Operation dog rescue -“MY” 10 dogs – In Memory of Ol’ Boy and every dog I have known

Whatever indifference, or cause of pain to our best friend committed by people, they are likely to do the same to human beings.

I have been hungry. I have been alone. I have had to fight. I have been homeless. I have been locked up. I have been rejected. I have lost someone I love. I know what these dogs have been going through.

Whenever I start getting an ounce of faith in humanity and decency, I’m bound to get disappointed. I just hope Shoe won’t ever get that experience again.



“Dog SHOE was saved from a villager. This man kept SHOE since the dog was 5 months old, tied in a chain, inside his house’ basement. Poor dog didn’t saw for years the day light, didn’t smell fresh air. When we rescued him, we noticed the “strange” walk – SHOE forgot how to walk on grass.

As devastating as his story sounds, SHOE is ready to move on and forget. Lately, he made promising steps forward and trust every person at the large shelter”

I just hope that you can forgive quicker than me boy. I wanted to send you a gift, but has been stopped by some bad people. It’s like when you were in the basement, hoping for a kind word, and a soft hand a long walk, play and a treat instead got a boot, and some rotten leftovers. But don’t worry. We’ve weathered storms before. And now, you are my cause. One of my causes. One of the many fates and tragedies that needs to be mended, and you can live out your lives the way it’s meant to be.

And then there is Nabi.


This is her story.

“Nabi means “Butterfly” in Korean. In order to give a name to hundreds of dogs that need to be advertised on the website www.sponsoradog.ro , dogs that keep coming and going into forever homes….we should use our imagination and be really inventive!

I called this white, female dog Nabi because I searched for a soft, inspirational name. To match the real story of her life:

Nabi was rescued from the steel plant surroundings, together with 2 other females dogs. They all had 3 bigger and 6 smaller babies. They made no trouble sharing the kennel space, from the very beginning. Actually, they made a habit to nurse their babies together.

Nabi is the weakest dog from all the three moms. She is overprotective and extra careful with all the babies, including those who are not hers.

Nabi and her puppies would have been most certainly dead by now, if she wouldn’t be rescued. In many ways, she lives now a totally different life than before.

There are many female dogs like Nabi across Romania. One of my greatest fears, as a human being, is to be powerless and couldn’t be able to help the ones I love.

Many moms like Nabi watch powerless how their babies die. Many of them lost their lives while trying, starving, to hunt something to keep them and their families alive.

Many got deadly injured in dogs’ fights, trying to protect their babies or were abused by heartless people.

There is something that makes Nabi story special: When rescued, she had a problem to one of her front legs. Usually, these types of problems represent a top priority for our team but in this case, we had to consider that Nobi is nursing the babies and if we tranquilize her, her role of “mother” must put on hold for a short while.

As always, ROLDA supporters were receptive to cover Nabi special needs, which included extra-protein, diet food, the leg’ surgery and post surgery treatment,the sterilization.

Nabi and her puppies reminds us how important the sterilization is. We should also think about thousands of dogs like Nabi that don’t get medical help, or food – they die nameless, hopeless and isolated, treated like garbage by an indifferent society.”


I was going to limit my 1st contribution to 10, but this little lady melted my heart. Beaten, battered, and having pups to protect is not an easy task for anyone, having to trust humans again is a chance to take. Somehow to let her know that there are someone who loves her and her pups, and want to make them feel safe and happy.

And then there is Marco. My child hood hero. Travelled half around the world, and wrote about it.

“MARCO was rescued from the Smardan, a village located nearby Galati and transformed into a “perfect place” to dump unwanted dogs (e.g. former pets abandoned by their owners).”

Dump a dog, just like you’re dumping a used dish washer, or old socks, right? Dumping little Marco is the same as dumping the legacy of Marco Polo.  In my world, this is sacrilege.

Or send him to the pound for euthanasia because of barking. As an Atheist (and Buddhist), I still may have some of that baby Jesus child like faith in me. That little boy who couldn’t stand injustice. Now, I’m still with the poor, the down trodden, and ostracized. I have walked down that path before, and see it and feel it every single day I can stand walking among humans, or get into tear mode watching rescued pooches get well again.

Not long ago, SVEN was a stray. I can only imagine how a stray life is.

