Modern Mullet For Men

... the catacombs. I saw two men, one shirtless and sweating in... and poke method, not a modern tattoo applicator. It was shockingly... cut off the weird padawan mullet at the back of his...

... that management passed on both men, and a year later they ... tonight's event, never forget that men like Sage Northcutt and Chase ... a decision, and in the modern meta, that's simply unacceptable. Sure, ... two fighters are, in the modern world, roughly equivalent. NAVAJO STIRLING ... Yanez's only win in the modern age comes from a Vinicius ... SIMÓN BY TKO. Grow the mullet back out and you'll be ...

... that management passed on both men, and a year later they ... tonight's event, never forget that men like Sage Northcutt and Chase ... a decision, and in the modern meta, that's simply unacceptable. Sure, ... two fighters are, in the modern world, roughly equivalent. NAVAJO STIRLING ... Yanez's only win in the modern age comes from a Vinicius ... SIMÓN BY TKO. Grow the mullet back out and you'll be ...

Today I took my teen into crop shop on castle meadow,after checking a few others it was half the price of other salons.so we go in and I asked for 'the best hairdresser you have',a lady with beautiful pink hair did the cut and its fantastic!my teen wanted a Japanese style (K pop has alot to answer for)and took in pics.The cut is incredible,beautiful and I'd definitely recommend taking your young ladies to see the pink haired hairdresser (she said she does modern mullets on men too🥰).People complain about cuts from there but just ask for the best..I now have a teen exited about going to school on Monday ❤️(cannot share pic as they'd be angry lol) submitted by /u/BeaksFalcone to r/Norwich [link] [comments]

PROLOGUE She didn’t make it. An excerpt from the interrogation of a man in small town Indiana June 12 2000 Officer Roberts (OR): So it was around 4 o’clock when you made contact? Unknown Subject (UK): *unintelligible* OR: Again, I am here to help you, but you gotta help me help you. We have the witnesses, you’re on camera. I mean, it was the middle of the freaking day. The DA is going to want to prosecute, and stuff like this? Stuff with a little boy? They are going to want to put you under the jail. UK: You can’t help me. OR: Look, I’ve told you, it’s your right, okay? You don’t have to talk to us. But before this gets messy and it spirals out of control this is your only chance to get your side of the story out. UK: Won’t matter. OR: Fine. But just for me. Just so I can understand, can you tell me what happened? What made you just wake up on this random day and try to do something like this? UK: It needed to be stopped. OR: What did? UK: Them. OR: Who’s them? You gotta help me understand here. UK: This story didn’t start today. Started a long time ago. Tried to end it today, but I didn’t. I failed. I can tell you but it won’t matter anyway. Not to the people still living out there, not to those little girls. OR: What little girls? UK: You got a cigarette? — Thank you. OR: What little girls? When does this story start? UK: Depends. OR: On what? UK: Which story you want to hear. OR: Well, let’s start with your story. When does that start? UK: March 9th 1992. OR: Okay, is that when the boy was born? He is 7 years old right? UK: No. It’s when I saw her standing out there in the rain. The woman - the girl - the mother of the boy. It was pissing down rain, and I was 100, 150 yards from her, but I could still see her cryin. Standing there, I was up in the trees, like, she didn’t know I was there. I wasn’t supposed to be, I was supposed to be back in the chapel. Something about that girl though. She wore sadness different than the rest of them. She seemed so innocent. So pure. The rain was comin down so hard and that little baptism dress was soaking wet and stickin to her body. That was when she saw them crawlin up out of the marshes. It was too late, they had already hatched, there wasn’t nothin could be done. She came runnin right towards me, trying to make it into the trees, but they were comin up fast as a shark cuttin through water. Just inky black. All hate. You ever seen evil like that? Evil that just don’t have no reason to be, it just is? She’s running at me as fast as her little feet can go, but the dress was long and it was getting all tangled in the mud and the sticks. She grabbed up at the shoulders of the dress and ripped it off and just kept running. She just needed to get to the trees, but them things were comin up on her. They wouldn’t stop. She just needed to get to the trees. She didn’t make it. Genesis Chapter I 1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. 2 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And She moved even then in the depths. And it was good. Book One The First Gospel of the Sacred Crescent Obediah, The Letter, Campfire Stories, The Exchange, An Angel, An Old Man and a Demon I His name was Obediah Thomas, but everyone called him Obie. The first name was a holdover from biological benefactors, the surname a gift given to him in his adoption. The Thomas’s had given this name to six children turned adults over the course of their lives, and had fostered 11 additional children in succession over the course of a dozen or so years. This period overlapped with the developmental years of a young Obediah. He had never known solitude or loneliness until he was a man, but at no point did he ever feel as if he had found a home. This was, of course, not the fault of his adoptive family. Many abandoned and refound children spend their lives feeling a sense of homelessness. This is the story of how he died. Obie found himself not only existentially homeless, but the only place he could call his domicile was a 1991 Volvo 740 GL. At the time in which we find ourselves in Obie’s unfortunate life this vehicle is 34 years old, three years older than Obediah himself. It was not much as far as a means of transportation, and less so a home. It leaked oil and squeaked like a hungry mouse in a cage whenever it made a lefthand turn. As Obie drove his home towards Reverend John Thomas’s church on the first day of the new year of our lord 2025, the Volvo had three gallons of gas in the tank and one quart too little oil in the engine block. It housed three button-down shirts, four stained t-shirts, two pairs of slacks, one pair of denim jeans, a half-pack of Marlboro cigarettes, 23 copies of the May 2024 addition of Sexy Cinephiles and the pitiful pilot of the vessel. Obie slapped the steering wheel in time with the songs of the 70’s on rocking 103.4 and pulled the ember of his cigarette closer to the cotton filter tucked into the corner of his unshaven mouth. He kept one eye on the road and the other kept pulling itself towards the adult magazines stacked on his passenger seat. The reason the magazines had made their home in his car was as simple as it was depressing. Sexy Cinephiles was the only publication willing to publish anything with Obediah Thomas as its author. It was a failing publication which housed short stories and movie reviews between pictures of women recreating famous movie scenes in the nude. The reason it was failing is two-fold: one, no one purchased pictures of naked women in print anymore, as there is an endless supply of naked women on the internet; two,very few people wanted to buy sexually explicit material with the suffix -phile in the title due to the number of nasty sexual proclivities with that suffix in their name. Obediah had been writing for them for some time, and had made a name enough for himself that on the front cover of the May 2024 issue there was in bold type face a blurb which read “Featuring the short stories of Obediah Thomas” directly below a woman petting a very strategically placed cat recreating the iconic scene from the Godfather - in the nude. When Obie had last visited the good Reverend John Thomas he had purchased every copy of Sexy Cinephiles available in the small town of Winter Spring Indiana to ensure that neither his parents nor the parishioners would stumble on a copy of a naked woman advertising the literary works of a prodigal son. Even though Obie was not particularly proud of his writing in the May issue of Sexy Cinephiles he found it difficult to throw away published work with his byline, given how rare of an item published works with his byline are. The published works in question here were as follows: “10 Most Overrated Movies of the Past 10 Years”, “Slashers of the 80’s: Nudity in Film” and a short erotic parody of James Bond titled “James Bones”. Each of these were couched between pictures of naked women spreading their legs and fucking each other in cheap Halloween costumes. Obediah pulled hard on the cigarette, burning the last of the tobacco before shoving the butt into the already over stuffed ash tray. He turned up the radio as the Eagles began telling him to take it easy in an ear worm of a melody. The cigarettes and dolcite tones help ease the nausea ridden anxiety that bubbles up whenever Obie returns to Winter Spring to see his parents. The occasion which drew him back to Winter Springs this time was an annual New Years Day party at his father’s church and a voicemail from his mother which was as follows: “Hey little man! When in the world do you plan on coming back home to see us. Your dad is planning a big party -” there was some indistinct murmuring from someone too far from the receiver to be audible. “I know, I know, I’ll tell him. We got a letter from uhm, your birth family. We’d like to talk about it here. In person.” II