I was asked by Ken, whom I esteem most highly and whose website "Pope Hat" is among the finest published today, to write a special guest contribution. I would like to thank Ken for this opportunity, and all of you, my most valued friends, for reading this important message.
Friends, what do you think of, when I mention the common American pony, or, as science calls it, Equus Maleficus? Like most, you probably think of fairgrounds and hayrides and smiling kids. Have you considered that behind the smiling mask that is Equus Maleficus, there lurks the grin of a hate-crazed demon? I swear it is true. I have been to the ceremonies. I have drunk the sacrificial offerings. I have spoken with the nameless devotees of the pony cult, high atop the barns, as the ponies circled below, feasting on the children, my ears ringing with the din of the screams, a din so shudderingly perverse as to shock the conscience of hardcore Satanists.
Make no mistake. Ponies are in league with Lucifer. After forty-three years of nightmare and terror, saved only by a desperate conviction to tell the truth, I am here to vouch for that which "sane" men fear to utter. There is reason to believe that the pony was in fact the beast which tempted Eve into eating the forbidden fruit, for do not ponies eat the apple, sweetest of all the harvest? Yes, the HARVEST. And at the Harvest, each May Eve and Walpurgisnacht, the robed, masked figures sit gibbering before their pony idols, chanting the chants and praying the prayers to their obscene gods, the ponies, who are well sated by the blood and flesh of the innocent, the virgins. The virgins, how their screams echo round the hills and valleys, as the ponies come to take their tribute. A tribute whose cost, over the centuries, must be reckoned with that taken by Adolf Hitler himself.
Yes. Adolf Hitler. None dare call it treason, and yet it is fact, cemented in stone, that the so-called Aryan unbermensch was a devotee, nay, a high priest, of the pony cult. And at the ceremonies, the shouts and cries of the Jewish children, ripped from their mothers' bosoms and fed to the ponies by hand, caused Father Martin Heinmuller, an early convert to Nazism, the public front of the pony cult, to faint on the spot, blood bursting from his ears in an astonishing orgy of woe. This was his testimony at Nuremberg, the testimony that led to the conviction and execution of Baldur Von Schirach, leader of the Hitler Youth and High Epopt of the pony cult.
These things have happened. Man must be prepared to accept notions of the cosmos, and of his own place in the seething vortex of time, whose merest mention is paralyzing. He must, too, be placed on guard against a specific lurking peril within, the pony, Equus Maleficus, which is the gateway to the door of death. Their hand is ever at your throat, though you see it not. "As a foulness shall ye know them." The pony is a spiritual corrupter, a ghost of fire made flesh, come to devour the good and the young. For was it not, as told in the Holy Qur'an, Al Rum, the pony that misled the Prophet Muhammad and deceived him into drinking the very wine of foulness?
Other examples, through religion and history, can be given. As for me, my time is short. The ponies come. I pray that this missive is heeded, though it be too late to save me from the gnawing teeth, the trampling hooves. Be on guard, lest they come for you.
Last 5 posts by Special Guest Contributor
- A Warning To All Mankind - February 7th, 2015