I’d call him Tip. He reminds of a Collie I had as a best friend during my year as an exchange student on a one animal farm in fundie land Kansas by that name. Whenever, I had a rotten day at school, he’d always be there to make me feel better. When I was having knee issues after football season, and needed to rehabilitate, and start taking walks again, he’d follow my across the fields on the farm I lived on. He would guard over my jack rabbit catch when I went hunting. No animals, just the corn fields, and the farm dog my old buddy Tip and wild game by the creek.

It’s just sad SVEN doesn’t like cuddles or treats yet. It must have been something in his past and his endless days, weeks, months, even years as a stray not trusting anyone but yourself. I know there is a cuddly boy underneath there somewhere. He just need the right and willing person to show him how.

Gonco has his own YouTube clip as well.  Switch out the ‘C’ with a ‘z’, and you got Dr. Gonzo. One of my favorite American writers.

“GONCO was saved as a puppy. He grew up in our shelter and transformed into a wonderful, adoptable boy.GONCO’s dream is to be adopted by an active family, with kids.”

I may be a single veteran (from Bosnia 93) with a broken heart still in Belfast, but maybe Gonzo could mend that, and help me found a new family, including kids. Ah! A man can dream. Even the most cynical of us can dream. When you hear a whimper from some dump in the middle of the night from a dog, it’s the dog crying over a long lost love, or the dream of getting cozy and loved at least once in life.

BEAR means Bamse in Norwegian.

I am quoting Bears story from the site.

“Not long ago, BEAR was a stray. I can only imagine how a stray life is. We, humans, might feel stress about getting a better job or getting a loan to take a new car. These animals are stressed to survive day after day. To hunt for little food, to avoid imminent dangers. No wonder many of strays who get less and less contact with aggressive people are transformed into semi-wild animals.Our modern cities are for these dogs a jungle in which they are busy to survive. It is completely humans fault for these dogs presence on streets and somehow, it should be our responsibility to deal with them humanely.”

Who knows how long time he’s been out there? Has he ever felt the warmth and love from a family he can call his own? I do not know. Until they are groomed, and named, washed, and given food and medicine, most stray dogs might just seem to be a nuisance in traffic for most people it seems. And for some, they mean even less than that when promises broken have only been done by humans.

I would choose Bear due to his age. And rename him to his Norwegian name. As I am a traveler, now home, that travel bug might still kick in. In the meantime, I or someone could give this old boy some happy remaining days until he passes on. Imagine your grand parents being kicked out on the street after they are “productive” anymore.

VINCENT is just van Gogh for me.

It’s also a memory from my Belfast years as I came as close to family life as I have ever been.  Belfast Vincent was the son of an old girlfriend of mine at the same age when I met  him. I fell in love with them both during my first 6 months in Belfast working for Microsoft. Both he and his mom inspired me to write “Birds, the Bees & a Bottle of Whiskey” after a breakup. I miss them both.  Vincent seems to be the wee fella who can shred old dark clouds to pieces or perhaps spread some sunlight in someone’s life.. Whomever that lucky person might be. He certainly looks up for the task…


Seriously? Fluffy? Might as well call the little fella “Timmy”… or Tiny Tim

Somehow, I have always had a soft spot for both big and small, but definitely the “wild looking” dog. Fluffy are one of the many who needs a sponsor and ultimately a parent or two to look out for him.


Choosing between so many beautiful young ladies is as difficult as choosing one at a harem. She could whisper in my ears and charm the girls for me and do all the job while I will get a reason to smile and laugh everyday again. Ever heard of a happy writer without a companion?


It had to be a German Shepherd as last. First I ever remembered as a small child was a female German in one of my uncle’s family called Bianca.  Who better to understand a semi old fart and his problems than a chum his own age. It would be to reminiscence with an old pal you only just met and will have a friendship with until last breath and longer.

I will let Sarah Brightman call out their need, and thousands of more pending an unnecessary, painful and lonely death…


So! 40 quid per character was and still is my goal. All I have to do is to make my own “owners”, the company who was supposed to pay me for work done, and are now more aggressive than fighting dogs on a leash. Don’t worry fellas and lady. Something will come. I have gone through enough myself not to give up entirely on miracles.