Obediah’s trip to the good reverends congregation had been brief and fairly uneventful. Upon arrival he was greeted by a familiar face equally dreading the festivities inside - a woman by the name of Willow Mills. Willow stood fore longingly under a banner which had been erected three days previous on the side of the church which read “Pray in the New Year”. She had skin like sweet pralines and hair that cascaded in kinks and curls just past her shoulders. She, like Obediah, had found herself here under parental obligation, and had little interest in praying for the New Year or anything else for that matter. When they were much younger, a lifetime ago by Obadiah's estimation, they had used each other's bodies to learn about erections and orgasms and the things that become wet and hard and expel fluids and lust. They had used each other’s hearts to learn about heartache and the kind of loneliness that can only come when you love someone so completely, and disappoint them in equal measure. Now she stood with pursed lips as he approached and scolded him for being ‘such a stranger’ for over a decade. She asked if he could spare her a cigarette. He did. They smoked in silence punctuated occasionally by small talk. Where are you living now? How is work? Have you begun loving anyone new? Why didn’t you call me after I let you take my virginity? And so on. “If my mother smells cigarettes on either of us it’s your white ass” she said in a joking tone. She wasn’t joking. Inside Obediah was greeted by familiar faces from the past. Sister Parsons had sold him his first car when her husband had died and no longer needed it. Brother Simmons had bought his back-to-school clothes three summers in a row when the good reverend had found that new clothes were not a luxury he could provide. Brother White had taught him to drive a stick-shift in his old Ford Bronco. Each of these people were moral and good. The back bone of a type of America that had nearly gone extinct and Obediah felt the unparalleled crushing guilt and shame of having lived up to none of their expectations. He was not moral. He was not good. He was the backbone of the type of America that had been birthed with the invention of 24 hour news access and mobile phones and social media platforms. He had taught no one anything, and had never purchased anyone new clothes out of the kindness of his Christian heart. Never in his life did Obediah find himself feeling more like a lost soul than in the company of those whose souls had been found. In the back of the room filled with benevolent souls he found the shepherd of the flock sitting next to his First Lady at a table of honor. He was forking mindlessly at a hodgepodge plate of pot-luck casseroles. When the good reverend saw his son he sprung from his chair like a jack-in-the-box. He embraced him and slapped his back hard with a massive heavy hand. “Everybody act like you got some sense, we’re in the presence of a great author!” His mother stood to join her husband in the welcoming committee. They began a three person parade reintroducing Obediah to the kind souls he has known his whole life, each of them beaming with pride at the young author - none of them knew his accomplishments were wedged in between the cum stained pages of a soon to be bankrupt porno mag. Then it was the part of the evening to discuss the letter that had drawn Obediah across the country. “Ma, don’t you have something for me to look at?” “Hm?” “Ma. My parents?” Her face soured. His parents. Having raised Obediah his entire life, here he stands in front of her, having not been home in some time and is looking to see a letter from someone he’s never met. He had eaten none of the casserole. He had drunk none of the punch. Obediah’s mother, of course, didn’t understand the empty place that was and will always be in the heart of a boy once left abandoned. She sees only his ingratitude. “It’s in your father’s office.” They shuffled now towards the office, no longer a parade and now a procession. After some sorrowful mulling around the subject, Obediah’s mother handed him the envelope. This is what it read: Young Obediah, It has come to my attention that you have been sired by the seed of my seed. That is to say you are a descendant once removed. That is to say I am your grandfather. I have fallen ill. It has come time for legacy and bequeathments and the future and homecoming and homegoing. 1746 Chapel of the Unseen Crescent Isle, GA Take the first ferry from the mainland on January 9th. The ferry will be closed after for the festivities. Enclosed is the fare. Show this letter to the bridgemen. Your Grandfather, Yeshua Abraham Enclosed was twelve dollars and fifty cents. III Her name was Honesty. Her twin sister was named Truth. Neither may seem like standard names for those of us who live in the contiguous United States, or as the people who live in the Crescent Isles would call it the mainland. All of the girls of the isles are named for a virtue while the boys typically carry the name of prophet or biblical figure. This is likely an unintentional commentary on the place that the sexes maintain in their traditionally patriarchal society. Men are the priests of their homes, while women are virtues to obtain. It is the benign kind of misogyny that doesn’t exist in our modern society, with everyone being equally fucked by late stage capitalism. Honesty and Truth were both in the awkward years of changing bodies, and new hormones filling their gangly frames. Their limbs too long, their legs sprouting ungroomed hairs and their necks small towers for skulls that are filling quickly with ideas of mortality and sex and responsibility and their ever-shrinking futures. On top of each of their heads were mops of curls which would dance down in front of their large crystal blue eyes, and would balance on the shoulders of their hand woven dresses. Honesty was the more mature of the two, more world-weary, having been forced to grow up in order to protect her sister who was nine minutes her junior. This is the story of how she ended up killing the poor son of a bitch that was beckoned to the Crescent Isles by a cryptic letter from his grandfather. The twin sisters had decided that this morning was too sunny and beautiful to spend the entire day sitting in some boring class room, and that their youth would be better spent in the woods near the river known as St. Enoch's path. They came skipping down the soft clay hills towards the river bed where they were to meet their equally truant class mates: Patience, Serenity, who were themselves a pair of twin sisters only a few weeks older than Honesty and Truth. They were also meeting Isaiah, Samuel and Hunter. The boys were working hard on creating a small fire with a collection of small twigs and leaves which were carefully collected beneath a small teepee of larger sticks. Isaiah was holding a large magnifying glass above the twigs trying to harness the power of the bright beating sun. “Shouldn’t the camp fire be for later?” Honesty called as she came down the hill. “There you are!” Hunter called back. “Can’t do it later” Isaiah said before placing his tongue firmly back in his cheek to focus. “Why not?” called Truth. Isaiah sighed deeply, frustrated that he was having to explain something so simple to these two air-headed girls. “Don’t you check the weather? Gonna rain later. Now can I focus?!” He went back to starting the fire with a comically large magnifying glass. “He gets mad annoyed when he’s focusing, don't worry about it ladies” Hunter ran his fingers through his curly mullet trying to look cool and mysterious. Unfortunately for him when he lifted his arm his t-shirt came up showing his soft round pale belly. “Why did we even invite them?” Patience said, shouldering Isiah, desperate for his approval. He looked at her with a face like a fist, said absolutely nothing, and went back to his fire. He was a professional arsonist of the mundane variety. "Sorry," Patience said. It was a small, wet sound. She sat next to Serenity and they both hugged their knees as though they were afraid their legs might try to run away without them. Then they started whispering and giggling. This is a thing young girls do to convince themselves they are paragons of some meaner more serious adulthood that everyone else is too stupid or naive to appreciate. "Hey, Truth," Samuel said. He waved. His face turned the color of the freshly rising sun the group of truants had gathered under less than an hour ago. Truth waved back. Her face turned the exact same color. "Got some good shit for you ladies to try later in my bag," Hunter said. He stepped in front of Samuel, who was currently busy calculating his next move in convincing Truth he was a little boy worthy of her time and affection. "What is it?" Honesty asked. Now, Honesty would never tell a soul, but she found this chubby boy and his fumbling attempts at being a man almost charming. It was pathetic, really, which is often just another word for cute. "Can’t tell you yet," Hunter said, trying to look mysterious. "But trust me, it’s some fuckin good shit." Hunter had discovered profanity earlier that year. He used these new words like a man who had just been handed an eight pound hammer and was determined to find a nail in every sentence. He thought he sounded like a big muscle-bound badass. In reality, he sounded like a boy who was very excited to be alive and very afraid of being ignored. “Just show us!” Honesty pleaded. “No fuckin way! You gotta wait and shit, fuck-head” Hammer, meet nail. Honesty darted her eyes from