Standing Above the Latest Lies and Violence

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.

Everything I need to know about my detractors I learned on Ward Two West

Those who in their madness pray for storms, dream that storms will bring them peace. – Mikhail Lermontov​

​All men are essentially mad. They cannot even make a worm, but they create gods by the hundreds. – Michel de Montaigne​

Eddie Myers started hating me one morning right before his daily meds.

I hadn’t done anything to make him hate me, of course, besides once telling him to stop shouting at other patients in the day room. Usually, we got along well, no doubt because I was the only staff member to laugh at the poor kid’s dumb jokes and play cribbage with him. But none of that mattered, suddenly, the moment I became ​to him ​The Enemy.

​​“Never make friends with the patients” a Big Nurse Ratchet look alike had gloomily warned me when I began my job as a psych assistant on Ward Two West of the University of BC Psychiatric hospital.

“They’ll be your best buddy one minute and try killing you the next.”

Big Nurse knew what she was talking about. The first day I was on the job, she dropped her guard around an Involuntary just hauled before us by the cops, and after leaning close to the guy to smilingly ask him how he was doing, received his full fisted mercies and was quickly out cold on the floor of the nursing station.

Eddie had never delivered such a wallop in my direction, but his words were as sharp as a fish gutting knife the morning he turned on me, his one friend on staff.

“You’re a fucking faggot who’s been trying to get into my pants!” he declared, as I handed him his​ Thorazine.

My shocked expression didn’t faze Eddie, who yelled at the equally appalled nurse next to me,

“I seen you two fucking in the back! I’m gonna report you to my lawyer for trying to poison me ’cause I know what you’re up to in here!”

Then he tossed the pills away and spat in my face.

By the end of that week, Eddie had most of the other patients on the war​d ​lined up against me. Chronic paranoids do that sort of thing. The bigger members of his new ​”​Get Kevin​”​ cult were even threatening physical violence against me.

Big Nurse advised me not to take it personally, which was easy for her to say, of course, ensconced as she was by then in the safety of the back office. But I had to be out circulating every day with all the hate filled lunatics.

Some things never change.

I wasn’t especially surprised when the haters started in on me again this past month, with the usual self righteousness of the insane. But I have been somewhat bemused by the remarkable deja vu quality of the antics of Alfred Webre and Alex Hunter and the other Gong Show participants as they try so earnestly to shred me apart in public with nothing but fabrications, like some latter day Eddie Myers.

Eddie, of course, didn’t have a global blog radio program with which to lead his assault against me. His audience was limited to ​the​ dozen or so fellow denizens of Ward Two West. Alfred Webre has an advantage over Eddie in that sense, Al’s own neurosis notwithstanding. But Eddie at least made me laugh sometimes.

Being in the cross hairs of those who hate you without reason is pretty upsetting, at first, but only as long as you don’t understand what motivates their pointless hatred. And like my erstwhile buddies back on the Ward, this most recent cluster of “Kill Kevin” shriekers who have been gathered at no small expense to trash me on the internet all bear the same trait: an absolutely obsessed conviction that if only this one man – me – can be “exposed”, justice will prevail.

Just like Eddie.

Now, I’m sure there’s more to it than that. There’s obviously something besides group insanity at work when previously unconnected people are quickly gathered, briefed, and filmed to chant in unison the same script. There’s obvious money and organization behind the apparent spontaneous conviction of these oh-how-sincere “witnesses” to Kevin Annett’s “duplicity”. In fact, we know precisely from whom and where the money is coming.

Fear too is clearly at work. Alfred at least has been threatened. Only fear causes someone to completely and publicly contradict himself within a few days, and join a smash up campaign ​against me ​that he had just previously condemned. I for one would like him to explain what happened between December 9 and 14 to cause him to embark on his present deranged course. For he is clearly trying to prove his loyalty to someone by demonstrating his absolute disloyalty to me, and to the ITCCS.

But at the end of the day, none of it really matters, any more than it did back on the Ward. One must avoid too close a contact with the patients and their delusions, after all, just like Big Nurse warned me. For after awhile, their fantasies and obsessions can become ours, no matter what the loonies call themselves, and how much money is behind them.

As for what is prompting all of this​ latest nuttiness​: at the risk of banality, let me say that there is a method to their madness. Any lie, if repeated long enough by enough people, enters into group think and becomes the truth. What Alfred and the other ​ Chronics are doing is such basic psychological programming, with a simple aim: to discredit the ITCCS and its verdicts, and quickly​, while trying desperately to discover who runs the ITCCS, to eliminate them​.

