I want you to become aware of a little known fact: the future is no mystery. It has been precisely recorded. It’s simply a matter of knowing where to look. To make such a preposterous statement, I must and will produce proof.

 Over one-half century ago, six paintings—I’m going to call them “visuals”— were completed that describe in detail today’s America, not a lot of fuzzy Nostradamus nonsense.

According to an ancient Chinese Sage, a picture is worth a thousand words. Even today’s police departments, a thousand years later, agree with that assessment. The first three visuals we will examine are portraits of the United States today, portraits taken 50 years ago. They have been tested by time and proven to be 100% correct. Later, I will introduce others, only 10-20 years old. Will they also be 100% correct? I don’t know, but what I do know is it’s not going to take 50 years this time to find out.

A Look at United States 2013…

…a nation hopelessly divided and full of “victims.” Society has broken down into tribal territories with well-defended and guarded borders. Today’s leaders exhibit a bizarre inability to solve even simple problems. Passive entitlements have replaced the pursuit of personal achievement. Freedom has been replaced by apathy and socialism. Most importantly, spiritual ingratitude has replaced spiritual faith. The Americans of 75 years ago have disappeared: you know, that angry old white man the P.C. liberals love to vilify. That man of 75 years ago, walking today’s American streets, would think he was in a foreign country… and he is.

One-term politicians have secure lifetime tenure by fostering discontent. The country has been divided into serfdoms where they rule as kings, rewarding their “people” with other people’s stuff—for free. To continue living high on the hog, they have destroyed America.

Enough serious talk. Let’s get down and dirty, don our hazmat suits, and approach this bloody, dung-splattering monstrosity cannibalizing itself: America 2013, a far cry from Uncle Sam 1960, a slim, broad-shouldered, mature, fatherly figure, respected and loved, who could rally millions to arms with a pointed finger.

 Those once lofty high places of government have been abandoned. Descending into the depths of madness, outer garments of propriety envisioned by the Founders were discarded, revealing an ugly, bloated nakedness, a body covered in sores, overflowing with pus and dried blood. Unable to curb a voracious appetite, today’s America has begun devouring itself to satisfy the deadly parasites its body has bred and nurtured.

The store empty, to provide more free stuff America itself has become the last morsel. Tragically, the warm, savory blood and dung has proven to be a highly addictive mixture, even intoxicating, the end predictable, and sooner than you can imagine. Now a little surprise: from time to time, I’m going to enter the visual and interact with it… you are to come with me.

Okay, let’s step a little closer. Like a Third World entrails-divining shaman, what do they reveal? What can we learn? Putting an ear against the slimy, blood-soaked, rumbling gut, I hear… Yes, I hear voices, all kinds of voices. They are all saying the same thing: “I want mine.” I hear a majestic, resonant voice: “Why, it’s the President!” I hear, “Of course, Mr. President, you are and always will be first.” Listen… What’s that gurgling? Oh, it’s just a pocket of approaching gas. Yes, here comes Congress: “Take your pick as always, Mr. Congress, and, as always, here’s your pork.” Step up, step up everybody. There you are, Special Interest, in all your thousand and one shapes, forms and sizes. “Always plenty for you.” Uh oh, here comes a parade of turban-wearing potentates with smelly bungholes. “Here, here, take what you want. You want it? Take it, it’s yours, please be nice to me. I’m your friend, you know.” Now, here come the unwashed masses. “Relax, relax, don’t push, DON’T PUSH! There’s plenty of stuff for y’all.” Well, what do we have here? “No habla inglés? No problema, Señor. It’s called ‘free stuff.’ I provide the whole world with free stuff. Why would I leave you out? You vote, don’t you?”

Sadly, I step back and away from my hopelessly insane country, depressed, powerless to act, condemned, on death row, the hour draws near—we are having our last supper.

 Speaking of last suppers, let’s check out another visual that was obviously out of place when viewed 50 years ago. Comments were, “I don’t get it. What are you trying to say?” Some became a little angry as to how their country was being portrayed. Perfectly understandable. Of course they didn’t “get it”: the world depicted in these visuals was still a half century into their future.  

