#but Here have some excerpts to tide u over. for now.

[orcelito]

for the ITNL "Lying to strangers is Fun" moment

i shared the first line b4. but i enjoy his follow-up too sldkfjsldkjf

& for another moment of Vash Being Obnoxious

taken out of context. he kinda did deserve to be punched tho lmao but it's Meryl so it's not like she did much damage.

& then later,

yeah <3

[starofvelaris]

The Waiting Game Part II(ish)

I haven’t quite gotten around to finishing part II of my nessian fic, The Waiting Game, but here is an excerpt to tide you over and give y’all those nessian feels we’re all craving. -g

~

Her hair was soaked, her limbs shivering as she threw the sodden fur collar aside, stalking to the cabin hearth. She stood as close to the flames as she could stand, swaying slightly on her feet.

Cassian’s eyes followed her from the shadow of the kitchen were he waited. He noted her body trembling from the cold, her hair disheveled and escaping its leather strap and pins that had once kept it so perfectly contained in a neat crown of braids. He watched as she peeled away another layer of her clothing, her cloak and then her jacket. She loosened the ties of her billowy cream-colored shirt, exposing her collarbones to the heat of the fire.

“You’ve been drinking, I see?” Cassian muttered from behind her. “Found the camp tavern, evidently?”

Nesta spun around on wobbly footing, barely flinching at him, though he could tell she was surprised to find him there.

“Oh…it’s you,” she slurred, now removing a boot and soaked woolen sock. Not seeming to care that at this rate she would be nearly naked before Cassian had a chance to speak again. “Going to reprimand me?”

“Well, I would if I hadn’t already done that umpteen times,” Cassian said as he stepped towards the light of the hearth.

Nesta turned her back to him, kicking off her other boot and peeling her brown soft leather pants down her legs.

Cassian froze for a moment, but he could not act not surprised. He had done far more scandalous things whilst intoxicated than this.

“You know, there is a private room upstairs? With a larger fire?” he offered, tucking his wings behind him and crossing his arms before her.

“I don’t care,” Nesta said, keeping her back to him. “I am cold,”

“And drunk,” Cassian muttered.

“Judge me, I dare you,” she said hollowly.  “Remind me of all the things I should be happy darling Feyre and his royal highness, precious Rhysand have so graciously given me. How I should be grateful to you for bringing me here, to this shithole,”

He had never heard such poison in her voice, such bitterness. Or clarity, despite her drunkenness.

“I wasn’t going to reprimand you,” Cassian said softly, leaning against the old wooden table. She spun back around to survey him with those unearthly eyes.

“No? Then what?” Nesta said, lowering herself ungracefully, dropping down to her rear on the rough wooden floor.

“I was actually going to offer to drink with you,” he walked to the modest wooden cabinet on the side of the hearth, and opened it. He knocked one side and opened up a small, secret compartment. From inside he pulled an amber glass bottle.

“So you’re hiding the liquor from me, now?” Nesta gave a heartless laugh.

“No, this liquor has been hidden here for more years than I can count, long before you arrived here,” he closed and locked the compartment. “More centuries than I can count, come to think of it,”

Nesta’s face softened, in some kind of awe, which turned to confusion. “And how do you know about this?”

“This cabin used to be Rhysand’s mother’s home. And his home. And then mine,” he explained, stepping back over to her as he took a long sip from the bottle. He held it out towards her below him.

Nesta was silent. She did not take the bottle.

“I….I didn’t know,” she mumbled, looking at the floor. “You never said,”

“You never asked,” Cassian shrugged.

A flash of guilt overtook Nesta’s face, and she hugged her knees to her chest as she gazed into the flames. “How…did you come to live with her?”

“She took me in. I was just a boy….a bastard, as they called me. But to her, I was a son, and I will never be able to repay her for that, or all the other things she provided,”

“She was murdered,” Nesta said, though it was not a question. She took the bottle from him. Cassian did not know how much Feyre had told her sister of the horrors of how Rhys’s parents had died, but he could tell by the sadness on her face that she knew enough.

“What was it like?” she asked softly, taking a deep drink from the bottle finally.

“What?”

“Growing up here?” she passed the bottle back to him.

Cassian took a long sip of liquor, and lowered himself to sit beside her.

“It was hard.” He set the bottle down gently on the uneven wood floor between them. “Rhysand’s mother certainly made it easier for me than it would have been. I had a warm bed and meal to come home to because of his mother….but still, life in this village is not an easy one. Now with the right frame of mind, I have become grateful for it. I was given strength and a sense of self I’m not sure I would have otherwise,”

“A sense of self?” Nesta repeated, looking over to him, though her face was guarded.

“Being here gave me a purpose, eventually. Fighting shoulder to shoulder with my people.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

“The camps can be brutal in the best of times. It was difficult to watch my people be mistreated by our own leaders, and the females got the worst of it. So when Rhysand offered me a place by his side, in his inner circle, I knew it was time to move on for awhile, to see more of the world,”

“And leave them behind?” Nesta’s gaze was unyielding. There was no accusation in her voice, but Cassian bristled.

“I’ve worked countless hours negotiating with the commanders here, to let the females train if they so desire. Even compete in the Rite. Just because it’s from afar, doesn’t mean I’ve left them,” he tried to keep the derision from his voice.

They were quiet for a moment, only the sound of pattering rain on the roof. Nesta’s eyes were faraway, staring off into the dim lit corner of the room. Cassian watched the firelight cascade across the planes of her face.

“Tell me about the Rite,” she demanded in a low voice when she returned her attention to him. The ice of her suddenly lucid eyes startled him. He could almost feel his knees buckle beneath him where he sat.

“Well,” Cassian began, regaining his composure. “It’s an ancient tradition. All young Illyrian males compete. You begin deep in the Illyrian mountains, no weapons or supplies or barely even clothing allowed…once the signal is rung out, you must climb the sacred mountain and cross the boundary to the monolith, as fast as possible. Many live to touch the sacred stone. Many more do not,”

“They perish from the cold, the elements?”

