Always offer your neighborhood firefighter a cup of tea!

. . . or a big glass of ice tea, depending on the circumstances.

by Richard L. Thornton, Architect & City Planner

The Master of Life taught me a lesson Monday night, in the form of a nasty thunderstorm, which blew down a dead oak tree on top of a power line, across the street from my house. It reminded me that 15 years ago, 12 employees of the Muscogee-Creek Nation were fired because they stood up to organized crime. We need to do more to show our appreciation to those public servants, who refuse to be part of the corruption that now extends all the way to the United States Supreme Court.

Even though it was still raining, the tree caught on fire. One of the really great aspects of my home is that even though the property is a large wooded tract on the crest of a mountain, I am only about a mile from a Dollar General, neighborhood pub and county emergency center. Our neighborhood firefighters are also licensed paramedics, which means that I am also only a couple minutes from help in a medical emergency . . . like when I was fried by lightning four years ago.

I was fixing supper, but went out in the rain, when a fire truck pulled in front of my house. It was only then that I realized that the tree was on fire. My internet had gone out, but the electric line had not snapped. A fireman explained that they couldn’t put water on the flames, because it would just make the fire worse. All they could do was keep the fire from spreading and watch it most of the night, until the tree burned up or the electric line broke. There was also the danger of the tree falling on a car, if the power line snapped.

Absolutely furious about the continued grotesque violations of my civil rights and personal life by fascists within the state, local and federal government law enforcement systems (will tell you why later) I should have logically shrugged my shoulders and gotten out of the cold rain now coming down. None of the other neighbors had even bothered to come outside to see what was going on.

For unknown reasons, I lapsed into the behavior patterns that I was raised to be like by my grandparents and mother. I spontaneously asked the fireman, if he would like something to eat or a cup of hot tea. His eyes lit up. He said that he had eaten dinner about an hour ago, but he would love a big cup of hot tea.

When I returned with the tea, he thanked me profusely then took a sip. He said it was the best tea that he had ever drunk. I told him that with this inflation, I couldn’t afford to eat at restaurants, but I did splurge on gourmet tea that bought in bulk from Amazon.com.

He then shocked me by saying, “Mr. Thornton, do you realize that our new station has been out here over a decade, but you are the first person who has ever offered us a cup of tea or coffee? Most people don’t even say thank you after we save somebody’s life.” I told him that I was just doing what was the norm back in the good ole days in Georgia, when people were “neighborly” and not so mean-spirited. He nodded in agreement and said “You’re right.”

The man was visibly shaken by what I thought was an insignificant act of being a good neighbor. He thanked me again profusely, when he brought back the cup, just before I was hitting the sack.

This was a lesson taught me by the Master of Life. Yes, vipers have gotten control of most of the Sunbelt State governments . . . poisoning our churches, worshiping guns as if they are Jesus and attempting to destroy our democratic way of life . . . but don’t be like them. That is what Satan wants. There are plenty of brave people out there, protecting citizens and saving lives, who are just as idealistic as ever. A cup of tea is a nice way to tell them thank you.

Background

The last straw for me was on my birthday Friday. Theoretically, I should have been a jackass with the firefighters, considering what has been going on the past five years. For the previous couple of weeks, state or federal? police, while monitoring every aspect of my life and based down the street, had been parading a succession of gay men, teenage boys, little kids, mentally retarded women and attractive young women past my door, hoping that I would do something that I could be arrested for. I have been working day and night on a big professional project, so hadn’t gone anywhere.

During the afternoon, I drove around the corner to our newly remodeled Dollar General grocery store! to get a few items. I returned home in about 15 minutes to find the doors locked, but my male dog stolen from inside the house and my computer tampered with.

Twice before. surveillance cameras had been stolen from inside the house, so I never could get proof of law enforcement and neighbors illegally entering my house. One time, the Georgia Mountain Drug Task Force did steal 84 collards and broccoli seedlings from inside the house, after surrounding my house for three weeks! However, an empty vegetable plant tray would not hold up in court. LOL

Despite repeatedly changing the locks, local cops had arranged to have new keys made whenever I was away for longer periods and had also given copied key to some neighbors, so they could patriotically join the fight against democracy and honesty. Later that afternoon, my dog escaped from a house down the street, where the owners had been promised that they could get a big reward from me as a payment for their loyalty to fascism. He’s okay, but stays within five feet of me now. LOL

The serial killer, who wasn’t

This was on top of just learning that at the behest of local detectives in the Habersham County Sheriff’s Department and some fascist employees of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, the FBI had launched a nationwide investigation a year ago, costing several hundred thousand dollars, trying to prove that I was a serial killer.

You would think that my intimate past experiences in national security and as a covert intelligence asset/key witness in a major Justice Department investigation in Virginia 30 years ago, plus being in a “biblical” relationship with a upper tier federal counter-intelligence agent for 15 years, someone would have checked me out personally first.

