When I was nine years old, and I had just been ridiculed and reduced to tears by a crowd of bullies, my father said something to me that helped to dispel my pain a wee bit:
“That wasn’t about you, Kev. It was about them.”
Dad’s words have stayed with me whenever the latest thug starts in on me, and the worn-out lies and ridicule commence all over again. For the man who seeks what is right is beset on all sides by the wicked and the violent, say the Psalms. And so it will be until the end of our days.
Once again, at a critical moment, I am being publicly lied about and ridiculed – this time by someone named Alfred Webre. But none of what Alfred is saying about me is about me. It’s about him.
Alfred’s claims about me are not original lies, regardless of how convincing they seem. They’ve been said many times. They are lies fashioned by psychologists who know how to exploit your worries and fears, to turn you in whatever direction they want: towards Alfred today, towards me tomorrow, and over a cliff a week from now.
Alfred’s method isn’t original, either. I’ve come to call it the “Build Up and Smash Down From Within” tactic. Alfred is merely the latest effort from the same source, because he’s just repeating the same old script about me, which reduces to this: Kevin can’t be trusted. Yawn. The enemy is anything if not predictable, and banal.
Alfred hasn’t gone about his smash up of me very well. His “awakening” about me was too rapid and obviously staged, for one thing. He should learn that the next time he publicly trashes a former friend and associate (and I know he’s done this to others besides me), he should stretch out his “awakening” to encompass at least a few days. I mean, one day he was publicly singing my praises and nominating me as head Prosecutor for a European court inquiry into Trans humanism – and the next, I’d somehow become The Enemy who had to be exposed.
Any sober mind would ask in response to such a crazy flip flop, Okay, so who paid Alfred off?
You can read Alfred’s strange and stupid (and of course, unproven) accusations against me on his blog somewhere. Suddenly, and without once giving me the courtesy of talking to me before denouncing me to the world, Al has decided that I am a worse enemy than any child killing priest; and that absorbing our precious time with worry about me rates higher than stopping the actual crimes that, once upon a time, seemed to concern Al.
The poor guy’s dramatic shift happened during the evening of Sunday, December 14, to be exact. Alfred had just finished a public interview in which he referred to me as “one of the white hats”. By the next morning, I had become a black hat. So speculate away.
Maybe Alfred got a phone call, or a promise of even more money than he somehow received this past year when he and his wife Gerri moved from a modest home to a $4,800 per month mansion in Vancouver. Or maybe it’s true that Alfred, whose stutter, glassy eyes and inability to write very coherently despite his doctoral degrees is not the behavior of a stable guy, has in fact undergone some sort of mind control or trauma based alteration, as some have suggested.
Frankly, whatever the cause, it’s all irrelevant to me. I judge by deeds. And regardless of how he’s justifying his brutal public character assassination of me, Alfred’s actions are such that he might as well be working for the people who tonight will drug, rape and slaughter an innocent child somewhere.
Somewhere in the Bible, a Proverb I guess, it urges us not to place our trust in princes: in those who would seem to know better than us, who would lead us to the promised land, if you like. Once again, thanks to Alfred and his fall from himself, we’ve learned such a hard lesson. The “experts” and the “leaders” in whom we trust to explain everything to us, will always betray our hopes, because they are only human, and so vulnerable.
In the final analysis, what matters is who we fight for and what commands our thoughts every day and night. Will what you say and do be of any help to that child suffering and dying right now? That is the only issue, for me, and you, and Alfred Webre.
I refuse to engage in a mutual counter attack on Alfred, no matter what names he calls me and how much damage he is doing to our work to save children. For that is what I am supposed to do, according to the game being manipulated by unseen hands. Instead, I will look through the vapor Alfred has become to the real criminals, and where they will strike next. And I will be there to stop them, along with however many of you still retain enough of your own mind and heart to spot lies and step away from them, and stand where it counts: between the innocent and those who would destroy them.
I hope Alfred Webre comes to his senses and starts exposing who and what really needs to be uncovered. For if we can work together and stand together, even in our doubts and fears, and overcome ourselves and what has been done to us, and if we learn to face the little idiots behind the big mask who are laughing at our in-fighting and discord: well, those few who have divided and conquered us for so long will finally fall, and we will prevail and win.
But not before then.