“That, sometimes. But more often from the blows of their brothers,”

“You…kill one another?”

Cassian just nodded solemnly.

“Brutal,” she remarked. Cassian expected such a reaction, but he did not expect what she said next.

“And beautiful,”

He raised a brow and took another swig from the bottle. “You think so?”

Nesta leaned back so that she was nearly horizontal on the floor, resting her elbows behind her. “The world is cruel. Best to show that to your children while they are young. Teach them that you can only rely on yourself, that you cannot trust anyone but yourself. Best to learn that before they grow up and learn it the hard way,”

“And what exactly is the ‘hard way’ to learn life lessons?” Cassian asked with a smirk. “Surely there isn’t a harder way than the Rite?”

“Seems I found the a harder way,” Nesta muttered humorlessly.

Cassian regarded her for a moment as he slowly sipped the liquor again.

~ t o b e c o n t i n u e d ~

[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Sorry for the delay

No the story isn’t dead, and neither am I. I’ve just been away from home for a while that’s compromised my ability to get any writing done. But just to keep you tided over, I’ve provided an excerpt that should hopefully whet your appetite. Subject to change, of course. Enjoy!

------------

"Going for a run. Be back in about forty."

"Have fun. Don't fall down a manhole again!"

"Hmph."

The door closed shut as Erin left the apartment, leaving Mindy all by her lonesome as she lied on the couch in the living room, reading her mom's book. Interesting thing it was. It definitely helped to...contextualize a lot about what those girls in that lesbian nudist cult actually believed.

Mindy still couldn't believe what a mad coincidence it was. On the same weekend that she and her sister found out about the Zenrist religion, it would appear her mother had as well. First through text-messaging and then through online chat, she learned from Henrietta that the two older women had a formal meeting with the Zenrists, going so far as to enter their place of worship and speak with the head priestess. She didn't go into detail about what exactly they talked about or did in there, but the important thing was that Carol had developed a very keen interest in the religion. Enough to not only read through their tome rather extensively if her bookmark was anything to go by, but to even consider joining it. Mindy couldn't help but be a little concerned about that.

Oh, she didn't mind if her mother was going to be a nudist. The teen already knew she was. Carol had tried to be sneaky about it in the past, tried to hide the fact that she liked to roam around in the buff, but she couldn't fool Mindy. They had been living in this tiny little apartment for nearly a decade; keeping secrets of that caliber for that long would be difficult even for a ninja master. There would always be a door left ajar where you could see a nude woman prancing around, there would always be some lack of discretion in a phone call where someone would say something like "I'd be naked all the time if I could," or "Be at your place in 15. No clothes on of course," and there would always be a time where you would catch a naked adult crawling around desperately trying not to be seen by you like a skittish housecat.

No, the real issue Mindy was having was that if her mom was considering finding religion, then did that mean something was going on with her? Was she depressed? Lonely? Secretly dying? Henrietta didn't say. She just said Carol was seriously considering joining the religion because it would give her the freedom to be nude all she liked. And that she really liked being nude. Mindy wanted to take her word for it, but she couldn't be sure; Carol had been acting weird yesterday ever since Mindy and Erin got home. She seemed really sad somehow. Deflated, like someone was letting all the air out of her. She didn't eat much, hardly touched the Indian takeout they ordered, and seemed to always look to the side, or down at herself. And this was all after the cold way she threw Henrietta out of the house.

Erin didn't notice of course. She was too damn preoccupied with her own crap to pay any attention to her mother. But Mindy did, and it worried her. She didn't know what was going on, and from what she could tell, neither did Henrietta.

Speaking of which, it was probably high time they continued their conversation from last night. Picking up her phone, Mindy started writing her next text message. She would have preferred just talking to her mother's girlfriend, but she was at work right now, so she had to make do.

"are u sure mom was ok b4 yestrdy?"

A few moments passed. Then a reply popped up.

"Yes. Carol was happy day before. sed she was go ing 2 convert."

"Ready to convert? To Zenrism?" Mindy mused out loud. "What could possibly happen to change her mind? Was it when Erin said..."

Oh. Ohhhhhhh. That must've been why. That's what caused Mom to get so depressed. It seemed so obvious now. It was because of Erin. It was all her fault. Again. Seems that rotten twin sister of hers just had to find more ways to drag everyone else down with her.

"First thing when she gets back, we're gonna have a long conversation here," she said, standing up and marching purposely back to her room. She didn't know how she was going to take this issue on with her mother; the whole idea of her converting to a new religion was an odd one to her after all. But she did know how to handle Erin's deal: she had to make the girl come to terms with what she had done at Duny Beach.

As Mindy stepped into the room, she couldn't help but notice something odd. Her sister's sleeping clothes were strewn about on the floor, and her running clothes were gathered neatly on her bed on the lower bunk. Like she pulled them out, but forgot to put them on.

She didn't...

[blizzweirdo]

StarCraft Fanfiction: “No Omen, No Country’s Cause” Ch. 2

Here’s another short chapter from Stukov’s POV, setting up where he is and what he’s doing. The reference to Abathur’s whereabouts are a nod to the last SC novel in which Abathur and Zagara get crossways with each other. I assume Zagara eventually kicked him out. I’ve also filled in some background details about him and tried to reconcile that his obit says he has four children but doesn’t say anything about a wife. This is a short chapter, but the excerpts will get longer as the story progresses. Again, this story is also available on Wattpad, FanFiction.net, and Archive of Our Own under the same username. Stay tuned for another (this time a long one) chapter this weekend!

8 hours earlier. 