This visual portrayed a time in the future, when government spending and debt would overwhelm the American taxpayer. That time has arrived, the result of politicians who prostituted their stewardship for power and longevity. The National Debt is over $16 trillion and growing by trillions.

Now, what really is a Trillion?

But first, what really is a Billion? By Washington standards, a billion is chump change. Fifty billion here, a hundred billion there, is heard every night on the news. And a Million? I’m glad you asked. Joe Biden’s hotel bill for two nights was $1 million. Yes, two nights, $1 million. That is a million by Washington’s standards.

In the real world, what is a billion? Earth is 4.5 billion years old. The known Universe—moon, sun, planets, stars, and galaxies—a staggering 13.7 billion. Only in outer space can we understand the enormity of a Trillion.

The star Alpha Centarus is 4.3 trillion miles from earth. At this moment, if you dialed Alpha Centarus, our signal will be traveling at the speed of light, 186 thousand miles per second. Almost 10 years will have passed before we hear the operator say, “Hello, this is Alpha Centarus.”

Now consider this, space travelers. Government spending is (moving away) at $127,064 per second and has almost reached the speed of light. Unbelievably, over the PA system, we hear Cadet Hussein Obama demanding “More speed, Scotty.”  So, put the phone down, folks. A call to the star U.S. Debt—$16 trillion and accelerating—will never be answered.

Did I hear you say, “Now, you’re depressing me again. Surely Washington has a solution. Let’s hear it”?

Yes, they certainly do. America’s Third World Community Organizer proposes the solution: tax the rich. In fact, tax our way out of debt. That’s the solution—so simple only a Third World mind could grasp it.

Hey, kiddies, remember Aesop’s fable about the goose that laid one golden egg a day? The goose’s greedy master—let’s call him Master Obama—wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted them all, and he wanted them now. (I need to jump in here and tell you city folks something about a laying hen or goose. When it’s cut open, you’ll find hundreds of eggs in various stages of development. The majority are very small, some only the size of a pinhead, increasing slowly to one full sized egg ready for tomorrow’s breakfast. Now, back to the story.) He wanted them all and he wanted them now, so Obama the greedy master cut the goose open and, yes, that was the end of the goose that laid the golden egg.

Wanna see a modern version being played out in Washington? Then let’s draw near and have a few words with the goose. Hey, American taxpayer: you’re that goose… well, you were. Oh boy, are you covered with big fat bloodsucking ticks! They’re all crying, “More, more.” They want more blood, Goose. Hey, Goose, were you saving those nest eggs for your little gooses? Well, guess what? The ticks have cleaned them all out. Gosh, I hate to say this, Mr. Goose, but that glazed look in your eye says death is about to claim you. You’re about outta blood, aren’t you, Goose? Well, you lasted 200 years, Mr. Goose; that’s about a democracy’s lifespan. Then the ticks take over. They vote, you know.

Yes, the Goose will die silently, laying on a rumpled American Flag, a flag that is seen eroding into the barren landscape. See the cemetery on the horizon? It’s not that far away. See the sun is setting? Soon it will be night.

 Well, guess I depressed you again, I’ve saved the worst until last.  

Here’s another “I don’t get it” visual produced over 50 years ago of the United States 2013. In 1960, the United States was the most powerful, charitable, blessed-by-God nation that had ever existed in history, a nation that fought and decisively won two World Wars, weathering the Great Depression and the nation-altering Dust Bowl, in only 27 years. Uh oh, there’s that angry old white man again. He claims he did that!

As a mere teenager 100 years before, the United States knew how to kick ass and get things done, grew in size and wealth, went to church on Sunday, endured a lot, yet grew mighty and was fair to behold.

Then out of the cesspools came the despicable, liberal, progressive, career politicians. Some are unable to conceal a bitter hatred for America, yet spend their entire lives in high political offices. Rapidly they transformed this once great country, of one people, into two camps. They made the people slaves to Political Correctness in all its ugly forms. Guilt-ridden, Americans began to drink and bathe in their despicable snake oil. How did this happen in just 50 years?