Hunter’s round face, to his back pack and back to his face. She was a very fast runner. Hunter, on the other hand, had legs like two large hams poking out of denim shorts. She performed a brief, frantic dance of misdirection and then bolted for the bag. Hunter came fumbling after her, a clumsy machine of pasty meat. “No you freaking dickweed!” he whistled. The two ended up falling over each other in an impromptu wrestling match for the bag. During the scuffle, Hunter’s hand landed accidentally on Honesty’s newly budding breast. It was a very small event in the history of mankind, but it was a very large event for Hunter. It was the first time he had ever touched a breast. Neither of them said a word about it. Maybe because the passing brush didn’t even register to the young girl or maybe because to speak of it would be to admit that they were no longer just children playing in the dirt. Either way, the shock of the contact caused Hunter’s brain to short-circuit. It provided the opening Honesty needed to snatch the bag away and claim her prize. So she did. She stood quickly off the ground victorious. “Let’s see what we have here!” She began rummaging through a bag of crumpled up pages covered in doodles, several loose ink pens, Japanese comic books, a collection of cracker crumbs and in the middle of the horde a plastic bag filled with primary colored candies. “Are these what I think they are?” Honesty squealed. “Well what do you think they are?” Hunter tried and failed to conceal a shit-eating smirk. “Come on, seriously? Where did you get these?!” Her excitement was uncontainable. “Back on the mainland when we went and saw my mom’s cousin at Christmas. Saved them for you.” He was catching his breath still in a heap on the ground. “Come on, show us!” Called Samuel who had oh-so-casually moved himself over to stand next to Truth in all of the chaos. “It’s probably just something gross anyway” Scoffed Patience, and she and Serenity giggled. “It’s not gross!” Hunter snapped back. “I’m sure, piggy boy!” Another fit of giggles from the mean girls. “They’re…” Honesty paused for effect before ripping the candies from the backpack and holding them in the sun victorious “M&M’s!” “No. Freaking. Way.” Samuel stood stunned. “Freak yes!” Isaiah squealed, leaping to his feet over the small fire he had finally been able to start. “What the heck are you guys so excited about?” He asked wheeling around to see the group of tweens staring at the candies. “Are those–” Isaiah stammered his mouth agape. “They’re peanut.” Hunter said, beaming with pride. IV It had been twenty-or-so minutes from the initial discovery of candied treats, and everyone was doing their best to remain disciplined and think of anything else on Isiah’s insistence that the candy would be better suited for campfire stories once the flames were properly stoked. He had worked diligently, and now there was a small circle of kids around a much-too-large roaring fire. On one side sat the two, jaded and bitter, Patience and Serenity, with the former trying to coily inch herself nearer to Isiah. Next to them sat Samuel, who was too shy to sit directly next to his little crush, Truth, and opted to sit next to Hunter directly opposite her in the circle for optimal eye contact opportunities. Hunter was next to Honesty who was next to, as always, her twin sister. Isaiah sat opposite the entire semi-circle atop a tree stump ready to hold court. He motioned to Hunter to start passing out handfuls of candies as his little horror show was ready to begin. “Shouldn’t we be doing this at, like, night-time?” Serenity chided. “Can’t do it at nighttime yet, Serenity. I need the sun to make the fire, plus we can't see at night.” Isaiah scoffed. Stupid girls. “But,” he said with boyish glee, “for Aestuarium this year I asked my dad for a Zippo lighter and a pair of night vision goggles, and he promised as long as I got good grades he would get it for me, so this time next month- night time camp fires!” He licked his preposterous lips. He hoped to one day grow into them, but for now they less resembled human anatomy and looked more like a perpetually moist duck bill protruding from his round sun burnt face. “Whatever, just seems lame” she said jostling around a handful of Peanut M&M’s. “Whatever, Serenity, I didn’t even want girls here. Hunter made me invite you guys!” His facade of young man gave way to petulant little boy. “Don’t blame me if she’s being a freakin bitch!” Hunter yelled defensively. “Don’t call my sister a bitch! Maybe you two lame wads should be less-” she paused fumbling for an insult “lame!” “Guys!” Honesty chimed in through a mouthful of M&M’s “Can we stop fighting! I want to hear this story.” “Thank you, Honesty. Jeez.” Isaiah regathered his thoughts. “Do you ever ask yourself why we aren’t supposed to come out here near the water before Aestuarium every year?” “Reverend said the tides rise sometimes in flash floods, same reason we have to stay inside every night until after Aestuarium baptisms” Samuel answered matter-of-factly. “Sure,” Isaiah nodded, leaning closer to the flames, “but have you ever seen the tides raise?” Silent shrugs from the circle. “Exactly. Also, why is it none of us are allowed into the Aestuarium baptisms until after we’re thirteen? Why do we have to sit in the kiddy class in the sub-basement?” More shrugs. “Do you remember my cousin Ishmael?" “Yeah, we all remember Ishmael. Had your same freak mouth, but also had the most fucked buck teeth anyone has ever seen. How the hell could we forget that?!” Hunter laughed and pieces of peanuts fell out of his mouth. “Okay, is no one going to take this seriously?!” Isaiah crossed his arms. “Sorry, Jesus, tell us your story, storymaster” Hunter twisted the knife a little. He knew Isaiah would never pass up the chance to tell a scary story. “Fine.” He straightened his back. “Ishmael’s parents were at his baptism. They don’t usually let the parents in, but his dad was studying to be a deacon so they gave them a pass. It turns out the baptisms aren’t what we think they are at all. There’s something in the water.” He leaned forward again for effect. “Ghosts.” Skeptical scoffs from the crowd. “It’s true. It was a night just like every other Aestuarium, we were all in the kiddy class right next door when they brought him over. Apparently all of the old women in the village bring you into a stone room, and it’s cold. Like really cold. So cold you can see your breath, and they strip you down right there.” “Wait, they get you like butt-naked!?” Hunter interjected. “Yes. Now stop interrupting” Isaiah didn’t try to hide his growing disdain. “So there’s all of the old ladies, right? And they’re all wearing these white robes, but they have these black hoods over their heads so you can’t even see their faces, just their eyes staring at you. It’s so creepy, like haunting. They all get in this big circle and start holding hands and making this weird noise. It’s not even like singing, it’s like this deep screaming from their stomachs. Ishmael said it felt like the sound was trapping him in the room, like it was bouncing off the rocks on the walls and getting louder and louder. It was almost to prove that nobody could hear you scream, no matter how loud you were. And then they start getting closer. Like, really slow, inching closer and closer. When they get right up in his face, they start yelling in Latin - Fac illud purum. It means ‘make it pure’. Then two of them just grab him and won’t let go. Another lady goes to the back where there’s these clay pots on top of coals and she grabs these pots of actual boiling water. And she just starts pouring it right on your head. He said it was so hot he thought his skin was literally gonna melt off and slide onto the floor. He tried to fight them off, but they were holding his wrists so hard their fingernails dug into his skin. I’m serious, Ishmael showed me the scars and everything. The whole time, half of them are just screaming their heads off and the other half are chanting Fac illud purum over and over and over and over. They sat there and poured boiling water on him for like an hour. Ishmael said he was screaming so much that his throat started tasting like blood, but they didn’t even care. They wouldn’t stop. Then, his mom walks in. She carried the baptismal clothes folded in her arms. White linen sewn with gems and intricate lace. But he’s not even allowed to put them on himself. These old ladies have to do it for him. They worked the ties and the bone buttons without saying a word. He said when they were done he felt like a mummy. He could barely move.” “Wait, so that’s the baptism, just getting a bath by some old ladies?” Hunter scoffed trying to sound like he wasn’t scared. “No. That’s just them getting you ready for the baptism. After all of the washing, and getting him all dressed up they gave him this big golden goblet of wine. It was, like, almost black, and way thicker than a drink should be. He said it tasted like pennies and battery acid. For the actual baptism they pull you into the baptism hall, where there are pews set up and in the middle is the pool of Bethesda. But that’s where things get really really creepy. In the water there are the ghosts, the spirits. It’s all of the spirits of every person that ever lived here in the isles, and you can’t see them all but you can feel them. Ishmael said that as he was walking towards the pool it wasn’t like he was even moving himself, it was like hundreds of hands were moving his arms and legs and pulling him closer and closer to the pool. Then