BRAXIS: 01:55 UST 

Stukov gazed from the bridge of the Aleksander onto the endless night of space. Below was Braxis; in the distance, Kerrigan's leviathan loomed like a small moon above the planet. From it he could hear the singing psionic howl of the zerg working in unison: adapting, evolving, spawning. He let the noise of his brood wash over him, eroding his sense of self. The Aleksander was empty and quiet except for the faint guttural noises of its infestation and the whir of the few electronic systems that still worked. It was almost 0200 hours by the ship’s clock, but he was still awake. He never slept now. He didn't need to. There were few human things he needed to do—or even wanted to—breathe (no loss there, he thought), eat (a waste of time; everything tastes like sawdust now anyway), and drink (I only miss drinking because I can’t anesthetize myself anymore). 

Ironically, it was the zerg that had made him start drinking so heavily in the first place. When the first ghost scouts returned with intel on the zerg and he was assigned to assessing them as a threat, his drinking had devolved into alcoholism, much to the dismay of his wife and family. He became estranged from them. Then he was dragged away to the Koprulu sector by his "friend" Gerard out of misplaced loyalty. Stukov thought Gerard knew how powerful the zerg were and how easily they could get out of hand. But now... Maybe it was for the best. I have achieved a clarity of thought I never thought possible. But not, he knew, without losing his family, his humanity, and his home.

The clarity was disfiguring. His recognized his thoughts were becoming more and more alien. He commanded the infested and his zerg more closely now, using Abathur (after Zagara finally banished him for his ideological differences) to enhance them. His zerg were more connected to him after Abathur’s machinations, bred to respond only to his commands. But the more they were connected to him, the more he felt like his thoughts were losing structure. Being Alexei Stukov was harder and harder. To him, it was like mentally treading water to keep his head above a roaring psionic sea. On his worst days, he gave in, but something animal—human and animal—would claw him back out of the tide of the Swarm. He fought against the Swarm now, clearing his thoughts, just to demonstrate to himself he still could. 

He thought of his ex-wife and children. Their faces were indistinct. A sadness washed over him. After being killed, raised, infested, de-infested, re-infested, incarcerated, liberated, and then finally exacting his revenge on his former captors, this is how, Stukov realized, his humanity would die—by degrees in a war of attrition with the Swarm. He couldn't remain with the Swarm and stay human; he couldn't go back to humanity and stay ahead of those who would inevitably hunt him. Stukov thought of the scene he had discovered on the Aleksander when he had found and salvaged it. His friend, his message, and his death. 

Maybe Gerard had the right idea. 

He heard the console beside him spin up before the alert on it even registered--a quirk of his zerg-modified hearing. The comm system registered an "official fleet communique" coming through. 

Impossible. 

Stukov checked the frequency and encryption. What he saw seemed to confirm what the comm system said: there was a UED ship nearby broadcasting on an official channel. Stukov was too stunned to react. His people were here in the Koprulu sector. The UED had returned. 

So, what happens now? He thought. If he had been fully human, he would go back immediately and report. But he wasn't. He of course feared their reaction. They would perhaps accept him if he added his brood to their fleet. But on the other hand, they might betray him and he'd end up home as an experiment in the labs he once ran. Or worse, they would execute him as a traitor and make a triumphant propaganda vid about it. Even if they did accept him, he couldn’t--or wouldn’t--help them. He had no country now, and he had more allies in the Koprulu sector than he did on Earth. While not helping the UED seemed traitorous, betraying his allies in this sector seemed like an equal measure of betrayal. In any case, he needed to find out if it was still their mission to eradicate the zerg. It’s better to know now before the noose is around my neck. 

With a few taps, he sent out the coded handshake sequence of the Aleksander but set it as an automated distress call. They would come expecting salvage and instead find him waiting. And then, maybe, he could gauge if he should speak with them—or find out if he needed to keep out of their way. 

[hmhteen]

HMH Teen Teaser: TIME BOMB by Joelle Charbonneau!

Tick…tick…tick…time is almost up before you new fave psychological thriller hits bookstores! If you loved ONE OF US IS LYING or THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS (and even THE BREAKFAST CLUB!) you will love this twisty turny thriller about a group of teens caught in their school when a bomb goes off. The problem? One of them is responsible. (Cue dramatic music here.)

Scroll down for an exclusive excerpt!

1:51 p. m .

“Don’t fight,” Cas said from the doorway that Frankie and Z had just disappeared through. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Can we turn the radio back on? Maybe they’ll tell us help is finally coming.”

Rashid clicked on the radio before heading over to help Tad. There was the buzz of static, then the announcer telling ev- eryone that the firefighters were making progress. The fire was contained to the west side, and they hoped to have it out soon.

“With one person of interest being questioned, authorities are now working to find another individual they have con- firmed is involved in this terrible bombing. A source confirms that the individual is one of the students trapped on the second floor of the school. With four bombs having already gone off, there appears to be one explosive device still inside the school that could detonate at any time.”

Another bomb was ready to go off, and the bomber was one of them.

Earlier   Tha t  Da y  .  . .

8:35  a.m. 

 D i a n a

 —  C h a p t e r  1  —

All you had to do was smile and wear the right clothes, and everyone would think you were special. If you appeared successful, people would automatically assume you were suc- cessful. Her parents believed that. Her father had built a career on it. They wanted her to believe it.

Diana hated that she did.

“Perception is everything, Diana,” her stepmother said so often that Diana wanted to scream. But screaming wasn’t pre- sentable. And, boy, did it make the wrong impression. This made screaming at the top of her lungs very tempting.

“Always take care to make the correct choice, Diana,” her stepmother said over and over again. “Everything you do is im- portant and reflects on your father and the positions he takes. And think about what your father’s opponents would claim if you don’t do well in school or become a leader in the activities you’re in. They’ll wonder how serious your father is about edu- cation if his own daughter doesn’t do well in school. The other side is always looking for a reason to point fingers and show that your father isn’t worthy of his position. That we aren’t worthy. So you can’t allow your grades or your attention to detail to slide, or you’ll hurt your father and, worse, you’ll hurt the work he’s trying to do.”

Diana looked down at the clothes she’d chosen for the day. After sixteen years, she knew exactly what details would be no- ticed and what people would think when they saw her.