Why​ such a desperate campaign now​? Because we have shown in practice that criminals in high office can be tried and convicted in common law courts; and that the authority of such rulers can thereby be nullified and replaced by we, the people, acting in our own name. That’s something no ruler can allow. But the why is even more specific.

The ITCCS discovered recently that the Vatican-Ndrangheta child trafficking network and its friends in the Canadian government – like Harper cabinet ​minister​ Denis Lebel – are making common cause with the Chinese government and its Triad criminal associates who control the pacific rim “human meat market”. And before the Chinese new year on February 19, top mob, church and government officials will be meeting in Vancouver to cement a deal.

The ITCCS was informed of this meeting on December 10​. That was​ right at the same time that Alfred Webre suddenly began his public tirade against us to derail the ITCCS and its upcoming Grand Jury in Vancouver: an inquiry into these crimes that is scheduled to convene on January 15. But I’ll leave the details of all this to an upcoming ITCCS Communique.

Everything does becomes clear, once you step away from the insane asylum and use the common sense and heart understanding that, like the common law itself, is nature’s gift to all free people. It’s time that all of us turn off the internet gossip and its toxicity, and resume our purpose of saving childrens’ lives by stopping the criminals who are torturing and killing them at this very moment.

As for me: frankly, I’ve had enough of lunatics.

From Child Killing to Union Busting: Business as Usual in the United Church of Canada by Kevin D. Annett

Janet McDonald (the United Church staffer) went into a rage … I asked if she was threatening us and she said, “I’ll do more than threaten you” and she came at me with a closed fist ready to strike me in the head. I suppose this is the Christian thing to do. She then grabbed our 10 x 10 shade tent and threw it out onto the road where it broke.

- striking CUPE union member, United Church Naramata Centre, Kelowna, September 28, 2014

The place bears what once was a fond memory for me: that sunny May afternoon at the Naramata Centre, back in 1990, when I was ordained into the ranks of complicity as a United Church clergyman. The place is really beautiful, as befits a hang out for comfy and chubby church goers: serene parkland on the shores of lovely Lake Okanagan, far away from aboriginal lawsuits, mass graves of brown kids and bad vibes. But things aren’t especially lovely these days for the union members who work at the Naramata Centre, who’ve been locked out by the officially “justice loving” United Church of Canada because of the latter’s desire to cut costs by contracting out their jobs.

Big surprise, really. Bud Phillips, the Principal of my old alma mater, the United Church-funded Vancouver School of Theology, once did a similar number when he sacked two long-serving secretaries at the school just to free up the bucks needed to renovate his private residence next door. The prerogatives of power, I suppose.

So when a union member at Naramata dropped me an email some weeks ago describing the attacks being made on them by the same United Church, I remember writing back in probably too glib a tone “hell, once a big corporation like them routinely slaughters Indian children and sells them off to rapists to make a buck, the sky’s the limit in their crime department!”

No surprise, indeed. The United Church seems to love unions outside their august body, but not inside it. In opposing a unionizing drive among their clergy during 2006, former United Church Moderator Jim Sinclair said to the press,

“Unions just aren’t a fit with us … Unions in the church would suggest a lack of faith and good will”.

Right, Jim. Like the kind of good will demonstrated by Janet “I’ll do more than threaten you” MacDonald up at Naramata?

In truth, the only thing that surprised me about this latest mask-slipping performance by the United Church is how their usually adept public relations team was not quickly on the scene in Naramata to gloss over their bullshit with their usual P.C. Verbiage and Lying Machine. After all, the church spin doctors were able to brilliantly conceal those thousands of slaughtered residential school kids with such aplomb that the UCC actually came out smelling like a bed of roses. Ergo, one would think that slam dunking a few pesky workers asking for their jobs would be relatively easy.

But here’s the thing: big churches are run by thick-skinned and snobby bureaucrats who aren’t used to being defied, and so overt protest and opposition tends to confuse them, at first. I learned that quickly, not only on my way down the disposal chute within the United Church, but at the head of church occupations and Vatican protests over the years. So the Gnomes of Etobicoke in their plush church offices must have just not got it when their workers out here in Lotus Land told them their jobs were more important than church plans to cut costs.

It doesn’t help the men and women who scrub the pots and tend the yards at the Naramata Centre when the government and courts have allowed the United Church and other “god corporations” to get away with crimes and treat their own employees like garbage. In 1994, it was proven in the Ontario Supreme Court that senior management at the United Church’s Fred Victor Mission in Toronto were firing staff without cause, dealing drugs, laundering money, ignoring the landlord-tenant act and threatening anyone who opened their mouth. But the judge threw out the case and even threatened the plaintiffs for “suing a religious body”. I suppose he was a dues paying church member.