he saw it in the pool-” Isaiah paused to shove his first fist full of M&M’s into his mouth. “These are really freaking good.” “I know, the kids on the mainland eat them all the time, that’s how come they’re all so fat.” Hunter said. “What’s your excuse?” Serenity said, before she and Patience fell back into giggles. “What was in the freaking pool!?” Honesty finally yelled at Isaiah. The whole circle had been enjoying a little respite from another one of Isaiah’s creepy stories, but for Honesty the suspense was ratcheting in her brain. She was uninitiated to Isaiah’s horror stories as she wasn’t generally invited to these daytime bonfires. The suspense of the story was of course brought to a boiling point by the fact that they were all due to be baptised next week during Aestuarium. “Okay, okay -” Isaiah choked down his fistful of candy. “As he is coming up to the pool, he sees the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life slowly raising up out of the water, completely naked, and she’s calling to him. His dad is sitting right there watching it. Then all of the hands that he can’t even see throw him into the water and he is held down for like a really long time. His dad ended up lunging into the water and pulling him out and every one was screaming and yelling, all of the old women were screaming and crying and cutting themselves with knives. I guess they were like, going to kill them but then the Reverend stopped them and told them that they could stay in the chapel for the rest of the night but at sunrise they had to leave. Guess they were worried about killing them since Ishmael’s uncle is a lawyer back on the mainland. His whole family were converts here, weren’t even born here to begin with.” “Is that why none of us ever saw him after Asturarium?” Honesty whispered mostly to herself. “Yeah, exactly.” “That story doesn’t make any fuckin sense, Isaiah” Hunter retorted, mouth full of candy again. “My brother was baptised two years ago and he didn’t mention any of that spooky shit, said he got to drink some of the wine that the grown ups drink, then just got dipped in the water and it was fine.” “That’s the thing, Hunter.” He was visibly annoyed. “Ishmael thinks they just pulled him out too early. The water does weird shit to your brain, it screws with your thoughts and memory and stuff.” “What does that have to do with us not going near the river if it’s the water at the baptism.” “So, you know how we all get our water in those big tanks that come from the x_chng? Well, the Chapel is under the Reverends house, and I guess he’s like immune to the weirdness, or like he’s just able to drink the saltwater, I don’t know. Anyway, all of the water for his house comes straight out of the river, so obviously so does the baptism water.” “So what are you saying, there’s ghosts in the water.” Hunter leaned forward into a crouch. “Yup.” Isaiah replied bluntly. “You mean that water right…” he prepared his pounce “there!” He jumped towards Samuel sending him wheeling over backwards ass over tits rolling towards the river in a series of shrieks and screams. “What the heck dude!” Samuel got up, fists balled, as the rest of the group erupted in uncontrollable laughter. “Guys, guys, seriously” Isaiah wiped a tear away from his eye that had been jostled loose from laughter “that was very funny, but in all seriousness-” his face dropped. “Don’t. Touch. The Water.” Part two available here: https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/comments/1tpdi9g/aestuarium_sanctorum_or_the_story_of_a_dying_man/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button submitted by /u/TS_Montgomery to r/TalesFromTheCreeps [link] [comments]

Hey guys! Can yall please recommend the best hair salon for men in Bangalore with the best rates available? I usually get modern mullet typa hairstyle done but so far the experience in Bangalore has been pretty bad since they manage to butcher it one or the either way If anyone has a modern mullet, please let me know where yall get your hair done submitted by /u/Unhappy-Database-429 to r/BangaloreSocial [link] [comments]

By J. Douglas Turner I was walking through the woods the other day when I came across what I believe to be an old factory Tower. While rummaging through the place, I found a well-kept brown leather book on a desk in what looked like a foreman's office. It seems to be some kind of journal, and for the hell of it, I thought I would write it down and share the tales of one James Townlie. At least all the parts that are legible. I hope you guys find all of this as fun as I do! “Our wedding day went off without a hitch. Nina looked as beautiful as a mountain villa at sunset. Her dress was long and pearl colored with a floral design that flowed perfectly in the midday’s gentle breeze. Her shoulder-length hair framed her face with the elegance of a Victorian-era painting. Every moment of today was one of undesirable anxiety, given the unrelenting chaos that is Nina’s family. It was a miracle that her father’s family stayed sober for the whole event, and a bigger one that her mother’s side managed not to turn small talk into shouting matches. Nevertheless, we made it through one of the happiest and most stressful days of our lives. Soon we will be on our way to Boston for our honeymoon, just as soon as I finish this.” “We have finally arrived in Boston as of 11:30 this morning. The trip here was quite uneventful, but Nina is happy, and that is all that matters to me. We plan to walk the Freedom Trail tomorrow and visit some local shops around the hotel. Currently, we are having a cup of tea in a little coffee house, and then it is off to the Opera with us. I hope that tonight might end with us and a bottle of red watching the stars from the hotel roof. However, I am eternally grateful just to be with her for any amount of time.” “Our First full day in Boston was exhausting. I don't think I have ever walked this much in a day in my entire life. Nina wanted to stop in every shop and boutique she could find. Luckily for me, we found an old antique shop that I could not help but give a look through. There were china sets and a wide array of Hindu, Buddhist, and Mediterranean statues. However, the most interesting of all were the books. They had so many books on medicine and biology. One was a Turkish book on the lymphatic system. Another was an at-home apothecary, with home remedies for some things even I, as a resident, had never heard of. The most intriguing one to me of the lot was the journals of a Swiss noble from the 18th century on a wide variety of bodily systems. I bought all of them for further study, hoping they might help me with my medical studies. There might be something in them, some lost knowledge of a bygone era that could help the modern man. I will have to study them another time. My beautiful Nina is currently calling my name in the sweet tone of a water nymph. I can feel the steam from the bath she has drawn for herself, and I feel I would be a fool not to join her for a soak if there is room.” “Our second day has been very eventful. Nina wanted to drive around, so we procured a car and went for a Sunday drive through the city and some of the surrounding areas. We went to Bunker Hill, where Nina bought a book on the Salem witch trials and a small charm made from Raven bones, which she has clipped to one of the loops on her purse. We also saw John Adams’ home and took a look at the founder's old, shabby home. It is quite a lovely place in a simple way. It’s always strange to see how much better the modern man has it than our forbears. We had lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant run by a small family. A young woman, whom I could only assume to be the owner's daughter, waited on us at a very old oak table for two. We had calamari and a bottle of red wine. Nina got fettuccine Alfredo, which she gushed over for most of the night. I had a medium steak and a Caesar salad, both of which I had no complaints about. While we were there, Nina asked if we could go to Salem tomorrow for a little ghost tour. Never one to argue my love, I told her yes. I will never understand her fascination with the dead, but she does look better in a macabre setting.” “Our time in Salem today was eventful to say the least. We arrived in Salem at 5 o’clock and waited a good two hours for the Ghost tour until 7. Lucky for us, there was a restaurant with a witch theme that Nina absolutely adored. They served us bread in the shape of skulls, spiders, and headstones. I had a Cajun pork chop with sun-dried tomatoes over jambalaya. Nina ordered a 12-ounce dry-aged steak, Pittsburgh-style, with a house salad. After dinner, we walked to the tour guide stand and met with the rest of the group. Nina became quite friendly with our tour guide, a woman named Mary, with a plump, round face and a pear-shaped build, dressed in a loose-fitting white dress with what I could only assume were sweat stains on the hem. She also wore a dark brown leather corset and matching knee-high boots. Mary was a pale woman; the only color on her face was a soft red blush that made her look more lively. The makeup around her eyes was the real show stopper; it was done up like a raven’s wings. The color matched her wavy hair, which had been styled into a mullet. She told Nina and I that she was the designated witch, whose story she would tell us about on the walk through Salem. On the tour, we heard of dead men of the old motels, disembodied whaling of babies, and the one Mary said she always saved for last. “The final tale of my