All I have to do is to deal with some bad people. I have dealt with the kind before. I will still chase them and name them as long as they insist on acting on power and force.

There are plenty more doggies to choose from people! Something for every taste. As cute as pups in the store are, you will see something different in the eyes of a stray dog finding his or her home. I cannot understand it. Buying and selling dogs as if they were some commodity? It’s like selling babies on the open market!

Kicking out or abandoning your dog is like abandoning your own child, or breaking up with someone. Both have happened. So, dogs will also be kicked out and have a broken heart from our follies, selfishness and prone to cruelty and indifference.

And it disappoints me that a country calling itself “Christian” can do what it does to it’s dogs. Not surprising. But…Disappointing. It seems to me the Romanian people or at least its power and church are more interested in dressing up and worshipping idols than actually to walk the road given to them by their savior. Go to church on a Sunday. Join a rally on Monday. Get sacked on Tuesday. Kick a dog that same day…And blame the immigrants and Gypsies!

But I have a message to those people, Well, Johnny Cash has a message to those people…


To last, I have a challenge to the rich man who now calls himself Stian Stiansen.  Call yourself animal lover? When living off the hard work of others who pay their rent monthly, it’s easy to play “anthroposophy” when it’s peanuts and pocket change you put in your little hedge fund also called “Foundation”. It’s the rich mans way of washing away some guilt.

Now, read the whole thing again WITH the music!



Imagine… A stray dogs tale and last wish.

What it’s like living from day to day, struggling with getting something to eat, something to drink, while constantly fearing for your safety all alone. Imagine to have your whole world being taken away from you by a family you thought loved you, and suddenly find yourself in a place where dangers might lurk around the next corner. Getting something to eat have suddenly become an issue.

The dangers are many. Other dogs, human beings, traffic, diseases….

This is what has inspired me lately to not stay silent anymore and start talking again.

Your “crime” may that your owners kicked you out.

“I’m trying to do my best. You were my entire existence. I would have given my life for you. I let your kids drag my ears. Sit on me. All I wanted was a place to sleep, not having to worry about my next meal. Then I got sick. Tormented by my owner who no long cuddled if he ever did, but comes with lashes and punches. Now, I don’t know where I’m going. Some mean people threw rocks at me. The big cars are scary. I run. I panic. I meet bigger, meaner dogs having lived out here longer than me. I’m so tired and hungry. Where’s my bed? Why am I not home with mom and dad getting cuddled before bedtime about now?”

Many dogs who ends up on the street are there because their owners were cruel even before they kicked the little one out. Some of them have been living their entire life on the street without knowing what it is like to have a home. Some may have vague memories about thus, and cries about it in loneliness.

Most dogs die in a kennel, or outside somewhere no one can find them. Without having the chance to know what it’s like to fall asleep in your moms or dads arms, getting treats, long walks, cuddles, toys and tom foolery games with someone to love them and care for them.

This video made me all cry for the first time since I became “stray” myself.

You know how awful it is to be hungry, sick – and have nobody there to care for you? To have an itchy sensation spreading all over your body and can do nothing about it?

You cannot ask for help, as you don’t speak the human language – you can’t even cry loud your misery, as there is nobody there, near you to care!

All these sound horrible – It’s not something you’d wish for your family, or for anyone else you know. You and I both don’t want these awful things to happen in our community. Sadly, where I live, thousands of dogs are freezing during winter, or getting dehydrated during hot summer days. They suffer in misery, hungry, alone. Their bodies are often too weak to fight even minor infections.

Even after 3 days, I still have a lump in my throat<a href=”.


This is not a unique story. This drama, this tragedy is being played out on a daily basis while humans play politics, and capitalism in their lives. This dog had at least someone with him when he drew his last breath.

Some dogs make it. Most don’t.


Our ancestors bred dogs for help and companionship. Even some the most mass murdering monsters in history had a four legged pooch. So I wonder how anyone can just walk by and not give a damn about someone weaker than you, made for them treat their best friend this way?

I am not to answer this, since this would be a study in pathological psychopathy.

I am here to get others open their eyes as this clip and many others have opened mine. I guess I feel more like the downtrodden. Maybe some memories from my last ten years have started to catch up with me.

