. People are no longer afraid to speak up. Hope has returned as we watch Trump accomplish so much in spite of all your wickedness and attempt to stop him at every turn. We know so much more could be accomplished to make America even better and safer than before, if people like you actually cared about our country and our citizens. If you cared, you would be working with our president – not trying to destroy him for your greedy, selfish reasons. If you cared, you, too, could become a hero that helped stop the downward spiral to the pit of destruction. If only you cared. If only you weren’t so selfish and blind. If only…

Foolish as it is – or maybe it is just because of the late hour – I can actually envision you supporting President Trump and the successes that could be. Yes, I can see Congress returning to sanity and the rule of law. I can see people working together as was meant to be. And I can see a calmness and confidence touching the lives of the citizens, too. Oh, it could be a wondrous thing to behold. It could actually be. It could be, if you stopped with your hate of Trump.

Well, it’s all up to you, Nancy, and I don’t count on you. It’s simply one of those things that I know could be, but I don’t expect to be. Of course, if you surprise me – I’d be quite delighted. In the meantime, I just want you to know, Nancy, that I don’t like you as you are. How about you give me a reason to change my mind? How about you start by giving Trump, and us, the funding for the wall?

County of Cults

March 13, 2018 by Carrie K. Hutchens

Haze hovered against the small town, teasing the dawn in a smothering cold blanket that reflected the vile chants emerging from the large crowd that surrounded me. I glanced around, knowing my only chance for escape was during their pre-planned march through the just awakening town. Only then could I slip from their bosom without notice.

“Rachael, you lead the western group.” I heard the order from the almost hidden face, so foreign to my recognition, and immediately knew I was suspected and now to be tested for faithfulness to the cause.

I nodded, trying desperately to mask the intense fear whaling up within my throat.

The bells rang out, savagely cutting at my raging nerves. Reluctantly, I began the fast march through the alleys and down the assigned streets, though no chants lifted from my silently praying lips. Inside the door of the Longhorn Restaurant, I sighed only for a moment before the terror began to rip at my soul and the screams of hideous torment forced their way into my conscious thoughts.

The faces of the cult members were twisted in demonic delight, as they stole away the life of those who would not submit, and even those who would – but who were the weak now falling to the frenzy excitement of the power of blood.

I stood in an instant of disbelief, as one young woman gutted another, burying her face deep within and cannibalizing on the inners now slashed open. I reached under my coat and pulled my .357 Colt, pointing it first to the right and then to the left and back again. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Came the sickening sweet voice of a pretty blonde girl.

“Don’t try me.” I said firmly, surprised my tone wasn’t disrupted by the shaking I knew
was trying to overpower me.

She moved towards me, her eyes squinted in that hellish glint. A man moved at me from the left. I focused my weapon from one to the other, catching sight of the knife in her hand and firing a round into her blackened heart. Her young body flew backwards, jerking and moaning, surprise devouring her now questioning eyes.

The undefined man stepped away, looking from his downed comrade to me and back in
rapid succession. I aimed down on him and screamed out again, “Back off or I’ll shoot!”

The scene quieted, as they moved slowly towards me, their heads cocked sideways, a
curious glint in their eyes and their lips turning up in a sadistic smile of mockery. Mike slid in beside me and I could feel the relief floating through my burning veins. I handed him my weapon, “Cover me.”

“Sure thing.” He said calmly taking the Colt from my grasp.

I leaned down to check on the stiff form of Denise and readily found the life had slipped
from her grasp. A tear touched my eyes, and I was shaking my head against the truth now
forced at me without mercy. I looked back towards the middle-aged man and the barrel
aimed not at them, but at me. My lips quivered, as I whispered, “You’re with them?”

The laughter was shrill and taunting, and I saw the confidence looming in those dead eyes
before me. “Of course, I’m with them.”

Slowly I stood and bowed my head, knowing that any moment, those hellish hands would
rip away my life. But, they were in no hurry. Not now. They were enjoying the torture of
anticipation that reeked from my captured soul.

I glanced at the tall, solid frame and once trusted face that now seemed too sharp. “I
guess we never had a chance.”

“No.” He smiled with crooked teeth I had never noticed before.

“What now?” I asked meekly.

“What now, she asks?” His laughter thundered against my ears, and I watched as he
turned his attention towards the emerging mob of insanity.