Stylish white jeans. A tasteful pink top. But nothing too expensive, because that made people jealous. Nothing too tight, because that gave people the wrong idea. And no wrinkles. Wrinkles made people think you were lazy. No one trusts a per- son who is lazy. To get what you wanted in life, you must in- spire trust — even if you intended to break it.

Her father inspired trust with his perfectly tailored suits that were made less stuffy because he never wore a tie and al- ways left the collar open.

Folksy. Friendly. Everyone’s idea of the perfect dad and for- mer army-communications specialist who always puts his family and country first. At least that’s what people must have thought, because he got elected. He was working hard to make sure he got to keep his job for another term, and it was their family’s job — Diana’s job — to make sure she didn’t do anything wrong that could make voters question whether they wanted him back in office.

No pressure there.

“Katherine?” she yelled, knowing how much her stepmother hated raised voices. No response. She must have already gone downstairs. Dad would be in meetings already. Diana bit her lip as she reached for the gold studs Katherine gave her for her sixteenth birthday, then added the gold-cross necklace that had technically been from her father. She’d pretended not to notice when one of his aides handed him the box that he’d clearly been unaware of up until that moment.

“Little touches make all the difference,” Katherine insisted. “People notice the details.”

Yes, they did, Diana thought as she reached into her jewelry box and pulled out the ratty friendship bracelet she’d made for herself years ago, wishing she’d had someone to give it to and to get one in return from. No one ever assumed the popular girl needed to be given a gift. No one thought about whether the popular girl was lonely when she went home. Everyone as- sumed the popular girl had a million friends and a family who supported her.

Diana walked to her mirror and checked her makeup. Just enough to make her blue eyes look bigger. Nothing more, or people might question whether she was a good girl. And she was supposed to be a good girl. She ticked off her stepmother’s checklist one by one.

Good shoes. A nice home. Top grades.

Smart, respectable family tree. Perfect manners.

All signs of a strong, well-brought-up girl. A girl everyone claimed to know from school. One parents and teachers pointed to as an example to others. One who had been taught to calcu- late her appearance and demeanor down to the plain red color of her cell-phone case. One who was determined to use it all to show everyone that it was foolish to trust what someone wanted you to see.

Perfect.

And if she didn’t want to ruin her perfect image, Diana would have to get moving. Tardiness was not acceptable for a girl who was supposed to be without flaws. Tardiness implied a lack of respect for other people’s time.

Glancing at her watch, she shook her head and hurried downstairs to find her stepmother so she could get a ride to school for the yearbook meeting.

“Katherine?” she called.

No answer. Huh. Well, Katherine was probably in the back- yard making sure the staff had polished the patio furniture to a shine so that guests could be invited back to the house after the event tonight.

“Katherine?”

“Your mother went out.”

“What?” She turned and spotted her father standing next to the porch swing with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Since there was no point in correcting him about Katherine’s relation- ship to her, she simply asked, “Where?”

He put up a hand to quiet her. “Yes, I’m here, and yes, I understand there’s been some pushback, but I can’t step back from the bill, or I’ll get hammered. The press will smell blood and it’ll be over, and we all know I’m right on this. I just need one thing to tip in my favor. You have to trust me on this.”

Diana started to speak again, but before she could get a word out, her father turned his back and nodded. She would have to get in line for his attention.

“Yes. I’ll make that distinction tonight, and don’t worry. The event will be the perfect place to highlight the positive points in the bill and to take charge of the conversation. If you have other things you want to talk about, I’ll be at the office in a half-hour. Good speaking with you, too, Tim. I appreciate your dedication. We’re going to turn things around.” Finally he hung up and turned toward her.

He was wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a red polo shirt under a deep blue sports coat — relaxed authority was what her stepmother called the look. But despite the clothes, Diana didn’t think her father appeared relaxed.

“That was Tim?”

Her father nodded. “He’s worried about the negative press my Safety Through Education bill is getting.”

Tim hadn’t been on her father’s staff as long as the oth- ers, but he was smart and perceptive, which is why her father’s chief of staff hired him right out of graduate school. And even though he was younger than the rest of the staff, Diana knew Tim was right to be worried about her father’s bill. The press was calling it an invasion of privacy. The law would require that students and teachers inform the administration if they thought someone in the school might be interested in doing harm to students, teachers, or school property. Any students reported would then have to hand over their passwords to social media and email accounts or face suspension and a potential inves- tigation by federal authorities. Those who didn’t report suspi- cions before a harmful event could be charged with aiding and abetting.

Her father believed the law would turn everything in the country around and would finally do what no other laws had been able to do — make things safer. Any students interested in causing trouble would think twice about it if they knew their friends and teachers were watching them and ready to act on any suspicious activity. And by catching and circumventing threatening behavior early, there was a good chance of diverting those students toward a more positive path. Her father was cer- tain that taking action in the schools and the education system was the best way of changing the escalating pattern of violence in the country.

“Was there another bad story in the press?” Diana asked. Not everyone agreed with her father’s thoughts on how to keep the country safe. Since the unveiling of the bill, there had been phone calls and mail and huge editorials about invasion of pri- vacy and people’s differing definitions of what a “threat” to society actually was. Diana had even gotten hate mail for her father’s idea. When she had tried to talk to her father about it, he had just told her to give the mail to Tim and ignore it. That everything would work out. But when Tim had sat with her and listened to her talk about the threats she’d gotten and how people made a point of telling her they were going to vote her father out of office, Tim had admitted the backlash was concerning. If the tide of bad press and angry editorials about the potential law continued, they both agreed that it would be sunk before it ever had a chance to be tested. And her father’s career — one she had been told was necessary to make the world better — would be sunk along with it.

Was it any wonder Tim wanted to pull out all the stops to make sure her father’s event tonight got the press’s attention, or that she was willing to do whatever it took to help? It was nice to have someone finally realize that she was capable of helping, and to finally listen to her when she had an idea. And Tim had said he was glad he could run ideas by someone without having to worry about her telling the senator that his ideas were too radical or that he wasn’t up to the job.