Sponsor a dog.  Help save a life!


I have found 10 dogs I will sponsor as soon as the proceeds from my latest translation comes in.  400 Euros of my 700 Euro payment will goThat is if Linguafield and Natalia Arriba will still have the privilege to call themselves human with an ounce od honor…

I will keep you posted on this! Because something went wrong, and now they are up in hysteria, and makes me worried about having to postpone to go through with sponsoring some wonderful dogs and perhaps adopt one. They are about to find out what it’s like to piss off  writer by screwing him!





What’s wrong with Greece?

If anyone thought that Ireland was in trouble, Greece is fucked. Weekly, there are demonstrations against austerity, termination of public jobs, cuts in salaries, raising taxes while more and more people resort to the streets as beggars and lottery ticket salesmen. Violence, attacks, Golden Dawn, and corrupt politicians and bankers exporting the country’s wealth one Euro at a time.

Golden Dawn MPs are blocking any attempt of making the shipping industry paying their fair share. While their foot soldiers are harassing street vendors for not being Greek. Multinational companies who use their employees and toss them away like old shoes if not everything is PG at all time, referring them to an unemploymence office who demand the impossible, while forcing the unemployed to go hungry for months before they receive a dime – a symbolic sum of 360 Euros a month.

If I wasn’t stuck here, broke, beaten, battered, robbed, and added insult to injury by an employer who seem to not take their responsibility seriously, I would perhaps enjoy the silence before the storm, getting my camera ready to cover the story, to take pictures of a country imploding by it’s own weight, and a public who lose their rights day by day to an increasingly cynical elite – read “job creators”….

I would continue to name names as I go, but one of my readers reacted to my last article, indicating that burning bridges is not a good idea.
Burning bridges?

I didn’t choose to write this story. I was forced to under difficult circumstances, getting an outlet of my frustrations.
And anyone who knows me, knows that it’s an equally bad idea to piss off a writer. Tread on me, and I bite. And I don’t take prisoners.

This Friday, there will be a 6th December demonstration in Exarchia. They will commemorate a police killing of a 15 year old kid back in 2008. I think I will bring my camera., and witness the forthcoming protest that will most surely end up in violence. as the previous years.




That is basically the story….


It would have been this easy, if not for a strong suspicion that Teleperformance sent a bunch of hooligans to stalk me in my neighborhood. The attack came so convenient.


And as soon as I got off my feet, I am met with a semi- psycho boss with the name talexopuolos on Teleperformance coming out to try to intimidate me AFTER he have sent out his bastard sons to hunt me down….

But believe me sonny!


Believe me Teleperformance!

You owe me!


You owe me as any soul destroying corporation MONEY for the part of my soul you have destroyed! Not only because you are a bubnch of liars, and brain washing scam artists, living, feeding off souls as vampires, because I surv9ived, and I’m coming after you!

Norton as a product might be as well as anything else. But Norton should be ashamed of wasting money int0o a company that just thorws out humawn beings after they think they habve been done with us.

But what the bosses at TP does not realize, is that we whom you kicked out, the ones who left you in the dark, we know secrets about you. Dirty secrets. Secrets that might get you investigated.

All of whom you have once pissed off, will come back to haunt you…. Anonymous Style…..

And for the record….

Claudia Uwe was the traitor who sold me out…


Good luck…..