Oh no! Federal agents fanned the country, interviewing my relatives, all of my friends and girlfriends they could find from the past 50 years, plus even my room-mates at Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity at Georgia Tech 1967 to 1972.

Worse still, the feds took the lies from Georgia cops as the truth. They told a former Georgia Tech room-mate, living in Colorado, who I hadn’t seen in 25 years that I was in a long-term sexual relationship with some African-American man in Florida, who was a convicted child molester. I am not gay. My refusal to bow down and worship Donald Trump as the Messiah does not make me a pervert and I have not been in Florida since 1983.

The told my other room-mates, friends, ex-girlfriends and relatives that I was a bi-sexual woman hater and child molester, who showed signs of extreme anxiety from trying to conceal past horrific crimes. They sought their help in putting me behind bars to protect the public.

The Georgia Bureau of Investigation planted a very pretty female agent in my community for several months, who assignment was to entrap me and get evidence for a prosecution. She is pretty and did resemble my French soul-mate, Vivi, when we first met in 1990. However, she was no James Bond. I instantly recognized her. When she did not return a federal law enforcement recognition signal to me I notified Homeland Security, thinking that she was Mafia.

In desperation, the GBI planted her as a cashier at Betty’s Market, where I shop (at most) once a month. A federal National Security agent and went over to visit with her. She was wearing a microphone, amateurishly disguised as a necklace! LOL That would have gotten a bullet in her head with the major leagues, I played in while in Virginia. My companion posed as a tourist looking for a whole country ham and a wheel of ole time Cheddar cheese. Not knowing the local tourist attractions, she told him to go to Ingles Supermarket. LOL

The two crimes I did commit

Witness of GBI corruption: In 1999, while working on As-Built drawings of the historic Adairsville, GA Rail Depot, I observed two Georgia Bureau of Investigation agents trying to exhort Mayor Doyle Penson into switching from the Democratic to the Republican Party. Because I was in shorts and hiking shoes in the next room, they assumed that I was low-level city employee. They showed him a Photoshopped photo of him sitting at a restaurant table alone with the female City Clerk. They told him that if he didn’t change parties, they would give the photo to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Mayor Penson refused so they left in a huff . . . warning that he would be sorry. He never again ran for political office.

Afterward, Mayor Penson told me that for several years GBI agents had been transmitting large bribes to Georgia politicians, who agreed to change parties. He had been offered $50,000, but refused. Afterward, GBI agents began tailing and bugged his office under the pretense of a criminal investigation.

Interfering with private enterprise: In 2000, while tracing the flow of laundered drug profits to Southern politicians, my girlfriend Susan (yes, the same one from Virginia) learned that the State of Georgia planned to lease Etowah Mounds National Historic Landmark for a dollar a year to the number one individual contributor to the George W. Bush presidential campaign. He planned to convert the museum to a Cherokee museum, build a gated golf course community around the mounds and then a Cherokee gambling casino.

Not only had drug money flowed into Georgia, but the governor was under heavy pressure from the White House. All US Department of Interior, Army Corps of Engineers, Georgia State, and local Bartow County employees, who tried to stop the project had been fired.

Susan contacted officials at the Muscogee-Creek Nation, who were our last hope. Creek and Seminole law enforcement officers posed as Mexican Mestizo laborers, who didn’t understand English, in Cartersville, GA (location of Etowah Mounds) in order to gather criminal evidence. As I said above, there are still many public safety personnel, who are honest and dedicated. Enough dirty linen was gathered to pressure George Bush into removing support for the project. He could have faced impeachment or criminal charges for his staff.

Organized crime poured money into the 2008 MCN elections. George Tiger, the new Principal Chief, immediately fired all persons in the MCN Department of Justice, who had helped stopped the travesty at Etowah Mounds, including Judge Patrick Moore. No one brought them any hot tea. However, in 2020 was sent to federal prison on bribery charges, unrelated to Etowah Mounds.

Humor

In December 2005, Judge Patrick Moore. plus the Assistant Director of the MCN Lighthorse and an MCN staff attorney, stayed in Jasper, GA three days . . . visiting my home several times. This was the last Christmas that Susan and I spent together. Each time they came, Susan would hide in the bedroom and lock the door. Now Susan was definitely both brilliant and eccentric, but that sort of thing was really odd. She had just proposed to me! Why would should want to hide from my most important clients?

Afterward, she admitted being the one who tipped off the Oklahoma Creeks about Etowah Mounds. I now realize that she probably used her real name or another alias, when contacting the Creek officials as a federal counter-intelligence agent. This would have been quite embarrassing, when I introduced my girlfriend of 15 years with a different name and told them about her anointing me with holy oil in the middle of my pasture. Above is the last photo, I have of her, taken that Christmas.

Now you know!