Her father shrugged and gave her his own practiced smile. “Some of my co-sponsors are wondering if we should shelve the idea for more study, but Tim has some polling that says retreat- ing might do more harm than good. I’m not worried. Tim and the others have a plan to make this all come together.”

“If you need me —”

Her father held up his hand as the phone rang. The phone was always ringing. “I’ll catch this on my way to the office.” He looked at Diana and gave her a tense smile. “Your mother left a note for you on the counter. You can help by making sure you’re ready when she comes to pick you up. I need everything to be perfect if we’re going to turn this around.” Then, before she could say anything, her father put the phone to his ear and said, “Larry, I’m glad you called …” as he disappeared into the house.

Diana hurried after him, but he didn’t bother to look back. A minute later, Diana heard the front door slam behind him as he left before she could remind him that she needed a ride. And when she read her stepmother’s note, she knew she wasn’t going to get one from her, either.

Diana dear,

I’ll be home to pick you up at four. Wear the

blue satin dress hanging in your closet and leave

your hair down. Please be on time. Tonight is very

important to all of us.

Katherine

She stared at the letter.

Be on time.

Leave your hair down. Tonight is important.

But, clearly, driving Diana to school today was not.

She turned the bracelet on her arm again, looked at her stepmother’s words one more time, hearing each of them ring- ing in her head along with all the other things she’d said over the years.

“Keep your opinions to yourself, Diana.” Because they might differ from what she was supposed to think. And that wasn’t allowed.

“Remember that we’re counting on you.” Yes. They were.

Diana headed back upstairs to the antique toy chest in the corner of her room. Quickly, she dumped the decorative pillows and extra blanket stacked on top onto the floor, then lifted the lid. She pulled out two bags. In the side pocket of one of the bags, she found the list she’d made for herself a few weeks ago and put it in her pocket.

A quick glance at the clock told her she’d better get going or she’d be late for the yearbook meeting. Yesterday she’d moved the meeting to two hours earlier than originally scheduled. She doubted anyone would be thrilled that she’d asked them to change their plans simply to make them wait.

Diana turned, took one last look in the mirror and saw what her family wanted her to be. What she had tried so hard to pretend to be.

Perfect. Someone everyone expected to do the right thing and no one would ever suspect of doing something wrong.

Good.

Booting up her computer, she sent a quick message to Tim, telling him that she was going to school now. Then Diana care- fully picked up her bags and headed downstairs and out the door. Her father thought the only contribution he needed from her was for her to nod and smile and look flawless — like their family was supposed to be. She was determined to prove him wrong.

   9:52  a.m.

R a s h i d

—  C h a p t e r  2  —

“Why do you have to go to the school today?” his father asked, coming into the kitchen. Rashid had hoped to get out of the house before his father had gotten home from the hospital. So much for that idea. “Your classes do not start for another week.”

Rashid hefted the bag he had slung over his shoulder and explained, “I need a new school ID, Father.”

“What happened to your old one?” His father looked at him with a frown.

“I lost it when  we were visiting with  Sitto last month.” Technically, that was true. Although Rashid knew his words implied that he accidentally left his ID behind at his grand- mother’s in Palestine. “The office is open for new students to get IDs. I thought I should do it now instead of waiting until school starts.”

His father nodded, then glanced at the kitchen clock. “Will you be back by the start of Dhuhr?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I can call and see if the office will be open during the af- ternoon. If you wait, we can pray together, and then maybe you can take your sister. It would be good for her to see the school without so many people. It’ll help her get used to the idea of going there next year. You could introduce her to some of your friends.”

His sister already knew most of his friends, since they either lived nearby or went to mosque together. The others …

His father thought he understood what it was like for Rashid at school, but he had no idea. He didn’t listen. Or maybe Rashid’s cousins in Palestine were right, and it was Rashid’s fault he didn’t completely fit in, because he did not know who he was or what he wanted.

A few years ago, he would have brought his sister with him to school. But that was then. Now … so much had changed. He was different. His sister certainly was, and his friends … They all still enjoyed the comics and building robots, which held their friendships together. But Rashid could tell there were other things — like the facial hair that he had started growing earlier than anyone else in his class, and the adherence to his faith that prevented him from shaving it — that were creating an invisible wall between them.

He bit back the anger that seemed harder and harder to keep hidden and respectfully said, “Next time. I don’t know who will be there, and I don’t want her to have a bad experience.”

It was hard enough for Rashid to fit in, especially now. He didn’t want to bring Arissa. The hijab made her stand out even more than his untrimmed beard did. But Arissa didn’t seem to mind wearing it. More than once, she said that she liked the attention the hijab brought, and it helped her know exactly who her friends were. The hijab signaled who she was and that she was proud of her heritage. She said if people didn’t like it, they could just get out of her way.

Rashid wondered if it wasn’t easier for her because the hi- jab was so obvious and its meaning so clear. Since some of the other students chose to grow beards and mustaches, his own beard was sometimes interpreted as a personal choice instead of a mandate of faith. But it often raised questions he could see in people’s eyes that never got spoken aloud — not even by his friends. If he had been braver, he might just have sat down and talked to his friends about it and helped them understand. Instead, he let the silences get longer.

Now he felt he had only one option open to him.

“I should probably go now so I don’t have to stand in line all day,” Rashid said, feeling the weight of the bag pulling on his shoulder. “I will pray at school.” There were plenty of empty classrooms. Since it wasn’t a school day, he wouldn’t have to worry about people making fun of him washing in the bathroom first. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

His father smiled. “No need to rush. If you see people you know, you should spend time with them. You haven’t had the chance to see any of your friends this summer. The best life has balance. Maybe while you’re at school, you can see if there are any new clubs you’d like to join, although I still think you should take photos for the yearbook. The pictures you took this summer are very good.”

“I’ll look into it,” Rashid said, knowing he wouldn’t. He had other things to do. He just hoped his father would be able to understand.

“Good.” His father patted him on the arm and frowned. “Why are you taking your school bag?”