Jon Fosse – Nobelprisen

For hva? Aldri har jeg lest av ham. Bare lest omkring ham. Han kalte seg engang Bjørneboes “dårlige elev”.
Alt kan tyde på dette. Mens den fetterte vestlandstorsken kan sove i hjemsøkte rom som har rommet flerfoldige forgjengere, og langt bedre kunstnere.
Den som får en ærestittel mens man er i live har ikke gjort ting helt riktig,
Om noen kan sende meg en bok av hobbybohemen, så skal jeg fortelle om dette var godt eller dårlig skrevet.
Om jeg kikker over på en eller annen internet side istedet for å galloppere gjennom hans linjer, så var han dessverre ikke verdt pengene, eller noen som helst slags pris. Bortsett fra at han har vært så politisk korrekt at de nyfrelste eks. drankerne i det Svenske Akademi går hele gjengen på valium og ambient og ikke tåler det forbaskede flerkulturelle miljøet som blomstrer opp rundt om i verden takket være ferdamenn, vandrere, unge eventyrere, og bastarder.
Hvis Jon Fosse kan klare med sine nobelrpis-vinnende linjer holde meg fouksert framfor å føle en fryktelig trang til å skrive over den blanke issen på mannen, ja… da er han god….og bortskjemt…
Et vidunderbarn som virker å ha en fordømt trygg tilværelse. Om han klarer å dikte opp alt der han sitter i Grotten, eller på en eller annen vestlandsholme, eller fjord, og klorer ned linjer som fortjener en pris som har blitt kvalmende politisk korrekt siden den ble opprettet, så lurer jeg fælt på hva establissementet har slikt imot ekte drukkenbolter, narkomane eventyrere, og multikulturelle oikofober siden de bestandig velger den mest kjedelige dikter til prisen gang på gang. I det minste hadde Hemingway skutt noen løver, skutt litt i krig, og når ha ikke klarer drikke seg ihjel, så plaffer han skallen av seg.
Fan heller! Hamsun skulle ha krepert før 1939!
Og Patrick Kavanagh skrev langt vittigere enn enn en nærsynt ugle fra Dublin som ville lære seg å skrive norsk av en ekte norsk drukkenbolt som ble nektet adgang til Bjørnssons juleselskap fordi han var en overfølsom drukkenbolt og dikter langt før han skrev Metope.
Når alt er sagt, så gleder jeg meg litt over at et forspist vestlandstroll har vunnet Nobelprisen.
Det er kanskje fordi jeg er høy som et fjell nå, og elsker å rive ned dukkene fra pidestallen, og kan muligens flagge litt mer med det norske flagget jeg ikke har båret siten mine første fjoner, og si:
“YES! I come from there! In fact, I grew up in his neighburhood! Who could have thought that someone who couldn’t find his on behind in bored daylight could write so boring that even the Jurassics at the Academy could relate from beyond their graves would find this troll from an inbred fjord would be a prize winner?”
Jeg gleder meg på Fosses vegne.
Og jeg ber så meget om unnsylding. Men hva pokker er minneverdig ved hans skriving?
Ligger det på nivå med Glassperlespillet? Eller Siddhartha? Eller Papillion?
Eller en spinnvill syretripp til Las Vegas mens verdens styggeste mann søkte gjenvalg ved hjelp av verdens nest styggeste mann og begikk forbrytelser for å oppnå det?
Hva harJon Fosse å stille opp med mot magisk realisme, og myteskapingen av bøker og diktere på bortgjemte plasser i Europas storbyer?
Norsk bonderomantikk?
Problematisering over for mye navlebeskuelse og dårlig selvtillit?
Det stemmer det!
Jeg har lest noe av Jon Fosse. Han skrev noe pubertilt om å være Jens Bjørneboe ulydig. Javisst har Fosse vært ulydig! Han har blitt husvarm hos borgerskapet og finessen som har inntatt Akkademiet.
Skolestilen han fikk brukt trykksverte på fra Dagbladet gav meg ikke mersmak til videre undersøkelse. jeg håper for literaturens skyld og Akkademiets skyld at mannen har blitt en bedre skribent siden dengang.
Hvis ikke vil historien få rett. De beste dikterne er de som lever videre gjennom århundrene fra munn til øre i nattemørket. De som får sine priser blir også ufarliggjort. De blir satt på pidestaller av dinosaurer og dermed kjapt avskrevet av en rebelsk ungdom som er lei at tomt prat, og vil ha romantikk i søpledyngen og en søpledynge rett ved siden av bingen.
Nei, gi meg heller en rappkjeftet drukkenbolt som enten kan se natten i egen seng med en kvinne han ikke husker eller en natt i spjeldet fordi han misforstod en politibil med et offentlig pissoar.
Så med disse forfyllede ord, ønsker jeg Jon Fosse lykke til med sin pris om han vant den, og sin sikrede plass i en bortgjemt bokreol, en støvete statue kun husket av de som gav ham prisen, og som nå for lengst har vandre saligheten.
Til neste år finner dere meg et sted i Asia. Eller Afrika. Nobelprisvinnere kan beholde sin grotte for seg selv. De kan gro mose der for alt jeg bryr meg om…Det beste hadde vært for litteraturen hadde vært om han ikke hadde vunnet den, og ikledd seg et palestinaskjerf og begynt å vanke på Blitz og Hausmania….