great, great, great-grandmother Margaret Taloway. Back in the 1700’s, after the Revolutionary War. Miss Margaret was married to John Taloway, the son and firstborn of the Taloway family, at the ripe age of 19. The Taloway family was very well off even by today’s standards. Their estimated wealth, adjusted for inflation, is about 20 million dollars. Sadly, however, Margaret did not get along with most of the Taloways. Mr. Edward Taloway, John’s father, loved Margaret like his own daughter, but Elizabeth and Sarah Taloway, John’s Mother and sister, hated her. Everything Margaret did could never be enough for them. All of the family troubles would come to a head when Edward would die suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 62. Elizabeth and Sarah would blame Margaret, claiming she had something to do with his sudden death, and would take her to court over it. John and Margaret would argue that she couldn’t have been the cause, for they were not home when Lord Edward died, and Margaret was 8 months pregnant at the time of Edward’s death. The judge would rule that she was innocent, and one month later, Margaret would give birth to a baby boy, whom she would name Edward. Unfortunately, John would die in a tragic hunting accident 4 years later. Leaving Margaret and little Edward alone with Sarah and Elizabeth. Little Edward would eventually come down with a bad fever. An Elizabeth would tell some townspeople that her grandson had died, but Little Edward was still seen around town; many people reported that the boy wasn’t quite right. Numerous people would claim that Edward was an otherworldly kind of strange, a sort of wrong that could not be put to words. Many would lay the claim that the boy was possessed; one of the local tavern owners would even claim that a horse trampled the boy, and half an hour later, he would get up as if nothing had happened. Margaret would remarry a local businessman and friend of the late Lord Edward, Henry Eden. They would go on to have two children together, Samual and Mary Eden. Sadly, however, the joy would never last. One day, while Henry and Mary were out on a business trip to Philadelphia, tragedy struck. A house fire burned down the Taloway mansion, killing Little Edward, Samual, and Sarah. Elizabeth, while Lord Henry was still away, would round up a mob and drag poor Margaret to the center of town to be burned under the claim that Margaret was a witch. Where, for once, Lady Elizabeth got her way. Margaret would be the last woman to be burned for the crime of witchcraft in the state in the year 1799. Some still say that you can see her and her children walking the streets of Salem in an endless search for each other.” For a brief moment at the end of Mary’s grueling tale. I could have sworn I saw a boy peeking out from an alleyway. His skin seemed sickly gray, and his eyes. They were an ungodly yellow that glowed like hellhounds. I am by no stretch of the imagination a believer in the paranormal, but that child was something out of the darkest pit of hell. His little face was wrinkled into a wicked snicker with every ounce of evil wrapped up into it like a vine of katsu around a ball of barbed wire. I still don't know if anyone else saw that creature or if it was just me. I asked Mary, and she said. “Your description matches what most people claim little Edward Taloway looks like, and he mostly looks at people from around corners.” We left after that and went back to our hotel room for the night. Nina is currently packing her bags so we can depart in the morning. Once I finish this, I shall pack my things as well, and by all hopes, we should be on our way home to Asheville. Until next time in Boston, it's been a strange pleasure.” It's about now that I feel I should mention I've taken a few liberties to make his stories flow a bit better. Additionally, the journal has no dates or other indicators as to the time frame in which it was written. The leather binding feels almost brand-new, but most of the pages are damaged, and James writes like an old man. His cursive is horrendous. It is so bad that I can barely decipher it, and some of the next few pages might take me a while to figure out. Until then, I'll keep you guys posted. submitted by /u/Due_Raccoon_8999 to r/TalesFromTheCreeps [link] [comments]

If you’ve ever thought that everything is a giant psy-op—that major events, the kind that dictate the course of American politics, are all fake and engineered—then the news that broke last week was as close to a total vindication as you’ll ever get. On the other hand, if you thought that “Color Revolutions” only happen overseas—and that America is immune from successful campaigns of mass deception, all orchestrated by corrupt political actors to mimic natural, grassroots events—then this is a story you need to hear. The “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, was supposedly the defining moment of Donald Trump’s first term in office. That’s what we were told, relentlessly, for years on end, by both political parties, along with every mainstream media outlet in the country - was a “mask-off moment,” in which neo-Nazis—emboldened by Donald Trump, supposedly—violently rioted in the streets, killing an innocent woman in the process. And, we were told, Donald Trump ENDORSED these neo-Nazis, live on national television, calling them “very fine people.” That’s what Joe Biden said when he launched his campaign for president - and about ten million times after that. The rally was definitive proof that white supremacy was alive and well in the United States, watch: Source: Joe Biden/YouTube.com “Charlottesville was also home to a defining moment for this nation in the last few years. It was there, on August of 2017, we saw Klansmen and white supremacists and neo-nazis come out in the open. Their crazed faces, illuminated by torches, veins bulging and burning the fangs of racism, chanting the same antisemitic bile heard across Europe in the ‘30s. And they were met by a courageous group of Americans, and a violent clash ensued. And a brave young woman lost her life. And that’s when we heard the words of the President of the United States that stunned of the world and shocked the conscience of this nation. He said there were, quote, ‘some very fine people on both sides.’ Very fine people on both sides? With those words, the President of the United States assigned a moral equivalence between those spreading hate and those with the courage to stand against it.” Well, all of corporate America lined up to push this message - shortly after the “Unite the Right” rally, Apple announced a $2 million donation to so-called “anti-hate groups,” including SPLC, the Southern Poverty Law Center. The CEO, Tim Cook, declared that “Hate is a cancer, and left unchecked it destroys everything in its path.” JPMorgan Chase and the Clooney Foundation did the same thing - in fact, JPMorgan’s CEO, Jamie Dimon, said that the company would match employee donations to the SPLC. He also disbanded an advisory panel to the president, for reasons that were never clear. But the SPLC got exactly what it wanted - they isolated the president, they demonized conservatives, and they received millions of donations. And they never stopped. They kept hammering the “Unite the Right” narrative, and they kept fundraising off it, successfully. In fact, five days before Charlottesville, Cam Higby reports that SPLC received $375,000 from the state of Alabama, so this is an extremely well-funded group, with money coming in from everybody - including the taxpayers, apparently. And this continued for years - the Left was obsessed with Charlottesville, as you probably remember. It’s the hoax that simply never died. You know, you can make the case that it lasted longer than Russiagate. Four years after Biden’s campaign video, in 2024, Kamala Harris AGAIN invoked Charlottesville on the debate stage. Watch: Source: @TheTonus/X.com “Let’s remember Charlottesville, where there was a mob of people carrying tiki torches, spewing antisemitic hate. And what did the President then at the time say? There were fine people on each side.” Now, every single aspect of this narrative, as told by every media outlet and by every prominent politician in Washington, was a lie. We’ve known that for some time - Trump did not endorse white supremacy; in fact, he explicitly did the opposite. And contrary to what CNN would have you believe, you don’t have to be a neo-Nazi to oppose the removal of Robert E. Lee’s statue. You simply have to be an American - someone who’s interested in preserving our shared history and venerating our national heroes—of which Robert E. Lee is one of them—rather than defaming them. And that describes most of the people who attended that rally, and on top of that, you weren’t told the full story about the woman who died during this rally - you were led to believe that Heather Higher was murdered in cold blood by a white supremacist who drove into a crowd on purpose, but that’s not what the authorities believed at first, before the mob demanded vengeance. Police officers ACTUALLY thought the incident was NOT malicious at all, based on the fact that the driver was visibly horrified that somebody had died; the fact that his car had been surrounded and struck by an object; and the fact that the man had just googled directions to his home, not the place where the attack happened. In other words, he was not a domestic terrorist; it looked a lot like he got lost and panicked after he was surrounded on his way home. Now, these are points that, over the past