Wednesday, 28 January 2015

DIRTY WAR BLOODY SUNDAY



In my teenage years before Bloody Sunday, I used to go to the Hangar in Salthill, after a few pints in O'Connors. My favourite group at that time, was the Freshmen, who used to play a lot in Seapoint, their religion and political allegiance, were irrelevant. Belfast was producing the best music in Ireland, in my opinion at that time, including Van Morrison and other blues groups, who did a lot of the backing for some the top groups worldwide on their vinyl releases.


I loved music and in particular dancing. It was one of the outlets, to express how I felt, and these groups turned me on. Thin Lizzie were just starting at that time and they were great for headbanging. Most people "jived" at that time, but with a few pints in me, I would cut loose on the floor and I didn't give a phuck what people thought. I learned years later, how to do this sober and it was a great outlet for pent-up emotion and there was also something spiritual about it.


A lot of people used to come down from the north of Ireland to Salthill, from the north in July, to get away from the Orangemen and the troubles they created, with their marching and "Taig" bashing season. I was working in O'Learys bar at the time and I used to give them free drink.Then the fights between the Stickies and the Provos started and they wrecked the place.


I met Cathleen in the Hangar, we danced a few dances including a few slow ones, which was really sex standing up. We chatted and I learned Cathleen was from the Arran Islands and she worked in one of the Hotels for the Summer season. Well I could feel Cathleen wanted it as much as I did, but in those days we did not have a pad or anything like it. So we went out into a field at the back of the Hangar.


Now again, these were the days of Catholic Ireland before the Cosmopolitan rag and birth control pills, so everything was up for grabs and our clothes came off, except our blue jeans. Well between Cathleen's hunger for a bit of rough and my own, it was hell for leather. Now I don't know about teenagers these days but it was raw and pure sexual passion.


We were grinding with our jeans, from after midnight, until the crack of dawn. Now that's a long time for a couple with their jeans on, and Cathleen had as much sexual power, if not more than I had. Anyway she dug her clawing nails, into my bare back as she craved coileach, the whole night long, while she tore the skin off it.


At dawn being the gentle soul that I was back then, I crawled back as best we could, with her to her room in Bushypark, which seemed an eternity away to my bandy legs, sore crotch and bleeding back. That was the last I saw of Cathleen but I did have a session with her sister, the night before she got married the following year. That was Catholic sex back then, which later, with a couple of Convent beoirs fromTuam, introduced me, to the concept of three in a bed.


I worked as a barman at that time, in a lot of the pubs in Salthill, until I became a computer technician, and Galway was a place of fun in those times, but this all changed after Bloody Sunday. The British Embassy was burned down in Dublin and most of the young fellows I knew, were either going up to Derry to join the IRA or talking about it. Like the lads from the north however, this question, of joining either the Official IRA or the Provisional IRA, was a very hot issue and many a good friendship was lost over it.The Brits and their agents, along with ego, were cultivating this division, as are their agents today, between Irish people from both the north and the south of Ireland.


So right from the off, the Brits had us where they wanted us, divided, with Martin McGuinness from Derry, a leading player in all of this. I will not elaborate further, for obvious reasons and I am not going into the realm of speculation, you can do that yourself, but unlike Owen Carron he wasn't anywhere to be seen, after the Brits butchered the innocent

Anyway, the days of wine and roses, turned to pure rage and hatred after that. In hindsight, it is easy to be wise, and know that reactionary violence is not smart and is ultimately self-destructive. Dirty War is a dark art, mastered by the British, with the unlimited resources of Empire, under the cloak and protection, of a rotten British justice system, that includes political internment and outsourced torture.

The Brits with all their experience in their colonies, know the script from the off and were prepared, being the clever manipulators they are, they took full advantage of the ensuing provoked rage, to conduct their Kitson experiments, that later evolved into to Abu Ghraib, False Flag operations, counter gangs, astroturf political entities, to create political parties, to do their bidding worldwide after exit, with covert neo-colonialism, which incidentally includes the united snakes of a,b,c,d....etc.

Eventually like my father before me and many an Irishman since, I took the boat from our impoverished land of Saints and Scoundrels to England, where I squatted in the pad, of the framed, innocent Guilford Four. Those were the "hippy" days in Maida Vale and London of John Lennon's time, of give peace a chance, who later met his fate in New York.

It was there, I met a wee woman from a locality, known as the Murder Triangle, in County Armagh, where 120 innocent people were murdered by the British police known as the RUC and the British Army known as the UDR.The people who tried to defend the community were locked up and spent most of their live in jails.

