The escape of the political elites. A European midsummer nightmare. – Jan Bennink

This piece was adapted and translated into English, because i understand now, that the massive desertion of the political elite is not something beholden to the Netherlands.In England and Belgium we also see flocks of politicians, leaving the horror bus, just in time.

Do we ever get something for free in life, without a fight, a battle or even throwing a punch? Without the spilling of bathtubs of blood, rivers of sweat or buckets of tears? 

Do hijackers ever voluntarily leave the cockpit if their demands are not met? Did Adolf Hitler give up Berlin, purely because the Endsieg had become an impossible pipe dream? 

Doesn’t the leadership of a cult, such as the World Economic Forum, usually become ever more dangerous, precisely when their victory is in jeopardy and their “jeux” seem to be “faits”? 

May i remind you of Jim Jones’ People’s Temple in British Guiana, the bitter end of the Branch Davidians in Waco, The Sun Temple of Di Mambro and Jouret, and the crew of Marshall Applewhite’s spaceship?

Cults usually end in ashes and the stench of bodies.

How rare is it that people who have been seeking power for all of their miserable lives, suddenly surrender that power voluntarily?

Why wouldn’t the self proclaimed Nephilim, the new “human Gods and creators”, the WEF Noël Hararoïdes, drag us down with them, in their inevitable fall, now the wax melts away between their manicured fingers, because they chose to fly towards the sun? 

Are the scepters of dictators and tyrants, as a rule, not only wrung from of their icy hands?

Doesn’t this sudden and ongoing massive self-capitulation of the Dutch, British and Belgian ruling elites proceed much too smoothly?

These privileged passengers, usually so stoic and untouchable, seem to be in a remarkable hurry to leave their comfortable seats in the front of Rutte’s and Sunak’s busses, no aren’t they?

Aren’t the untouchables who are now en masse pressing the red exit button, usually cemented to their plushy seats?

Isn’t it much more realistic to assume that the drivers of these horror busses have hidden cluster bombs In the bagage compartment, that can no longer be defused.  

Wouldn’t so many first class passengers, rather prefer to see these bombs go off, from a safe distance?

In the Netherlands… 

Didn’t the biggest pension heist ever, get pushed through the senate, just in time?

Hasn’t the Nature Restoration Law, which is going to ruin even more farmers and businesses, not recently been passed?

Wasn’t the Dutch treasury not completely plundered? 

Aren’t countless billions of our tax euro’s being washed blood red in the sacrificial slaughter of innocent Ukrainian and Russian citizens and soldiers? 

Aren’t our borders not definitely opened to thousands and thousands of military aged men pouring in?

Hasn’t the law on public health not recently been adapted, giving the W.H.O. unlimited and overriding power in our country? 

Wasn’t the CBDC and Digital identity being pushed down our throats just in time?

Isn’t the Digital Services Act going to silence us digitally in August? 

Are they not pushing forward with the ban on “Ongehoord Nederland”, the only mainstream dissident voice in Dutch media?

These are all “bomblets” that are about to explode in their hands, ready to shred our country to pieces.

What is this strange parallel exodus of the political elites in England Belgium and The Netherlands all about?

This blatant massive Fahnenflucht?

Isn’t it evident that the ruling class decided to get out of the bus at the last stop before the terminus, so they can run for cover, staggering away on their lacquered shoes and red Louboutin heels, now that the fuse of the cluster bomb is still long. 

Wouldn’t it be logical for them to rather be at a safe distance from the millions of dozing passengers in the back of the bus, who are not allowed to get off, when the inevitable explosion comes and the shards of our countries rip through the clouds. 

Didn’t Rutte, the Dutch bus driver, the one with the eternal grin and the empty eyes, force this stopover, so the members of the ruling elite, who wanted to wash their hands in innocence or shied away from hardcore dictatorship, could pull the emergency brake and get off, to take an express train to well-deserved jobs in New York, Brussels, Bariloche or Davos?

Leaving us poor souls behind.

The innocent people, who are still silently sitting in the back of the bus leaning against the fogged up windows, dozing in their plastic chairs. 

How many of us still drink The Kool Aid? Consume their daily newspaper, staring at their IPhones? Comfortably numb. Ignorant and disinterested, on a road to nowhere, without the faintest idea of the gaping ravine the bus is being steered into?

And what about the driver himself? 

Will Rutte, as promised, crawl out from behind his large steering wheel, and retire?

Or was that just another boo boo?

The grimace on his face never lies, for whoever dares to read it. That grin does not portend a farewell, but the imminent closing of the bus doors and an acceleration towards a sinister unknown.

And anyone who dares to peer out of the window, sees flocks of birds chirping wildly and the beasts of the field running to the hills. 

And as the bus hurtles at an insane pace towards its very last stop, the sea retreats beyond the horizon. 

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