I swung backwards with the slice of my hand, chopping sharply at his throat. The Colt
was dropping, as his hands shot upwards to his crushed larynx, and I lunged to retrieve the gun in mid-air, rolled to my right and came back to my feet aiming the weapon at the bewildered enemy.

The stench of death stung my nostrils and I knew there was nothing I could do to save the
others. Quickly I glanced behind me and saw that I had a clear path to the door. Carefully
I stepped backwards. They inched forward. I knew… they knew… I couldn’t get them all.
I only had five bullets left in the chamber.

Reaching the door, I shot out into the street. A young woman screamed and came at me
from an adjoining doorway. I fired a round into her chest, slamming her body against the
door as blood splattered in a wild pattern of death, and then I was running.

Behind me I could hear the curses and mad screams, as my feet touched lightly against
the asphalt. I was turning up another alley and down a street, then into another alley, my
every move heading west and southwest. Their pursuit was fainter and I was sure they had merely spread out to head me off. Abruptly, I turned north and headed northeast, sliding out just five blocks north on the very street of the slaughter.

I was breathing hard, each gasp for air a battle in itself. My legs were weak and my heart
was pounding hard against my chest. I heard the approaching roar of an engine and started to dart between houses when I recognized the brown van, and hurled myself into the street, waiving my arms in foreboding desperation. The van slowed and my Uncle Jeremy, cursed me with his glance.

“Please give me a ride.” I begged.

Hesitantly, he permitted me into his van. “It’s all your fault. You shouldn’t have gotten
involved. It was none of your business.”

His insults and accusations bore down upon my reason challenging each moral he had
once sought to instill within my conscience. How could he feel this way? I had done what
was right. I had tried to help those who would be victims, while he insisted I should just turn my head and pretend none of it was real? In silence, I turned away from his betrayal and met the eyes of his passenger.

It was a mocking, yet amused smile that met my gaze. It was my ex-boss. He was one
of them. The terror pressed at my throat and my breath caught once again. He shook his
head. “I won’t turn you over to them, but there is nothing I can do. I can’t help you, but I
won’t hurt you anymore. You are going to have to do this all on your own. I know you
can. I believe in you.”

My uncle dropped me off just outside of town, refusing to be involved any longer. I was
alone… deserted… running into the vast fields and the cover of the woods. Moving swiftly on spongy legs that threatened to give way under the demands of performance, by nightfall, cut, battered and bleeding, I had reached the tiny, neighboring town. A heavy set brunette, peered at me through curious eyes. “What happened to you?”

“They’re after me.” I simply blurted out.

She nodded, seeming to need no further explanation. Her eyes were shadowed with sadness as she spoke. “I wondered how long it would take.”

“Can I use your phone?” I begged.

“Sure.” She replied pulling me to her house, her attention snapping around perhaps in
anticipation of the watchful eyes.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with them.” I gasped breathlessly.

“Don’t you worry about that.” She insisted, and I wondered if she was one of them too
and only baiting me in.

My hands were shaking as I dialed my number, and rattled into the receiver. “Please
come and get me, but they can’t know. Don’t take a chance. If you don’t find me on the
highway, go on without me. Don’t wait, just get out of here.”

“Oh, for God sakes.” My mother called out, but I knew she would come.

I quickly dialed my number back and entered the code for the answering machine to
disconnect the forwarding number, which then disconnected from the second number and the call forwarding to my mother’s number. Without the second number, I knew they wouldn’t be able to locate the true destination of my call.

Only a brief moment of relief touched my dwindling spirit, when the stout, aging man
wandered into the room and caught sight of me. The hatred that reflected in his eyes, was suffocating and pronounced. “What are YOU doing here?”

Before I could answer, Janet stepped back into the room. “I told her she could use the
phone. THEY are after her.”

“I don’t care. I hope they get her.” He hissed.

“Ralph! I told her we would help her!” Janet threatened in tone.

My hand was inching up towards the grips protruding from my shoulder holster, when
Ralph shook his head. “I don’t like them more than I don’t like you. I won’t turn you in, but
I won’t hide you either. You’re on your own, lady.”

I nodded and watched him stomp out the kitchen door.

Janet’s quiet smile gave no relief. “I don’t think he will tell, but I can’t promise he won’t.”

I pretended to settle at the kitchen table and waited for her to leave. Alone, I grabbed up
the sandwich she had fixed for me and slid silently out the back door and towards the west end of town and in view of the highway.