Rashid smiled to hide his nerves. “I’m bringing some note- books and comic books and a couple of other things to put in my locker so I don’t have to bring everything on the first day. I like having stuff to read in study hall.”

He also read when his friends were late for lunch, to avoid drawing the attention of some of the football players, who liked to harass him.

“Using extra time for study is always good.” His father pat- ted him on the arm again. “Do you have your Koran?”

“No,” Rashid said, shifting toward the door. “I’m leaving it here. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait a second.” His father disappeared out of the kitchen and returned holding a thick paperback that Rashid had no choice but to take. “You might be glad to have it at school with you.”

Rashid forced himself to thank his father, but he couldn’t meet his eyes as he walked out the door. He put the book in the bag and headed to school, still trying to decide if he was going to go through with his plan.

Was this really the time to draw the line in the sand?

He thought about the names he’d  been called last year and how uncomfortable his non-Muslim friends looked when they pretended that they were all the same. That nothing had changed.

He wished nothing had changed. More than anything, he wanted to turn back the clock to before the beard and the sus- picion it brought into focus. Things had already been hard then, but they had been better.

Hitching the bag so that the weight was better distributed, Rashid frowned and started walking faster. If he was going to change things, he had to do it today. He only hoped that he had the courage to do what needed to be done.

9:58  a.m.

Z

— C h a p t e r 3 —

“You’re Kicking me out?” Sweat pricked Z’s back and forehead. He should have had two more months. His mother had said they’d agreed. And now he was getting screwed.

Z turned his back on the landlord’s son. He couldn’t look at the satisfied smile on the jerk’s pimply face without wanting to deck the guy. Z felt like hitting something — everything.

“Not exactly,” Nick said. “I mean, I know my dad and your mom talked about trying to lower the rent over the sum- mer to help you out, but my dad realized that if he changed the terms of the lease for you, he’d have to do it for everyone, and you know how that goes. It’s not like my father wants to do this.”

Sure he does, Z thought. He just doesn’t want to say he wants to boot the guy who’s just lost his mother to cancer. That would make him have to admit he’s a crappy person. But that’s what he was. All Nick’s father knew was that a guaranteed rent check was dead and buried. It was time to find a new one, and to hell with anything else. Yeah — Z knew exactly how that went. 

“I’m sure this is breaking your father’s heart.” Z clenched his fists and looked out the narrow window over the sink. If he closed his eyes, he could still see his mother standing there, washing dishes … when she had been well enough to do some- thing that normal.

“Hey, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Z turned and stared at the guy. Nick straight- ened his shoulders but took a step back, tugging at the hem of his dirty T-shirt. “Your father made a promise to my dying mom, and two weeks after she’s gone, he sends you to tell me he was just kidding.”

Nick took another step back and swallowed hard. “He’s re- ally sorry about this.”

“Sure he is.” Everyone was sorry. Z was so tired of hearing everyone tell him how damn sorry they were. Only they weren’t. But they would be. Soon. Very soon. Z unclenched his fists and turned back toward the off-white fridge that his mother had plastered with photographs. “Tell your dad not to beat himself up about it. It’s no problem, Nicky,” he added, yanking open the fridge. The cool air washed over him, helping to tamp down the anger he wanted to let break free. Despite the open windows, the apartment was sweltering.

“Hey, kid, if it was up to me, I would let you stay. I know things are tough. After everything that happened, this really sucks, but —”

“It’s fine,” Z said, grabbing a bottle of tap water out of the fridge. It wasn’t fine. There was nothing fine about being told by a twenty-seven-year-old guy who lived in his parents’ basement and had Cheetos stains on his T-shirt that you had to clear out in three weeks. Adios, boy. Don’t let the door hit your long-haired, tattooed self on the way out.

“Look, my father would like to be able to let you stay. He really liked your mom. She was a nice lady.”

“Yeah.” Z closed the fridge and looked at the photo of his mother’s happy, healthy face pressed next to his five-year-old chocolate-coated one. “She was great.”

Was.

He swallowed hard while, behind him, Nick Mansanelli said, “I could talk to my dad about having you do some work on our cars in exchange for staying in their attic. It’s not the best place, but it would give you some time to sort out whatever it is you’re going to do next. I’m sure you could use the —”

“No need.” Z would rather sleep in a ditch than become slave labor for anyone. He uncapped the cold water and took a drink. “Tell your dad pretty soon he won’t have to worry about dealing with me ever again.”

Nick took another step back and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he looked around.  “Can I …  you know … help you do anything? Do you need some boxes or tape?” Nick turned toward the living room and nodded. “You got a lot of stuff to pack up around here. Why don’t I —”

“No.” Before Nick could step into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, Z stalked forward and blocked him. “I don’t need your help.” Z didn’t need anyone.

Nick frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s no prob —”

“I’m sure,” Z said as the phone in his back pocket chimed. He pulled it out and looked down at the display.

YOU OK? DID YOU HEAR FROM YOUR UNCLE IN CALIFORNIA? I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU. PLEASE TALK TO ME.

Kaitlin.

Of all the people who said they wanted to help, she actually did. But there wasn’t much more she could do or say. She kept telling him it was okay to be angry. That it would get better if he just gave it time. They all warned him about making deci- sions too fast. Urged him to give the relatives he barely remem- bered a chance to reach out. He had to give things time.

But time wasn’t going to change the fact that his mother was dead and that everything sucked.

Kaitlin had been there for him when everyone else had bailed. Extended family. Neighbors. Teachers. He’d tried to tell her to get lost when she followed him out of the school after he’d been in detention. But she dogged him all the way to the parking lot and insisted he give her a ride home. Her mother was a nurse at the hospital where his mother got treatments. It wasn’t as if he was going to say no, but that didn’t mean he was going to talk to her. Which was probably what Kaitlin wanted, since she had plenty to say. Kaitlin had been determined to be his friend, even when he didn’t want her to be. Even when he  cut school more than he bothered to go. If it hadn’t been for her, he wasn’t sure he would have made it this far.

