As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
As I sit here in shwartzensturm, that is Echo for Black Storm by HAARP, in burning wood to keep warm while the people of luxury bask in their fiction, I have time to pray, contemplate and look at life. I’m currently surrounded by a wall of green beans in cans.
Now I am not stupid enough to buy canned green beans. The mother was absolutely addicted to this shit. She lusted for the worst kind in French cut. I mean you might as well eat grass as it is the same thing. She poisoned me regular as I stopped fighting it with green beans and cream of mushroom soup. My guts were assaulted by the mother’s cooking brews. She loves Crisco by the ladle and she left bones in soup, enough flour on meat to create bread dough……….that is why the old man eating that grease shit weighed over 300 pounds.
She never liked vegetables. I had to ask for them, unless it was green beans.
The reason I have this wall of green beans and of course refried beans, is JYG’s brother met an untimely end, and he was a prepper and he bought this shit. JYG did not want it, so he said, “Hey come on over and we will load out with the sled all these tons of things my brother had”.
So we did.
He said he found another box, but his old lady might have bitched him out about giving us stuff or his brother the hermit, but we did not get those beans. We did though get a wall of beans.
For me, I believe that Wormwood, a civil war, a time without lights and safety is a time when you just are not going to be having a good time. I know the last things I would want then, in being like toothache, appendicitis and of course canned green beans. I honestly would rather die if all I had to eat was canned green beans. It would just take the joy out of life. Those Cherokee that died on the Trail of Teardrops, probably died because all there was to eat was green beans.
Now I love pole beans, but that is where this fodder thing all ceases. I don’t get Jeff Rense and his vegan canned bean flavors as they all taste like dirt. I once thought it would be a meal to eat pork and beans from Van Kamps. I hit about 1/3rd down and the dirt flavor hit and I learned my lesson that packing along beans was not going to be a camping trip.
Kyle, the big guy who is our friend and a gun seller in volume, told me his sister and her family show up on Christmas and all they bring and eat is green bean casserole. He will have none of it. He and his parents bring along steaks and potatoes to eat.
Now I know what this casserole is as I have seen the crime. It is green beans by the multiple cans, some Campbells poison in cream of something by the volume and some kind of Lipton powder soup in a bag that is sprinkled on top. If I ate shit like that, my intestines would protest to all kinds of bleeding and problems as my sister cooked shit like that as did the mother.
Now, again, if I had fresh green beans, with the beans in them, and I made a lovely cream of chicken, as mushrooms taste like boogers or what I suspect boogers taste like, and I did some bread crumbs with a nice butter and roasted onion on top. I could eat that, not as a main meal, but that is what this should be, not this mother cutting corners and throwing slop at you to kill you.
I though have better things to do than waste an hour preparing green beans, when I could invest that hour in some kind of good food which was not green beans.
So I sit here contemplating the green beans. The chickens won’t eat them. Nothing will eat them, even maggots. They are just kind of here like the quart cans of refried beans. I suppose I could trade them to starving people for their sacks of gold and silver when the time comes, but I just do not think I could be that cruel. It simply would be better to shoot the people, take the tinsel and not torture them with green beans, and then have them go nuts and shoot each other.
I just peered into another box I sorted as checking the temperature on the pipes from burning wood and found Bush’s, Van Kamps and some white Canelli beans. There simply is nothing here to eat which would make a person want to survive another day.
I could not even give this stuff away as JYG found the only good natured sucker to haul this pile off as he would not even crush them for the metal in the cans, as he did not want the stuff around in his yard.
The only solace I get is I have food which no one will ever steal or ever want. So I’m imprisoned and held hostage by green beans and various other beans that keep appearing by design as this is some kind of bean police group that travels together.
I see the wood is about burned to coals so I can get away from this nightmare of beans and forget about them until tomorrow when they will be here again………looking at me, mocking me, knowing no one wants to eat them, and they will live forever.
I once read that when the last White man dies that a coyote will be howling over his grave as the survivor. I add to this in knowing that who will be laughing over the dead coyote are the cans of green beans.
Nuff Said
agtG
CLICK HERE to support the popular girl