decade, various conservative commentators have made, or tried to make, but they’ve never really resonated, in part, because many Republican politicians accepted the Left’s narrative on “Unite the Right” - it’s also because, as we all know from experience, it’s not easy to compete with a full on hoax once it gets going. Propagandists who were willing to lie, over and over again, no matter how flagrantly they do it, are usually pretty convincing. Now, the average person doesn’t have time to fact check every detail or do independent research. So when Ted Cruz claimed that an act of domestic terrorism had taken place in Charlottesville, most people were inclined to agree. But there was one aspect of the rally that, to give left-wing activists some credit, was difficult for conservatives to explain away. There were indeed photographs of several men at the “Unite the Right” rally, some of them carrying Nazi flags, and a couple of them yelled, “Jews will not replace us,” which was considered offensive to Leftists until about fifteen minutes ago. And it was difficult for some conservatives, in the face of that photographic and video evidence, to DENY that—at some level—this rally was organized, or at least popular with, a group of neo-Nazis on the Right. Now, of course, the appropriate response—even if that were true—would be to just ignore the outrage. The presence of a small number of people waving Nazi flags is not a national crisis, even if they’re genuine Nazis. We’re a country of more than 340 million people. If we’re going to allow five guys with Nazi flags to derail our entire political discourse, then we’re never going to accomplish anything. We’re also going to create an enormous incentive for the Left to wave Nazi flags around, and blame them on the Right - which, it appears, is exactly what happened. There’s now very good reason to believe that, at Charlottesville, what we saw was the product of a deliberate, engineered effort to destroy the image of Donald Trump and the Republican Party - again, back in 2017, a claim like that would seem pretty far-fetched to most people. After all, what are the odds that a well-funded left-wing group, aligned with the Democrat Party, would actually PAY people to act like Nazis at this small rally in Charlottesville, Virginia? What are the odds that, actually, the entire event was a psy-op engineered from the beginning, to give Democrats a pretext to wage war against quote-unquote “white supremacy,” which, of course, actually means “white people” and “conservatism” in general? Well, the odds were pretty good, as it turns out. Last night, the DOJ released an indictment alleging that the Southern Poverty Law Center, or SPLC, funded and supported an individual who was closely involved in coordinating the “Unite the Right” rally. And not only that - SPLC was funding (directly or indirectly) a lot of other supposedly “right-wing extremism,” including the KKK. Yes, according to the DOJ, the SPLC—the Left’s preferred “anti-hate group”—was allegedly paying affiliates of the KKK. Watch: Source: @SteveGuest/X.com “According to the indictment, between 2014 and 2023, SPLC paid at least $3 million to eight individuals at least. These individuals were affiliated with the Ku Klux Klan, United Clans of America, National Socialist Movement, Aryan Nations Affiliated Sadistic Souls Motorcycle Club, the Nationalist Socialist Party of America, Nazis, and the American Front. Now, as the indictment lays out, after SPLC paid members of these extremist groups, it created work product that reported on these activities that the members participated in or contributed to. And to that end, it was doing the exact opposite of what it’s told its donors it was doing - not dismantling extremism, but funding it. To carry out this scheme, SPLC created bank accounts in the name of at least five completely fictitious organizations that had no bonafide employees or legitimate business purpose. The money was passed from SPLC to one sham account to a second sham account, and then loaded onto prepaid cards to give to the members of the extremist groups.” Now, before we go into the specifics of the indictment, If you’re not familiar with the SPLC, they’re one of the most dishonest and dangerous left-wing organizations in the entire country - they exist to provide a pretext for the censorship and harassment of conservatives, with the goal of destroying their lives; they also hate Americans, especially white Americans. Now, take a look at this video, featuring Mark Potok, who worked with the SPLC at the time, and on the wall, you may notice a handwritten note documenting the decline of America’s “non-hispanic white population”. Watch: Source: @restoreorderusa/X.com So they zoom in, really close, on the numbers there. White people accounted for 90% of the population in 1920, only 62% in 2015 - to the SPLC, this is a big victory. They’re one of the main engines of demographic replacement - their goal is to demonize white people and claim that white supremacy is the greatest domestic threat, for the purpose of eliminating—or at least greatly diminishing—the white population. Now, to give just one example of how they operate, the SPLC put Turning Point USA on its “hate group” list shortly before Charlie Kirk was murdered. Here’s what Charlie wrote at the time, in May of last year. The SPLC has added Turning Point to their ridiculous “hate group” list, right next to the KKK and neo-Nazis. … Even former staffers called their racket a “con.” Their game plan? Scare financial institutions into debanking us, pressure schools to cancel us, and demonize us so some unhinged lunatic feels justified targeting us. Remember the Family Research Council? An SPLC-inspired gunman went after them. They’d love nothing more than to see TPUSA in the crosshairs. … Maybe someone should take a hard look at where all that “nonprofit” money’s really going? Well, now we’re finally discovering where the money went. Charlie also went on Fox to report that SPLC had targeted specific Turning Point chapters on college campuses. Watch: Source: @ginamilan_/X.com “Understand that they’re literally putting high school chapters of ours on a hate group next to the KKK and next to neo-Nazi groups. And I mean, we can laugh this off, there’s an element of this - remember that there was a shooter that went to the Family Research Council years ago, inspired by the SPLC list. This is them trying to make us basically surrender at Turning Point USA—we’re gonna do the opposite and our students are only going to lean in even more—but they can’t debate us on our ideas. They cannot have dialogue, they cannot actually go onto the merits of why they are right, or why we might be wrong - instead, they must smear us with the age-old oneliner that you are a racist or that you are a hater…” Now, in addition to the Family Research Council, which Charlie mentioned, the SPLC has also defamed the Federalist Society, PragerU, the Heritage Foundation, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, the Foundation to Abolish Abortion, and so on and so on. They’ve targeted individuals like Stephen Miller, Matt Walsh, James Lindsey, and Mike Cernovich as well, just to name a few, in their effort to de-monetize their channels and get them fired or killed. You can take a look at their profiles - they have profiles on their website, which you can see right there. Source: @libsoftiktok/X.com Matt Walsh, for example, is listed under “GENERAL HATE” and “ANTI-LGBTQ.” Now, this very befuddling, to say the least - I mean, if you’re gonna claim that someone is a hateful person, then you should be able to point out, specifically, how they’re hateful. What they’re hateful towards. But if you say someone is just “generally hateful,” you’re painting a broad brush—one that I would argue is pretty unfair, under the circumstances—I mean, give Matt Walsh some credit here. His hatred is actually pretty specific. It’s pretty specialized, specific hatred. But then a few people pointed out that “General Hate” might actually be his rank. So if someone is “General Hate,” that would put them above, you know, Major Hate, Lieutenant Colonel Hate - in which case they should gladly accept this prestigious title from the SPLC. In fact, Matt Walsh should add it to his bio next to “theocratic fascist” and “children’s author.” But in any event, this is a direct quote from the DOJ’s indictment, concerning the Southern Poverty Law Center - the indictment refers to a number of “F’s,” which is short for “field sources.” Between at least 2014 and 2023, the SPLC paid their Fs in a clandestine manner. Doing so hid the fact that while the SPLC received donation money under the auspices that the funds would be used to “dismantle” violent extremist groups, this donation money was, instead, being used, in part, by the SPLC to pay leaders and others within these same violent extremist groups. That money was then used for the benefit of the individuals as well as the violent extremist groups. … Between 2014 and 2023, the SPLC secretly funneled more than $3 million in SPLC funds to Fs who were associated with various violent extremist groups. … Examples of Fs who were secretly paid by the SPLC include, but are not limited to the following: F-37 was a member of the online leadership chat group that planned the 2017 ‘Unite the Right’ event in Charlottesville, Virginia and attended the event at the direction of the SPLC. F-37 made racist postings under the supervision of the SPLC and helped coordinate transportation to the event for several attendees. Between 