They came with soothing words that tickled the ear. “My, my, boy, you look tired. Look at those rich people over there just sitting on their asses. Here, sit down. Have a beer. Here’s a cane. Here, drink: try some of our magic elixir called Spineless Slime. It’s very, very, relaxing. Now, why are you burdening yourself with all those old books, lad? Nobody reads that Constitution or Bible crap anymore. Here’s a nice new flat screen TV, on the house! Everything you need to know is right there in high definition. There you’ll see my reassuring face lecturing every night while you nap.”

Today, the mighty warrior of 1960 has become a dim-witted, toothless old fool, feeble and incontinent, his old wrinkled balls on display for all the world to see and marvel at. Look at him, lying there on his deathbed, so weak and impotent that he can’t even shoo off the roaches eating and defecating in his Post Toasties. What a sad end for a nation that once was respected by its allies and feared, yes, feared, by its enemies. Through the window, an approaching electrical storm can be seen that threatens to extinguish the room’s dim light, plunging it into eternal darkness.

The title, Prognosis, Grave, suggests a gravely ill patient. So let’s step up and ask a few questions. After all, we are all close kin. What is the reason for his illness? Who are his doctors? His death would be a terrible loss to all, but who will be the big loser?

To answer the first question, he was poisoned. See? Here’s the bottle. The label says “Liberal Progressive Media.” Heading the team of quacks attending the patient is America’s #1 specialist in death and castration. He hates the patient and wants him dead. His credentials are in question, but not his motives.

The patient’s death certificate was signed November 2012. This was America’s Nineveh moment. The old man might have been healed. Instead, hospice and death was chosen over therapy and possible recovery. In June 2008, President Barack Hussein Obama defiantly told a Christian nation, “What we once were, we’re no longer a Christian nation…” Insolently, he continued, “…a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Hindu nation, and a nation of nonbelievers.” Hey, God, that’s our leader speaking! Did you get the message? You’ve worn out your welcome around here. Now beat it, get lost, go!

Remember on the wall in the old man’s room that little banner trimmed in gold, you know the one, that said “God Bless America”? On election night, American voters responded with God Damn America. “Give us Barabbas!” they shouted. “Give us Barabbas!”—a shout once again heard in Heaven after 2,000 years. Never was a choice more clear, and America chose darkness over light.

Now for the final question: Who will be the big losers? They are your little ones. Now condemned to grope and die, not in their land their parents or grandparents enjoyed, a land of milk and honey, but in a land filled of ash, shards of glass, and bits of rags. That’s the land you left for them.

You have just seen three visuals that would not be realized until another 50 years had passed.  Do they accurately portray today’s America, the one you’ll see on tonight’s news? 

After a quick look at 9/11, our next stop will be an old-time carnival. It’ll be a fun time. There, you’ll be walking the midway with me.

In 1964, the very idea of a violent attack on NYC, killing thousands, was akin to the ravings of a lunatic. Try as you may with today’s mindset, you can’t begin to understand how utterly preposterous this idea was then. But on 9-11 it happened. 

Cascading down and over Manhattan’s stately skyline and into the picture are the instantly recognized eleven (11) signature notes from Chopin’s Funeral March. Eleven (11) is also the numeric symbol of disorder and disintegration.

Exiting at the bottom of the painting, these notes—now painted as skulls—sound a different melody, that of wailing sirens, as Manhattan’s skyscrapers are bent over by a massive explosion.

Above the circle of dancing demons, Man can be seen wandering, head down and aimless, through a dying world portrayed as a cemetery, often more interested in watching his dog defecate than events unfolding around him. Now, speaking of dogs… Dogs, man’s best friends, have always served as watchmen. Sometimes they bark, sometimes they do other things.