Morten Alme
Torsdag morgen 11.10.13

Greece Today

I met a Greek today. Who grew up in USA.

I was having a beer at one of those high priced cafe`s in Pireaus Centre. 5 Euros for a small bottle of Amstel is outrageous! But, I needed the place to stay connected and wired. Right next to me, and older fellow was struggling with his own laptop, and had another open to get the fix. I could have offered to help him out, but I was having my own issues with my own weapon which seemed to live its own life.

He’s been living back in here in Greece for the last 15 years. He still have his U.S. Passport. He votes in U.S. Elections. He calls himself Reagan republican. He taught me something valuable about Greece and Greek mentality of today. From politics to women. He sat at a cafè in Pireaus struggling with his laptop. We both agreed on one thing. Windows XP is ready to be scrapped.

I am astonished on how many mistakes our “elected leaders” must take before they realize that they have not only been wrong all along, but that they are corrupted as hell as well. This is what I was taught by the elderly Greek gentleman who have learned how to save pennys while being a Reagan republican in the Jewish community in New York City:

The Greeks today are still stuck in a time after the glory and insights of the old philosphers. There are no Greek politician of today who have the right to take any claim or legacy from either Socrates, Platon, Aristoteles nor Hippocrates the way they behave.

The Greeks are stuck in mindset just after Christianity killed Sokrates for good. Only Islamic Arabs saves Socrates for us free thinkers to be able to use later.

They are following the same track as the banksters want them. They are like puppy dogs on love with some Nigerian scammer, and refuse to let go, and demands that the people, the voters pay the bill!

I am off course paraphrasing, and making leading analogies here. But I think you get my drift. While they are prosecuting journalists, and protecting the tax evetaors whom STOLE money by not paying their fair share, they let the people pay the bill. Straight out:

The government demands paycuts for all, more taxes, and privatization of the Hipocratic Healthcare system, and the let the banksters go free. May I remind you all, that IMF is a private bank.

Which means, there are private owners and stock holders. Their only interest is profit. The corporations bottom line, is not a better society or a better world, but better profits.

And do you people really think that IMF is hanging around in different clubs than Goldman Sachs is hanging around in?

On top of it all, my Greek/American aquanitance could confirm to me that religion plays a huge role in society. Despite the fact that people do whatever they want any way, crossing their chests every time they pas a church the morning after being stoned the night before, the church as an institution rakes in like a vampire squid on both ends.

The Greek Orthodox Church is the biggest land owner in Hellas. They take in huge profits from this land every year. Yet they pay no taxes. From what I have been told, there are 50 000 priests in Hellas. And they take part in education as well.
In practice, they are being paid by the government as well! The richest and the oldest institution which is leeching off of the striking bus strikers backs are not only the banksters and the politicians they bought, but also the church! The representatives of the pot smoking hippie and batchelor Jesus whom demanded that all his followers must give up their wealth and pick up the cross, are getting enormously fat on the backs of sick people who soon will have to pay extra for their doctors visit, or to take their appendix!

I came here to Greece to get away from an island that seemed to become darker and darker for me. Here, it’s lighter. But more beggars. More filth. More junkies. Cheaper drugs. Healthier food. More chaotic. And a government which didn’t have the wisdom in how to handle legalization, so they put the hole bill on the shelve. They didn’t have the competence on how to adminstrate the whole shit. Many Greeks are growing home in their back yard. How to legalize something that everyone can grow? Pick out a seed from the bag you are buying from inland, Creete, or Albania, and grow it yourself! How the hell even think about enforcing something that even the bosses in mulitnational corporations are inhaling on a frequent basis?

This is “my government” of today. It is “mine”. I live here for now. I work. I pay my taxes with pride. And I expect that my National Insurance will count for something in case I need it instead if those money ending up in a Swiss bank account, because the people I cannot choose to run my daily life rather have me pay their bailout rather than putting the scammers in prison, I smoke my Ganja with GOOD consience.

How I get my weed, is another story.