And now he was going to cut her loose before he dragged her down. She deserved better.

Z shoved the phone into his pocket and looked back at Nick. “Look,” Z said with a deliberate sigh. “If that’s all you came here for, I’ve got to get going. There’s a teacher I have to talk to

at school, and I don’t want to miss him.”

Nick slapped Z on the shoulder. The universal sign for I want you to think I’ve got your back, even though I plan on screw- ing you the first chance I get. “Hey, no problem. I just came by to see how you were doing and make sure you didn’t need any- thing before —”

Before you chucked me to the curb. Z again clenched his hands into fists at his side, and Nick backed up a step.

Finally, the guy turned toward the front door and said, “Hey, make sure to take care of yourself. And give them hell at that school. I never liked it much anyway.”

At last, one thing they could agree on.

Z chugged the water, then headed down the hall toward his room to grab his father’s old army duffle and the letter that had arrived last week. His cell phone chimed as he was slinging the bag onto his shoulders, but he ignored it. He had things to do.

In the kitchen, he grabbed the picture of him and Mom and slid it next to his phone. He then walked out of the apartment. No need to lock the door. If someone wanted to clear the rest out, let them. He was going to school, and he wasn’t coming back.

***

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[whatisonthemoonarchive]

RE: On Dan Fefferman and Political Theology

Reading over the members spasm of voluminous spam on the blog over the last couple days and one article from Applied Unificationism jumped out at me. It was a submission by  Dan Fefferman with his analysis on the various Moon church schisms and their particular brand of "Political Theology". My comments to articles at Applied Unificationism never get posted so I will place them here on WIOTM. Dan Fefferman has a very interesting history as a member and was deeply involved in formulating Rev. Moon's version of "Political Theology". As an operative, Dan was never the one to carry an AR-15 into battle but he certainly associated with plenty of people who did and would without much persuasion. Dan was called to testify at the House International relations subcommittee investigating U.S. Korean relations. This is a fascinating document if you have the time to read the transcripts. I almost fell off the sofa when I noticed in the title that Congressman Leo Ryan was a prominent member of the Subcommittee. Leo Ryan was murdered by members of the Peoples Temple cult after he visited their compound in Jonestown Guyana shortly after the subcommittee investigation was concluded. That is a post for another day. The following is a brief excerpt and supporting links dredged up by the tireless Mr. Moon Critic, (thunderous applause). Pay close attention to all of the excerpts in bold font as they probably contain clues to the hidden effects of said "Political Theology". You may want to follow the links and search the back grounds of all the names mentioned here for a real education on Political and Religious subversion. Thanks again for participating, Frank F

Mr. Harrington (of the Fraser Committee) asks Dan Fefferman about Ed Feulner

https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=pur1.32754077268948;view=1up;seq=72

Mr. HARRINGTON: 

I have another document which staff will make available to you entitled “Daily Report,” from yourself to Mr. Salonen, dated September 11, 1974. 

Item No. 4 is entitled “Letters re Korea Trip,” and states, “Please give me more guidance about what to say to Minister Kim and Ed Feulner. The information has already been communicated from Ed to Min. Kim.”

First, can you identify Ed Feulner? I don’t know if I have the correct pronunciation. I assume it is close enough for you to know whom I am referring to.

DAILY REPORT

Dan Fefferman report to Neil Salonen

1. Appointments - Lunch with Sven Kraemer on Thursday to discuss Vietnam. He has not seen us since our return, and he invited Louise and me to be his guests. Lunch with Phuong Dung, Friday. I don’t know whether these two are connected through conscious conspiracy or simply through the spiritual world.

4. Letters re Korea trip. — Please give me more guidance about what to say to Minister Kim and Ed Feulner. The information has already been communicated from Ed to Min. Kim. (Mr. Moon Critic note: Mr. Kim was the founder of the K.C.I.A.)

8. David Martin - Came to dinner tonight...He wants to sometime to talk to you and Re. Moon about some ideas he has. One thing he mentioned was using church a.c. missionaries in countries like Greece and Portugal to coach anti-Communist forces as a catalyst for effective action.

9. Internal Security - This business about new leaks is getting ridiculous, Pentagon papers, White House "investigatory reporting" (also called muckraking) that crucified an American President - now, Laurence Stern (of all people) comes up with a story quoting minutes of a "top secret State Department meeting" at which Sec. Kissinger allegedly ordered the CIA to overthrow Allende. I really want to do something about this. We'll start with the TIDE, but I'd seriously like to suggest putting some muscle behind it sometime in the future after things settle down. There should be laws against this kind of thing. (Please excuse my diatribe).

https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu/news/20001113/

Detailed minutes of the “40 Committee” meetings—the high-level interagency group chaired by national security advisor Henry Kissinger—which oversaw U.S. efforts to undermine the election and government of Socialist leader Salvador Allende.  These meetings reveal strategies of “drastic action” planned to “shock” Chileans into taking action to block Allende.

https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu//news/20000919/index.html

The report, “CIA Activities in Chile,” revealed for the first time that the head of the Chile’s feared secret police, DINA, was a paid CIA asset in 1975... “CIA actively supported the military Junta after the overthrow of Allende,” the report states. “Many of Pinochet’s officers were involved in systematic and widespread human rights abuses....Some of these were contacts or agents of the CIA or US military.” 

https://isgp-studies.com/le-cercle-pinay

The most important American think tank...was the Heritage Foundation...the Heritage Foundation was closely linked to Le Cercle. President of the Heritage Foundation from 1977 to 2013 and again for 7 months in 2017 was Edwin Feulner, a Knight of Malta, a known Cercle visitor, and solid member of the global superclass. Paul Weyrich, a wealthy co-founder and financier of the Heritage Foundation, has also visited Le Cercle...Both Feulner and Weyrich were involved in the Council for National Policy and generallyconsidered to be loyal to Opus Dei...