Manhattan in the early 1960s was beset by legions of partially clad little watchmen defecating and urinating nonstop on streets and sidewalks already awash in feces (Disorder & Disintegration). With each call of nature, they were sounding a warning—only this time they weren’t barking! In the foreground, two (2) dogs have trumpets protruding from their blow holes. Notice the human faces, watchmen, blowing the trumpets, sounding the warning. The trumpets’ sound rises and falls on the scale, imitating the sound of wailing sirens. Below them, a massive explosion pushes NYC’s skyline to the side. The symbolic significance of the number two (2) is division: light or darkness, perfection or disorder, good or evil. Good if the warning had been acknowledged… destruction and ruin when it was not.

In Biblical times, watchmen stood guard through the night on the city’s wall, trumpet at ready, to warn its people of approaching danger. If they didn’t heed the watchman’s warning, his hands would then be free of their blood. Manhattan’s dogs did their best to warn a sleeping city. Their manner may have been unorthodox, but what they were saying should have been obvious.

 This painting predicts a second major attack on NYC. Nothing newsworthy about that, except it was painted 49 years ago. Forty-nine years ago, this was considered, as I’ve already pointed out, just the ravings of a lunatic.

The undamaged Empire State Building and its neighbors resemble cemetery monuments, cold, lifeless, detached from the dimly lit background where confusion reigns. Human heads on dogs’ bodies snarl amongst overturned garbage cans. Law and order has ceased to exist. Headless chickens run in circles… Enough words: let the visual speak.

It indicates that this time it will not be a massive explosion on the order of 9/11, but what one would expect following detonation of a dirty bomb or an insidious chemical or biological attack.

Enough bad news already. Let’s go to the carnival. On the way, I’d like to tell you about a visual titled Portrait of a Fool, 1964. It warned that the United Nations would be instrumental in the destruction of America. If you want to visit your country’s gravesite, you’ll find it shown in the Paintings Page. 

The title states a fact. When given a choice, Man usually chooses darkness over light. Barrabas, a thief and murderer, was chosen over Yeshua Ha Mashiach, the Son of God, darkness over light. After 2,000 years, man has changed little. In this visual, we see the world portrayed as an old-time, pre-WWII traveling carnival. The first things one saw on entering the midway were huge, lighted canvas banners announcing what each show would feature. On a raised platform in front, the show’s performer would entice the crowd into buying a ticket. In this carnival, the #1 spot in the line of banners is the United Nations. A reasonable question would be, “Why has the United Nations received top billing?” After all, Russia is on everybody’s lips, not that insignificant little building over on the east side of Manhattan. Ah, yes, but that was 1962. These visuals looked to the future.

Now we are at the carnival. Time for a little fun. I’ll be your guide. Come, let’s get in line at the UN’s ticket booth. Hey! Where’s the white knight and his white horse about to save the world? You know, the one we saw on the banner. This looks like a con job, Bro.

Only the blind could be tricked into buying a ticket for this show. It has death written all over it. Look at that old cadaver clutching a dove, a wooden dove whirligig. Why, it’s as dead as he is, yet look: see how many have been sold to the crowd? Oh, it’s no wonder. See, they’re blind. See, eyeballs without pupils.

 Let’s step back for a moment… Would you look at that crowd. Why, it’s a stampede—if they only knew they were rushing blindly into eternal damnation. I wish they had eyes and could see.

I know we are supposed to be having fun at the carnival, but would you mind if I got on my soapbox for a second? Remember, I said the future is no mystery. The One World Government, the Anti Christ, and False Prophet were described in detail over 2,600 years ago. How is it possible to be blindsided? It’s not.

 At this time I rest my case. Can anyone come forward and say, “Hey, you got it wrong, this is not the America I live in, the one I saw on TV last night”?

My only answer to these people: Hey, I saw you on the carnival midway and you were blind and your ass was out flapping in the wind. Before the storm hits, maybe you can grope your way back to that Salvation Army fellow. Maybe he was pointing to a good eye doctor. Yes, I know you can’t see, but when you hear the accordion playing, you’re getting close. If you find him, you’ll forever call me your best friend… Good luck.

 “The future is no mystery. It’s just knowing where to look.”