2015 and 2023, the SPLC secretly paid F-37 more than $270,000.00. So yes, according to this indictment, the SPLC paid more than a quarter-million dollars to one person who coordinated the “Unite the Right rally,” and made racist posts under SPLC’s supervision. That’s a small fraction of the $3 million the SPLC has allegedly paid to fund various extremists in other groups. And what this means is that, if the DOJ’s indictment is accurate, the SPLC is probably the single greatest funder of “white supremacy,” quote-unquote, in the entire country. I mean, no one else is paying this kind of money to fund white nationalist rallies, which is why the SPLC had to do it themselves! Now, what needs to be emphasized here is that, fundamentally, the SPLC is not some random one-off left-wing activist group. They are a wing of the Democrat Party in charge of engineering domestic Color Revolutions with fraudulent narratives that they invent out of thin air, for the purpose of overthrowing conservative administrations and replacing them with Leftists. And then, once the Leftists are in charge, SPLC starts writing MEMOS which the FBI uses to justify violent crackdowns on conservatives. For example, a couple of years ago, the FBI field office in Richmond declared that Catholics were a domestic terror threat. Here’s what the FBI wrote. FBI Richmond assesses the increasingly observed interest of racially or ethnically motivated violent extremists in radical-traditionalist Catholic (RTC) ideology almost certainly presents opportunities for threat mitigation through the exploration of new avenues for tripwire and source development. … As of 2021, the Southern Poverty Law Center identified nine RTC hate groups operating in the United States. So you see how this works. Very similar to Russiagate, the FBI’s allies in a left-wing group write some memo, then the FBI will CITE that memo as if it’s an independent justification to launch an investigation, and meanwhile, INSIDE the FBI, agents were writing their OWN emails about how INSANE this was that the SPLC is dictating the FBI’s activities! Here’s one of those emails, where FBI employees react to the designation of some Catholics as a hate group, at the behest of the SPLC. One FBI employee writes: Ummm, that is interesting, several thoughts, but mostly, who is the customer. Is anyone really asking for a product like this? Apparently we are at the behest of the SPLC. And then an agent replies: Yeah, our overreliance on the SPLC for hate designations is .. problematic. But the rank-and-file agents don’t have any power; the people running the government—the Biden administration at the time—KNEW the SPLC was manufacturing “hate groups.” That was the whole point. The more “hate groups” that the Left could manufacture, the easier it would be for Joe Biden to take the stage in front of a blood-red background, flanked by Marines, and declare that Republicans represented a threat to the Republic. Watch: Source: Bloomberg Television/YouTube.com “Too much of what’s happening in our country today is not normal! Donald Trump and the MAGA Republicans represent an extremism that threatens the very foundations of our Republic.” Now, this bizarre, ominous speech laid the groundwork for the FBI’s attacks on religious liberty, including predawn SWAT team raids on peaceful pro-life demonstrators. It also laid the groundwork for the campaign of lawfare against Donald Trump, which had no precedent in American history. People are more willing to accept an authoritarian takeover when you convince them that their opponents are really domestic terrorists. This is why Biden and Merrick Garland declared that “white supremacy” was the greatest domestic terror threat facing the country - all of their messaging was directly in sync with the SPLC, because the were getting it from the SPLC. And that’s why, according to the DOJ, the SPLC’s efforts went far beyond the “Unite the Right” rally. This is also from the DOJ’s indictment, about another field source for the SPLC. F-9 was affiliated with the neo-Nazi organization, the National Alliance and served as an F for the SPLC for more than 20 years. F-9’s activities included fundraising for the National Alliance. Between 2014 and 2023, the SPLC secretly paid F-9 more than $1,000,000.00.. So if we’re following this allegation, the SPLC paid a million dollars to somebody who was “affiliated with a neo-Nazi organization.” And then this informant, in turn, raised money for the neo-Nazi organization - so, according to this indictment, the SPLC was going out of its way to ensure that a neo-Nazi group remained in existence! At the same time, they were calling for the eradication of “right-wing hate,” but they actually were doing everything in their power to fund neo-Nazis, and it was clear why they wanted to do that. Take a look at this screenshot from the SPLC’s website. The caption reads, “The Department of Homeland Security posted this image with the caption “Which Way, American Man?” in August 2025. The caption appears to be a reference to a white nationalist book published by the National Alliance, a neo-Nazi hate group.” So again, you see how this works - the SPLC wants groups like the National Alliance to exist, so that they can accuse the Trump administration of associating with them. Meanwhile, the SPLC doesn’t TELL you that, in secret, they’re not simply ASSOCIATING with these groups - they are FUNDING them! And according to the indictment, this happened all the time. The SPLC [funnelled] more than $160,000.00 from a fictitious entity to F-11 who then sent funds to various violent extremist group leaders including the former Grand Wizard of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. Now, it’s the kind of strategy that’s effective because, unless you’re extremely familiar with how depraved left-wing activists are, it would never OCCUR to you that they’re doing ANY of this. But they feel a need to do it, because otherwise, there would BE no right-wing “hate groups!” If the SPLC did not fund them, they would not exist. And then Democrats would lose power, and the SPLC would run out of money. Now, it’s the same reason that your anti-virus software bugs you all the time. If your anti-virus software told you the truth—which is that you really don’t need to pay for anti-virus software anymore—then obviously nobody would subscribe, so instead, they pester you with fake “threats” and scare tactics. And it’s the same principle, except in the case of the SPLC, they were having a substantial effect on American politics. Now, the more you read this indictment, the more you realize how shameless it was - according to the DOJ, the SPLC was paying the same Klan members it was complaining about, by name, on its website. F-unknown was the Imperial Wizard of the United Klans of America. In an article published on November 22, 2013, the SPLC described the group as a “millennial reboot of what was once a serious domestic threat. … F-30 led the National Socialist Party of America, was the former director of a faction of the Aryan Nations, and a former member of the Ku Klux Klan. The SPLC website contained an “Extremist File” webpage for F-30 from which the SPLC solicited donations. Between 2014 and 2016, the SPLC secretly paid F30 more than $70,000.00. This overlapped the time period in which F-30 was featured on the SPLC’s “Extremist File” webpage. Now, this appears to be that webpage, from the SPLC. As you can see, they characterize the guy as a Neo-Nazi, and meanwhile, they’re paying him tens of thousands of dollars. So I gotta say, as an aside, if I were listed in that website, I’d get a little frustrated, because again, there are individuals like Stephen Miller and Matt Walsh who were ALSO listed on their website of “extremists.” They put them on the list. They have their photos up and everything, and they were on their hate map, as people who absolutely must be stopped - and yet, for all of this, they weren’t paid a single cent at any point! Matt Walsh served as “General Hate” without any compensation whatsoever! Meanwhile, the KKK wizards were just like, raking it in. If nothing else, I’ll say this whole situation gives me new respect for Jussie Smollett, because he really kid of bootstrapped his fake hate crime and paid for it himself, rather than having SPLC organize and fund it for him. He didn’t need SPLC money any more than those other people did, so, you know, there’s a lesson here: You know, support your local mom and pop hate crime hoax operations. You gotta do it now, before they’re all put out of business by, you know, the big guys like SPLC. Now, of course, all kidding aside, SPLC was not offering money to genuine conservatives who are effective at advancing conservatism. The idea was to fund and prop up the alleged “right wingers” who were USEFUL to SPLC and the Left. And I suspect that soon, whether through this investigation or those to come, we’re gonna find out that there are a fair number of faux conservative figures, the most embarrassing and ridiculous ones, who’ve been getting paid by the forces they pretend to oppose. You know, there’s a symbiotic relationship between left-wing activist groups and the supposedly right-wing grifters. And this relationship has always been obvious - now we’re learning about its financial dimensions. Speaking of which, back to the KKK—what exactly were they doing to get all this SPLC money—well, here’s one example: it turns out that, about a decade ago, there was a big controversy in Georgia over something called the “Adopt a Highway Program” - the idea is