Recent years, fortunately, have brought to light many of the church’s dirty secrets, and so with all that exposure of church wrong doing, the political climate may be shifting. The Labor Relations Board in B.C. recently agreed with CUPE, the union representing the Naramata workers, that the United Church is not bargaining in good faith. But ultimately, even such a ruling won’t guarantee those workers their jobs.

The latter have been making the same mistake I and countless aboriginal torture victims made by appealing to the erstwhile “conscience” and “religious sentiments” of United Church officials. The what? As a street buddy of mine so aptly puts it, “Morality to a bureaucrat is like a stop sign at the Indy 500”. Forget it, people. There’s but one thing the United Church honchos appreciate, and that’s a financial ledger. 50,000 dead children can’t be wrong.

But all that said, all is not lost for the handful of Naramata Centre workers who are dodging the cold, indifference and assaults by church officials to hold on to their livelihoods. The union is hoping to broaden their campaign by asking rank and file United Church members to “pressure” their leaders to put their justice-rhetoric into practice in their own backyard: always a costly and a risky proposition, of course, and no-one hates risk and controversy more than a Canadian christian.

In truth, what will bring the church to the bargaining table is not talk but a blow to their collection plate loot. Trust me, I know. So how about it, people? Why not imitate that original Galillean trouble maker and grab next week’s offerings from your local United Church and withhold them until justice flows down, even in the United Church of Canada?

It is a convicted criminal organization, after all.



The United Church of Canada is Insane, and other Spiritual Reflections by Kevin D. Annett

Author’s Warning: This is Not a Joke – Transgender Day of Remembrance is Proclaimed by Convicted Criminal Body

It’s one of those compensations of a moral universe that anyone who gets away with a crime eventually goes mad from doing so; and the bigger the atrocity, the crazier they become. Ask Idi Amin, Adolf Hitler, or Joe Stalin.

Or Gary Paterson.

Gary who?

Unless you’ve been avoiding the internet and television for the past few weeks, you can’t have missed Gary Paterson, the immoderate Moderator of the United (or was that Untied?) Church of Canada, who just announced that all good church members should honor transgender people in a special day of remembrance. Why? Because two such people were killed in Canada last year, ostensibly because of their sexual identity.

Since neither of these victims was aboriginal, gentle readers, fear not: this unusual gush of public empathy coming out of the church’s head office is not a sign that Paterson and company have changed their spots and begun to do justice to its own massive crop of little dead Indians. On the contrary: Gary Paterson’s latest grandstanding gesture is just one more deliberate and especially nauseating distraction from the fact that his church never has and never will atone for its mass murder of thousands of residential school children. Instead, well, let’s all remember, I don’t know, how about cross dressers?

Gary, you’re crazy. And so are all the other idiots in your General Council. But then living in Toronto can make anyone go soft in the head.

Of course, Gary, the signs of your mental collapse have been percolating for some years now. Remember that Sunday morning in 2008 when you started screaming at the small group of impoverished Indians who picketed your own St. Andrew’s Wesley United Church in Vancouver, asking for the return of the bones of their relatives that your church tortured to death and buried in secret? I recall that you yelled at the Indians to “get a life”.

A guilty conscience will blow our cool like that, Gary. I get that. For nobody who stays for long in your churches can avoid the stare of those countless little brown corpses without going nuts. Ask one of your fellow child traffickers in the so-called Twelve Mile Club, Archbishop Raymond Roussin. Poor Ray has a nervous breakdown after residential school survivors started occupying his Holy Rosary Cathedral around the same time they hit your own cozy church in the suburbs. I guess Ray couldn’t cope with all of those dead children as well as you’ve been able to, Gary.

Anyway, decency aside – and I learned long ago the pointlessness of arguing morality with a psychopath – one wonders why the collective absurdity calling itself the United Church is lending itself to such increasingly bizarre and membership-shrinking gestures as the latest stunt emanating from the twisted gray matter of Gary Paterson. Besides, solidarity with cross dressers is not exactly a slogan to win much credibility or kudos in any department. None of the trannies I’ve known have ever seemed that much in need of remembrance. Unlike slaughtered children.

But none of that seems to matter much down at United Church headquarters these days. Gary Paterson and company are much too busy gloating over how well they’ve outsmarted fate again, not noticing as their house of cards collapses all around them.

It’s all so familiar. I heard about this same drama, once, in a story shared with me when I was nine years old, in a United Church Sunday school class. Something about the search by God for even one honest soul who could redeem the condemned and fallen cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.