I am not sure if you will believe me when Iwrite it. Sometimes even I cannot believe my connections. It’s almost comical. And very telling about how the Greek society is built up today.

I think I will need a few days on some island soon. When it becomes warmer. Maybe I’ll go to Cyprus. Maybe I’ll ask Norways richest man, the tax evading Nigeria oil pumping John Fredriksen on how it will feel like losing almost half his shit, thinking reality wouldn’t come back to bite his fat ass! Poetic justice would be if I saw him, shrunken in like a raisin, begging on the street, longing back to the Socialist System of Norway who would cradle him back on to his feet – no charge.

Anon message to FRP, the RW Fascist party of Norway….

Per Fugelli har rett om dere og DEG Per Sandberg!
Som reisende skribent ser jeg hvordan dere og deres stemmekveg oppfører dere. Dere er en skam for Norge, Nansens humanisme, elementære menneskerettigeter, og elementær anstendighet.
Dere er intet annet enn en flokk antidemokratiske, frihetshatende kryptofasicster som burde sparkes på hue og ræva ut av MITT land, og gjort plass til noen hundre tusen sigøynere istedet.
Det er DERES politikk som dehumaniserer Europass mest forfulgte folkegruppe. Og deres retorikk er så smålig at jeg blir kvalm!
Snakk om tilgrising av offentlige parker. Se på deres eget rasistiske stemmekveg som oppfører seg som herrefolk i Spania, hvor dere syter om innvandring, og regelrett ødelegger den spanske solkysten med deres forfyllede herrefolk mentalitet mens dere krever at folk som f.eks. foretrekker å bruke mildere nytelsesmidler direkte fra naturen skal behandles som kriminelle narkomane.
Skammer du deg ikke Per Sandberg over ditt hysteriske hykleri?
Hvordan klarte du å tiltuske deg lederskapet i justiskomiteen? I mine øyne er du ikke kvalifisert til noe annet enn søppeltømming, og holde din digre kjeft!
Som sagt, dere i FRP med link til høyreekstremistisk terrorismne en skam for Norge!
Jeg som utenlandsfarer, skribent, oversetter og IT mann skjemmes over dere som “nordmenn” hver gang dere sutrer i media hver gang dere får den rettmessige julingen dere har fortjent. Per Fugelli har vært snill med dere. Og hans sammenligning er ikke en tøddel for langt!
Men jeg benytter meg av min ytringsfrihet, og uangrende marijuanaerøyker til å gjøre det rette: å retorisk radbrekke dere, og vise til deres totale hykleri, og totalitære tendenser!
Dere får håpe på at dophuet Jens Stoltenberg får trumfet gjennom sin ytringsfrihetsbegrensing, slik at dere kan skånes for å radbrekkes u full offentlighet!
For dette er et angrep fra min side som vli havne på bloggen.
Og som de makthorene dere er, så bør dere FRYKTE den pennen jeg har kvasset kun for dere…..
Ha et like godt år som dere unner sigøynere i fattigdom, rusmisbrukeren i det spjueldet dere VIL påføre ham. Jeg unner dere den samme smerte dere gjennom drakonisk maktmiusbruk påfører andre!
“Gjør mot andre hva dere ønsker at andre skal gjøre mot dere”. OG dere ønsker tydeligvis å bli behandlet med samme inhumanitet som dere ønsker mot sigøynere, asylsøkere, hasjrøykere, og narkomane. Så lenge dere kan beholde smuglerspriten til å ødelegge de få resterende hjernecellene dere har igjen!
Som Bjørneboe og Knut Hamsun fan, så hadde de begge rett om sine landsmenn. Spesielt dere på ytterste høyre. Skjønt Hamsun var gammel. Han bedro sine tidlige verdier til fordel for det autoritære. Skjønt dere hører hjemme i samme autoritære søppelhaug.
Slike som dere burde holde dere unna makt og politikk, og heller dra hjem til bygda for å drikke dårlig hjemmebrent og knule sauer!
Liker dere ikke språlbruken?
Synd! Det betyr null niks for meg hva en flokk innavlede fjellgeiter synes.
No holds barred!

Dere bør frykte skribenter som har avslørt dere for det dere er: en flokk antiliberale kryptofascister som bør holdes LANGT unna makt….