By William Barron
|
There is a great tragedy happening in American Prisons
across the country. A tragedy, about which few Americans
outside the prison systems have heard. I can tell you about
it here and now, because I am "A; SURVIVOR!"
It all started about 10 years ago when I entered a prison in Virginia. After several months there, I gained the confidence of a prison trustee. He told me a fantastic story of what he had seen and heard. I of course doubted him at first, because his story seemed just too far fetched. But then after hearing him tell the story over, and over, and over, it began to sound plausible. I did some investigating into this matter, and after having some experiences of my own, I've come to the conclusion that it MUST be true! Let me now attempt to give you the "facts;" behind my experience. It's a story of death, sadistic torture and even cannibalism! All across America today, there are prisoners turning up missing from their cells. I even saw this for myself, when early one morning I saw the officers escorting him from his cell late at night. He put up no struggle, and even seemed to be smiling. I naturally dismissed this as hysteria, but I just know he was taken to some awful fate. The strange thing about it, is that of the many prisoners who have come up missing, their bodies have never been found. Granted, our search has been limited to the prison recreation yard, but we really looked hard. In all, estimates have brought the toll to around SIX MILLION! It has been termed by those in the know as the "HOLY-COST;," because all of the missing prisoners are Christians. Well, those that matter anyway. The missing bodies baffled me, because I couldn't figure out how they were being taken from the prison grounds. The out "HOLY-COST;" deniers say that the prisoners have simply been transferred to other prisons or released on parole, but I just can't go along with that. It's TOO simple and plausible for anyone to honestly believe. Then one day the puzzle shattered. After being transferred to a New Jersey Prison, I thought I was finally able to put this whole situation behind me. The transfer had been arranged by a sympathetic warden, whom we endearingly call "Mr.; Swindler," due to the various wheeling and dealing he had to do to get us here. Once I made it onto Mr. Swindlers list, and the transfer was complete, I finally felt safe. There was nothing that could be done about my missing comrades, and I didn't want to make waves for fear of being sent back. I got a job as a welder in the prison maintenance shop, which was very gratifying as I like to work with my hands. But then it all happened! I saw it with my very own eyes. Evidence of the missing prisoners. With my job as a welder, I was given access to parts of the prison usually kept closed to most other prisoners. I made my way into the shop area, deceivingly called, "The; Tailor Shop," and there on the floor were piles and piles of torn and segmented clothes. Shirts, pants, jackets; all manner of clothing. I was so shocked I could hardly catch my breath! There they were, clothes that must have been taken from the missing prisoners. Some apparently, had been torn from their bodies. Other prisoners were actually being FORCED to sew these clothes for redistribution among the prison population. My heart raced; my eyes began to tear up, and I felt a knot begin to grow in the pit of my stomach. I backed from the "Tailor; Shop," spun, then briskly made my way to the door of the cook house, in another part of the building. I was so confused and shaken, I thought maybe a sandwich and a pint of milk would calm my stomach. I had a friend who worked in the cook house, and would hook me up with some food for a pack of smokes. I knocked at the door...waited...then knocked again, but to no avail. I found the door to be unlocked, which seemed unusual, but I turned the knob anyway and let myself in. I had to find my friend, I called his name, and from one of the back rooms I heard his reply, slightly muffled by the sounds of kitchen machinery. "I;'m in the pantry," He said, "Be; right out." I decided to make my way around that same corner, I passed into a large kitchen, and before realizing it, I had found the FINAL SOLUTION to this puzzle. It struck me all at once. This prison of Mr. Swindler's, use to be a "Death; Prison" itself. For the room in which I found myself standing, held the most damning PROOF of all. Huge stainless steel caldrons! THAT was how they got rid of the bodies! They must have been stripped of their property and clothes, cooked in these caldrons, and passed out for the other prisoners to unknowingly consume. Sure, the "HOLY-COST;" deniers will say that the caldrons were purchased from legitimate restaurant suppliers, and that the factory specs say they were not made for cooking human bodies, but I know. Of course they also try to give the excuse that the caldrons weren't even installed until after Mr. Swindler purchased the prison; but I felt the inside of those cooking pots and they still felt greasy to the touch. Grease from HUMAN FAT. Now that my eyes had been opened, the evidence appeared at every turn. When I went to wash the "human; grease" from my hands, I entered the bathroom and noticed a tube of tooth paste that someone had left lying on the shelf. Stamped on the front of this tube were the letters: "D.O.C.." Once again, the deniers will be quick to tell you that it ONLY stands for Department of Corrections, but I have it from good sources that it really stands for the,
So there you have it. Torn clothes, greasy caldrons, "tooth;" paste. What more need I say?! I can get any number of fellow "Death; Prison Survivors" to come forward and tell you the same story. I can even show you tattoos on our bodies as "PROOF;" of the deaths. And don't even try to tell me I'm wrong or attempt to explain this all away; we have the PROOF and won't dignify an argument against it by engaging in such foolishness. We will, however, engage in all sorts of name calling and chiding, which drives most people into submission. We are now planning to file suit against the United States government for "HOLY-COST;" reparations and maybe even a memorial building to be filled with the clothes from the "Tailor; Shop," and those greasy caldrons.
With all Due Sincerity,
William Barron, ZOG-POW |
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