that, if you’re an organization, you can “adopt” a section of the state highway system if you agree to pick up garbage along the side of the highway. In exchange for picking up the trash, you get to have your group’s name posted on signs alongside the stretch of highway that you have “adopted.” There was a similar program in Missouri for a while, which led to the creation of this sign along the highway, and eventually, the sign was taken down, apparently because the KKK didn’t pick up enough trash. But in any event, you can see why the KKK would want this kind of visibility; it’s basically free advertising from the government. And apparently, the SPLC was a big fan of that advertising, as well. This is from the indictment F-43 was the reported National President of American Front and a convicted federal felon for his participation in a cross burning. Between 2016 and 2019, the SPLC secretly paid F-43 more than $19,000.00. F-unknown was a member of the Ku Klux Klan and married to an Exalted Cyclops of the Ku Klux Klan. F-unknown and their spouse were involved in litigation whereby the Ku Klux Klan applied to take part in the Adopt-a-Highway program. During the course of the litigation, known payments were traced from the SPLC to F-unknown which exceeded $3,500.00. Now, it’s not exactly clear what that money bought, but it sounds like the SPLC was all in favor of the KKK getting a stretch of the highway named after them. This is how pro-white supremacy the SPLC is. I mean, they’re all-in! They won’t stop until every stretch of highway in the country is named after a KKK grand wizard! We’re gonna run out of grand wizards, soon enough! I don’t know how many there have been. That’s the extent of their commitment to anti-racism. As Ibram X. Kendi (aka Henry Rogers) once said, the only way to combat racism is to be as racist as possible, and the SPLC, more than any other organization on the planet, has definitely taken that advice to heart. Now, the rest of the indictment outlines the ways in which the SPLC is allegedly laundered money through shell companies to these various informants. Now, the SPLC allegedly set up fake companies like the “Center Investigative Agency” or CIA, as well as “Fox Photography,” “North West Technologies,” the “Tech Writers Group,” and a “Rare Books Warehouse.” The idea is that, for obvious reasons, the SPLC didn’t want to cut checks from their own account, so they may have broken the law by creating a bunch of fake companies to send the wire transfers, and in addition to that, the DOJ is claiming that donors were basically defrauded, because they were donating with the expectation that they were “fighting” right-wing extremism - not FUNDING it! Now, this is obviously an ongoing case, and the SPLC is claiming that it was simply paying informants to undermine these groups. And already, Democrats, including Hakeem Jeffries, are claiming that the Trump administration is “weaponizing” the DOJ to go after its political opponents, which, of course, is something that Democrats would never do. /s For their part, the Democrats’ allies in the media are mostly ignoring the story - Newsbusters reports that: ABC, CBS, and NBC all bit their tongues rather than report on the downfall of the self-proclaimed “anti-hate” group. In fact, only PBS reported on the indictment. … [But] PBS’s report on the indictment was vague and unclear. The charges were recited but not explained. The SPLC’s CEO was allowed in for a friendly soundbite. Well, imagine that. After years of talking nonstop about Charlottesville, NONE of the mainstream media outlets are gonna talk about SPLC’s role in helping ORGANIZE the rally. After decades of citing the SPLC as a credible source of information on so-called “hate groups,” none of them are gonna talk about the federal allegations that the company was funding those same groups! Apparently, they’re going with the argument from the Democrat Party, which is that, well, the SPLC was simply using “informants” for legitimate purposes. And meanwhile, something called the “Jewish Council for Public Affairs” just released a bizarre statement defending SPLC, saying they do valuable work to “counter violent extremism” — never mind the fact that they fund it. Now, these arguments, of course, amount to complete BS. When you’re paying millions of dollars, you’re not buying “informants” - you’re supporting the organizations themselves, and propping them up. It’s obvious what the game was. SPLC FUNDED “right-wing extremist” groups so that it could turn around and fundraise off of them, and use them as a PRETEXT to crack down on conservatives nationwide. That’s what was happening. But the thing is that, even if these excuses were true—that they were just paying “informants” as part of an “investigation” or whatever—it would just serve to underscore the degree to which the Left has created quasi-government agencies despite having no legal authority to do so! The SPLC—according to their own defense—was basically acting like the FBI, hiring undercover agents to “disrupt terrorism” and so on. They have no authority to do that! They’re not a law enforcement agency! It’s hard to ignore the fact that, based on this indictment, we’ve been living under the tyranny not just of unelected judges and unelected bureaucrats, but also of unelected activist organizations that have been empowered to act as agents of the government! Now, I’ve been beating this drum for a while now - about the need for the Trump administration to go to war with these fake non-profits and NGOs that, in reality, are criminal front-groups for the Democrat Party. And with this indictment, more than a half a year after the murder of Charlie Kirk, the Trump administration is finally getting serious about doing that. And that’s genuinely worth applauding. I have plenty of criticisms about this administration, which I have voiced many times, and will continue to. But if they can dismantle these cancerous left-wing front groups—the same way they closed the border and shut down the fraudulent asylum claims—then unequivocally, this administration will have been a success. It certainly would be a lot better than what the alternative would have been. And as tempting as it might be to engage in doomerism and to complain nonstop, we do need to celebrate wins when they happen. We need to recognize this indictment is a sign of major progress, and it needs to continue. And we also need to understand, at the same time, that SPLC is just the tip of the iceberg. The SPLC, as alleged, is a criminal organization. Every Leftist activist group is just as corrupt and dishonest and sinister as this. They all want you dead. They all have no problem using hoaxes and pay-ops to get what they want. They all celebrated what happened to Charlie Kirk. They’re all willing to go to extraordinary lengths—lengths unfathomable to sane people—to defame, harass, and destroy their opponents. So it’s not crazy to wonder WHO, for instance, was actually behind January 6th. I mean, if they’re willing to spend millions of dollars on false flag operations, for the purpose of generating a narrative they can use to demonize and jail their political opponents for several years, and also fundraise off of, then it’s not exactly a stretch to conclude that January 6th was probably just like Charlottesville - a well-funded psy-op. It’s not exactly unheard of. Something similar to this incident happened back in 2001, in Germany. The federal government wanted to ban the “National Democratic Party of Germany,” saying they were run by Nazis. But the plan fell apart when it emerged that, in fact, “confidential informants of German intelligence agencies” were “active in the leadership of the party.” Intelligence agencies and activist groups have never stopped running this playbook. During the Canadian trucker convoy, some mysterious Nazi flags appeared - and the people holding them eventually went back to a hotel that was being used by Canada’s federal police. So these kinds of psy-ops are extremely common. But if you say any of this out loud, they’ll come after you, relentlessly. You know, they bankrupted Alex Jones and stole his company, not because of anything he said about a school shooting, but because he made observations like this, about Charlottesville: Source: @HarrisonHSmith/X.com “Charlottesville was mainly a bunch of homosexual Leftists dressing up like Nazis, who’d all formerly worked for Obama or Hillary, part of their art club, and then they lured a bunch of reporters there and some real white supremist, so the police could stand down and collide them into the folks - I pointed out that some of the same Leftist foundations are funding the white supremist, that are funding real white supremist in Ukraine. I got SUED for that, even though it’s, you know, that they tried to say that I said some cameraman killed the girl. I didn't say that the cameraman killed them, I said it was all part of Leftists coming out to come to this big event and hope there was some big crisis out of it to demonize the Right in general and tie us to Nazis…” So it turns out that was 100% correct. I mean, he was exactly right. He saw through it at the time. , and they destroyed him for it. The press, the NGOs, and the nonprofits all denounced him and made sure he lost everything. That’s what happened to a lot of people. And now, lawfully and without any apologies whatsoever, we have no choice but to do the same to them. submitted by /u/AllNewNewYorker to r/ModlessFreedom [link] [comments]

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