NOTE: I have re-posted this article because it is so relevent to the impending crises with Obama insisting it will be safe to bring terrorists into the United States. There are many valid arguments being made in opposition to the inept Obama policy, but no one is talking about the groupies and fanatics that follow prisoners just to be near them. It’s an old article, but feel free to comment. Thanks, Neo
————————————————————————————————
Except for a few good neighbors who called our little corner of the world home, but worked in town, we were mostly farmers, or farm related workers of one sort or another, or offspring of all of these. Of course, there were also a few retirees in the community, retired only because they had spent their bodies in the backbreaking work of farming and animal husbandry. We also had a parsonage there, occupied by the preacher and his family, and we were blessed to have sweet old Mr. & Mrs. Dawkins, who owned and operated the local grocery and branch post office, and lived in the house attached to the back of the store.
To me, time seemed to stand still in our community. Even though generations passed into the dust, an endless procession of offspring stepped up to take the helm, without so much as a missed furrow or the moo from a concerned cow. The new young generation seemed to have values and habits, not unlike those of their parents and grandparents. We went to the same school our parents went to, worshiped and married in the same church our parents were married in, and we bought groceries from Mr. and Mrs. Dawkins who seemed immortal.
Then one day, awhile after Mr. Dawkins died of a heart attack, Mrs. Dawkins sold the store. A few strangers also began to move into the community, as it became vogue to own a few acres out in the country, and make a home there even if you were a city slicker. We accepted just about everyone into our little community, with open arms… that is until “THEY” showed up.
They drove a van with Oregon plates, blacked out back windows, and what seemed like a quarter inch of permanent road dirt. They moved into a rental house sitting on five acres just a half mile from my house. They were white, or might have been if they had bathed just a little more often. I would call them white trash actually, because they sure were trashy. He had long and unkempt black hair that looked as if it were cut with garden sheers, and though she was a brunette, they made a good matched set.
They had several children who appeared to be malnourished and small for their ages, but you could not tell for sure, because the children were seldom seen, and did not attend school. The many attempts by school officials to contact the parents about the children’s schooling were unsuccessful. They were experts at flying under the radar, and would simply not answer the door, or would disappear for weeks at a time when the heat was on. Eventually two more vans showed up that looked a lot like the first, and since they arrived an departed mostly under cover of darkness, no one knew what the newcomers looked like, or how many there were.
Then one day, I was helping my son with his homework when my wife said, “Oh my God!” I rushed into the living room in time to catch words I would never forget. The evening news was featuring a special report, and a reporter was interviewing a woman …yes, our mysterious neighbors had made the evening news. The woman was proclaiming angrily that it was not fair, and “Charlie got a raw deal.” The woman was nearly in tears, and part of a larger contingent that had assembled in the nearby town to protest the life sentence of Charles Manson.
You see, a federal penitentiary had been built adjacent to the small town near our farm community, and Manson had been moved there to live out the remainder of his disgusting life under lock and key. The mystery of our odd neighbors was now solved. They were Manson groupies who admire such degenerate scumbags, and follow them from prison to prison so they can be in close proximity to their idols. They were very scary people, and seemed to be inclined to radical behavior if not violent. Once they were exposed, the owners inspected the house they occupied, and found it in a state of disrepair, which thankfully provided a good reason for their eviction.
I always suspected they were a satanic cult, but whether they were or not, that was the last I saw or thought of the Manson groupies. That is until I heard that Obama plans to bring the Guantanamo Bay terrorists to a city near you. When I heard that, I flashed immediately back the bizarre experience our community endured because domestic terrorist, Charles Manson was kept nearby. What then shall we look forward too, when we bring murdering Islamic radicals into prisons near American cities? They think they are on a mission from God, and their ticket to Heaven is killing any American.
Obama to America: “But, They Got a Raw Deal!”
Great analogy.
I remember a documentary where dear ‘ol Charlie said, “I’ll be the devil if I ever get up on that highway”. Yup, I think he meant it too.
I think he meant it too TR60… And I also think the Guantanamo Muslims and their radical relatives who will come to American communities to be near their terrorist kinsmen would like to “get up on that highway too.” Thanks for the comment!