| then began microwaving breakfast. It was something of a morning ritual, one of the few things-aside from work-he enjoyed. The background noise of the broadcast was nearly as pleasing to him as the images of the beautiful woman reading from the teleprompter. “In the Homeland this morning, 7 terrorists were brought into custody by federal troops in Birmingham. They were found with a cache of over 20 prohibited firearms, and nearly a thousand pages of illegal literature. The Department of Homeland Security credits the TIPS program for providing vital information leading to their capture.” As the pretty blond moved on to the latest sports scores and highlights, Roger chuckled to himself. How could anyone in this day and age question the government, especially when the consequences were so dire? He had seen this sort of thing a thousand times in the past three years, and it never got old. In fact, it seemed to change on every occasion. A maintenance man or a maid service would be in somebody’s apartment or home, spot something suspicious, and contact the security service. Coworkers would report on each other. Longtime friends would turn each other in. Even family members didn’t hesitate to file their reports on one another to their local SD. Some informed for money, some for fame, and others simply informed for the fun of it. Why they informed was inconsequential. All that mattered was the bottom line. The results spoke for themselves. Over 200,000 potential terrorists brought to justice, and countless more civilians and infrastructure saved. As he began to eat, Roger again had to laugh at all the excuses the scum he arrested and helped prosecute threw at him. Many of the terrorists actually claimed to be fighting to save America! These were the types that waved the old constitution around like some sort of Holy Scripture, yelling to all who would listen that they had special rights, and were immune to modern law. Of course it was a big joke. In reality, these people were the ones keeping North America back from being the true region of choice for global affairs. Instead, that distinction kept falling to Europe. It was from the constitutional crowd that all the other terrorists seemed to identify with. Some of the worst offenders were definitely the gun nuts. These extremists blatantly flaunted the laws passed that outlawed private gun ownership and proved to be a constant nuisance, not to mention their close ties to the various foreign terrorists. These people were often intertwined with Christians who refused to incorporate into the family of religions. They claimed that Christ was actually coming back, to “save” them. The believers in this religion were often the most obstinate and extreme in their behavior, many of them not renouncing their insane beliefs or recognizing the North American government, even under the most intense torture NA had to offer. For the life of him, Roger Andrews could not understand that. But there was much he didn’t understand. Finishing his meal, Roger noticed the lovely blond had given way to a less attractive female, which was his cue to place the dishes in the sink, and move to the next step of his ritual. Still deep in thought, he barely noticed the humming of the high definition television as he walked past it into the bathroom. A quick shower and shave would have him out the door in time to make it to the station, where another day of keeping the peace awaited. Today, he was to receive another classroom instruction on the art of torture. As he dressed, he admired himself in the mirror. The new black and gray uniforms were certainly very handsome. Very handsome, indeed. He loved the power it gave to him. He loved the feeling he got when people stepped out of his way on the street, in restaurants, clubs, and bars. He loved the looks he got from young women. He loved the power. It was the only recognizable and tangible power that remained in the world, the power of the state. And by wearing the uniform, he had established himself as an extension of the state. Reaching for his weapon, he paused for one last look in the mirror. As he prepared to walk out the door, Roger asked himself, with a broad smile, who is like us? Who can possibly stop us? He knew of nobody else. He was the new American hero. ------------------------------------- The author may be contacted at Dvinyard1999@aol.com. ------------------------------------- Permission to reprint this article is granted providing the original author is cited and a link to PRISON PLANET.com is included. The views expressed in this article may not necessarily be those of Alex Jones or Paul Joseph Watson. ------------------------------------- PRISON PLANET.com INFOWARS.com |
| Roger Andrews: The New American Hero By Kevin Newsom It was a little after 7 A.M., and the bright morning light streamed through the bedroom window as Roger awakened from a sound sleep. The alarm wasn’t set to go off for another thirty minutes, but these days, waking up early wasn’t a problem. It’s easy to get up in the morning when you love what you do…and Roger Andrews loved his job very much. Quickly rolling out of bed and stepping into the living room, Andrews grabbed the remote and flipped on the cable news, and |
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