We got married and had five children. One of the primary political motivations, that kept me going, in the ensuing years, was that my children, would be free of all of this one day and have a decent chance at life. Well, Britain's Dirty War in Ireland Ireland still continued for many a year, in fact it still does, albeit more subtly, which led, to what in my opinion, was a Pseudo Peace Process, built on half-truths and the creation of British Sinn Fein.

The reason I use those terms, is that after the British felt they had "sanitized" the situation, i.e. killing or interning any real resistance, a tinkered agreement of sorts, included the disbandment of the now disgraced RUC paramilitary police, to be replaced with an illusionary proper police force,the called "PSNI," with a certain amount of "Catholics" allowed, which was run by a Chief Constable brought over from from London, initially.

After he left, they replaced him, with a Chief Constable from the ranks of the disgraced RUC, to take charge, while British Sinn Fein's chief enforcer of 'outlaws and disorder' former IRA person, Gerry Kelly, ordered Irish people, to become informers to British Forces in Occupied Ireland.
There is a video below from the British Broadcasting Corporation, the leading presstitute of empire, which despite their spin, can give you an insight of the problem of such a force being run by goat lovers.

This coupled with MI5 procuring guns for informers, trainingg them to kill in Ballykinlar with letting them loose in society, with a licence to kill or kneecap, whoever they please, coupled with arranging a drug supply from the 'Lords of the Global Drug Trade' and false flags of political convenience, to discredit genuine, innocent, Irish republicans, which causes mayhem and confusion, all over the island, while lazy paramilitary police of the PSNI and MI5, sit back laughing at the intimidated communities bunkered down in fear. Iris, Willie and the Provos, collaborate in this racket as well.

Now if I were still living in Occupied Ireland, I can assure you, that I would either be dead, or politically interned , with some contrived accident or other, for writing about all of this, in such explicit terms. The general status of most of the population, living in fear of kneecappings, has made people very self-centered. To put it in a nutshell, the policy is to keep them terrorized, drunk, doped up and ignorant, with censorship, drugs, drink and religion.

This is what passes for a peace process, which in reality is a sick, secret, society of fear, with medication and ignorance, bred by rampant censorship and subsidized by the ordinary English taxpayer to the tune of 10 billion pounds annually. The British have indeed, mastered the dark arts of repression, while the fat cats of the 'terrorist narrative' budget grows annually, fuelled with fear.They usually will not censor Irish Blog directly but their West Brit agents will. They use intranets to slow it down sufficiently to prevent it being read in Ireland. If you disagree, with this analysis, I encourage you to do your own research and you can judge for yourself.

I suggest you start by watching their own BBC video below, while asking yourself the question, would you follow Kelly's orders and inform on your family and friends, who might be engaged in some form of resistance to British Occupation, to have them possibly assassinated or tried by a nonjury court?

Would you inform a a police force, headed by a Chief Constable, from the ranks of the former, murdering, disgraced RUC, who have framed the two young lads, in the picture heading this post, just like, they framed the innocent Guildford Four and put them away, for the rest of their lives, but for the persistence of a few good people, post Bloody Sunday, they would have all died in prison?

No amount of tinkering, with this scum, sectarian state, they like to call Northern Ireland, will make it a fit place, for civilised people to rear their children. I really tried as best I could, to keep my children away from politics, when I lived there, particularly, the drama of the hunger strike. When my second son was three or four, he went up to a British soldier on Hill Street and said, "When I grow up, I am going to shoot you, because you killed Bobby Sands."

I wanted my children to grow up in an Ireland, free from this British Dirty War, that destroyed my generation. It's not happening and I am angry, that after 45 years of "Dirty War," it still goes on, and it won't stop, until we find a better way. Young people will not change their tactics unless a better route such as International Standards of Justice are offered to them in Ireland.

British Sinn Fein won't do it, because like their paymasters, the British Government, they have too many dirty secrets and vested interests in the status quo. Martin McGuinness may waffle on about a united Ireland in the near future, but the butcher from Derry has no credibility left, with intelligent, people, who have been educated by their experience of Dirty War over the last forty-five years. He would be better oof in the House off Lords in London, beside his beloved assholes, where there are plenty of toilets to lick, the last time I checked.

I have no problem, standing before the International Criminal Court and abiding by civilised standards of International Justice. Who but the guilty, would have a problem with that? So Britain out with you war criminals, let's be having you. Who's afraid of the truth, none but the guilty? I am calling on any ethical political leadership, left in Ireland, to unite, like the Palestinian Authority and put Britain in the dock for crimes against humanity and genocide, committed in Ireland. I am asking you, dear reader, wherever you are in th world, whatever your nationality, to help yourself and them. It may be Ireland today but it may very well be you and yours, tomorrow, with these united snakes of False Flags and their Dirty Wars, crawling around the globe.

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