They were in town and searching for me. I saw them approach Ralph and moved in closer to hear. He denied having seen me and with that cocky snarl in his voice, assured them that he had no love loss where I was concerned. I had to smile. So he did hate them more than me.

I moved cautiously through the town just ahead of their search.

Finally, I saw the blue car moving up and down the highway, with my mother leaned forward and looking about nervously. I couldn’t go to her. They were too near She made too many passes and I was afraid they were going to notice her, but they didn’t. Finally, they moved on to the north and I raced to the roadway and caught her attention. She pulled over, her face white and her lips shaking, as she motioned for me to drive.

I dove into the car, pausing to look around. Assured we hadn’t been spotted, I gunned
the car and we sped off away from the County of Cults.

The slender, middle-aged man shivered, shifting his wire rimmed glasses back up onto his
nose and then running his hands through his salted brown hair, leaned back into his gold
recliner. Clasping his hands behind his neck, he closed his eyes. “I suppose you want me to
tell you what this dream means.”

“Do you know?” I asked excitedly, moving to sit on the edge of the matching sofa.

His lips curved into a teasing smile. “No!”

“Mike!” I squealed. “You’re suppose to be a psychologist!”

“So?” he laughed, suddenly winking at me. “Doesn’t mean I was trained for the likes of
you. You have some pretty strange dreams, Rachael, my girl.”

“Thanks a lot.” I sighed in disappointment.

He studied me, and I stared at him. Finally, he confessed. “Rachael, I never really got into dream interpretation and it’s not as simple as everyone seems to think it is. One mold doesn’t fit all. It depends on the person, as much as what is in the dream. Someone else could have your same dream and it could mean something entirely different.”

“So, what do you think it means?” I persisted.

He was sitting frigid and staring me down. “I can only give you a personal opinion.”

“Give it.” I pushed.

“In your dream the town itself was vividly accurate, though the players were not. You didn’t recognize anyone in your dream except four people,” he said ducking his head and rubbing his forehead roughly. I would have to assume you believe this town is evil, and some of the people in it… that you know the town is evil… but you realize you don’t really know the people. You don’t know who to trust and who not to.”

I nodded, urging him on.

“First you are sent in to infiltrate a small cult that turns out to be massive, but you don’t
even know who sent you and your group in. And then you find there are traitors close to
you.” He said leaning forward. “You’re there to protect right… to protect the innocent… but you are overpowered. You feel helpless and the person you trusted turns on you.”

“Then, there is your uncle, apparently in the dream because he is important to you. You
seek his approval, because in it, you feel his strength will reach out to shield you from the
evils of the world. You long for his protection, and yet met rejection. He casts you to the
side, showing his disapproval. Maybe even showing his weakness because he is angered by the fact you got involved.”

A slight laugh touched Mike’s throat. “You’re ex-boss – the one who showed a hatred
towards you – is saying he won’t turn you over to their hands. He, now realizing their
viciousness, is walking away from them. He tells you he can’t help you, because he, too, is
helpless against their onslaught. He tells you it’s all up to you, and he believes you can do it. He confides his trust in you.”

Mike studied his hands and took a deep breath. “Then there is a criminal, who hates
you. Someone you have no reason to trust, but he doesn’t turn on you. Twice now the
reverse has happened. Twice you trusted to be rejected and twice you feared to be
protected.”

He looked deep into my eyes and smiled. “I needn’t tell you about your Mother. She is
someone you have always trusted. Someone that has always come through for you and
protected you despite her own danger.”

I leaned back against the sofa and closed my eyes, thinking about his deep sure voice and
the possibilities he had presented. Perhaps my beliefs of evil and lack of trust were merely presenting themselves in a conflicting drama of the terror their possibilities presented to me.

Mike had explained the four familiar people’s possible roll in my dream, but suddenly I
realized there had been five — not four. Mike had been in my dream as well. “But, Mike,
what about you? Why were you in my dream?”

His laughter brought me to attention. My eyes opened and I was staring at the barrel of
my own Colt. “And maybe I am just full of it. Maybe you are just able to see what others
are too blind to see.”

Terror erupted within my throat, as I looked at the tall, solid frame and once trusted face
that now seemed too sharp. “I guess we never had a chance.”

“No.” He smiled with crooked teeth I had never noticed before.

“What now?” I asked meekly.

“What now, she asks?” His laughter thundered against my ears, and I watched as he
turned his attention towards the emerging mob of insanity.