Additionally, a number of Cercle members have been involved with institutions with strong links to the Moonie cult. Among them are the Victims of Communism Memorial Foundation, which counted the involvement of Brian Crozierm, Edwin Feulner and Zbigniew Brzezinski; and the Global Economic Action Institute, of which the London branch was chaired by Julian Amery, head of Le Cercle at the time the story came out. Many neocons, who also became prominent in Le Cerce, became allied with the Moonies in the 1980s.

Vernon Walters...while deputy CIA director - under President Gerald Ford...and secretary of state Henry Kissinger - Walters was one of the key founders of Latin America's Condor operation, a continent-wide anti-communist and anti-socialist death squad with CIA backing...Kissinger, then operating under Nixon, sanctioned the CIA to overthrow the democratically-elected moderate president of Chile, Salvador Allende.

http://www.tparents.org/Library/Unification/Books/Tims1/Tims1-44.htm

Freedom and Responsibility - Bo Hi Pak - September 20, 1987

Reverend Moon, President Morales Bermudez, President Sucre, congressmen, honored guests, distinguished participants, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Korea, the Land of the Morning Calm, and welcome to the World Media Conference.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisco_Morales_Berm%C3%BAdez

Francisco Morales-Bermúdez Cerruti - President of Peru - 1975 to 1980

Morales Bermudez is currently being prosecuted by Italian judge Luisianna Figliolia for the presumed forced disappearance of 25 Italian citizens in the frame of Operation Condor, a campaign of political oppression against leftists orchestrated by the right-wing dictatorships of South America in the 1970s.

http://hdhstudy.com/wp-content/uploads/Publications/The_Cornerstone/1981-The-Cornerstone.pdf

Page 42

On September 1, UTS was honored by the presence of General Ramon Diaz Bessone, one of the eight two-star generals of Argentina, who presented an informative lecture on global communist expansion. He outlined the gradual expansionary strategy of the Soviets in the West; subversion, finlandization, and encirclement. These tactics may serve as a means to attain the eventual capitulation of Western Europe, the United States, and Latin America.

General Bessone pointed out that, since Argentina has an important cultural influence on Latin America, communists concentrate much effort on subversive activities in that country. He claimed that the Carter Administration and the Liberal press contributed to subversive activities and to the distortion of the Argentinian situation in world opinion when they condemned the defeat of communist guerrillas in Argentina on the grounds of violation of human rights. He stressed how advantageous public confusion, disinformation, and naivete regarding the world situation are to communists.

https://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=es&u=https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ram%25C3%25B3n_Genaro_D%25C3%25ADaz_Bessone&prev=search

Ramón Genaro Díaz Bessone (born October 27, 1925 ) is an Argentine military man who reached the rank of General of Division , who during the military dictatorship called Process of National Reorganization (1976-1983) held high positions, among them Commander of Corps II and Minister of Planning under the presidency of Jorge Rafael Videla.

In July 2004 the justice ordered the arrest of Diaz Bessone in the case for crimes committed under the Condor Plan . 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Condor

Operation Condor... was a campaign of political repression and state terror involving intelligence operations and assassination of opponents, which started in 1968 and was officially implemented in 1975 by the right-wing dictatorships of the Southern Cone of South America... Ecuador and Peru later joined the operation in more peripheral roles.

A target was Orlando Letelier... Michael Townley, General Manuel Contreras (former head of the DINA), and Brigadier Pedro Espinoza Bravo (also formerly of DINA), were convicted of the murders...Townley confessed that he had hired five anti-Castro Cuban exiles...with the terrorist organization CORU's leadership...those elected to carry out the murder were Cuban-Americans José Dionisio Suárez, Virgilio Paz Romero, Alvin Ross Díaz, and brothers Guillermo and Ignacio Novo Sampoll.

https://books.google.com/books?id=vgthWZ5KlskC&pg=PA32&lpg=PA32&dq=cuban+nationalist+movement,+coru&source=bl&ots=pfrLMwG4a2&sig=Yy4X7vwyPDhwHN0Sb_WYZxVs834&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwioxcjYjP_RAhVGs1QKHT-tCcsQ6AEINDAD#v=onepage&q=cuban%20nationalist%20movement%2C%20coru&f=false

Perhaps the most deeply drug-linked of all CORU's members were those involved in the Cuban Nationalist Movement (CNM), a small neo-fascist group with bases in both Miami and Union City, New Jersey.

http://www.latinamericanstudies.org/omega/New-York-9-10-1979.pdf

Pages 4 to 5 - An Army in Exile - An Inside Look at Cuban Terrorists 4 miles from Manhattan

Feeding the hopes of exile terrorists through the years have been powerful outside interests...and in 1977 a representative from yet another heavily financed international organization dedicated to fighting world Communism appeared on the scene: a Reverend Jose Casado of Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church...Casado supplied $2000 to the Cuban Nationalist Movement to help pay legal fees for the three members convicted for their parts in the Letelier murder. 

http://www.governmentattic.org/docs/FBI_File_UnificationChurch_1967-1988.pdf

Page 27 - December 1978 - COORDINATION OF UNITED REVOLUTIONARY ORGANIZATIONS (CORU)

Pak told source that Pak had recently testified in the "Koreagate" case in Washington, D.C. Source described Pak as a Korean National, 55 years of age, graying slick dark hair, wearing prescription glasses and appearing very cultured and intellectual.

https://vault.fbi.gov/sun-myung-moon/sun-myung-moon-part-07-of-12/view

Pages 113 to 114 - December 1978 - COORDINATION OF UNITED REVOLUTIONARY ORGANIZATIONS (CORU)

Purpose: 

To furnish information received that Reverend Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church has agreed to furnish monetary support to the Cuban exile terrorist organization, CORU, in the United States...source learned that Reverend Sun Myung Moon's Unification church was prepared to financially back the Cuban exile terrorist element...(Bo Hi Pak) told source that he had testified in the (Fraser Hearings) case in Washington, D.C. (Bo Hi Pak) expressed keen interest in CORU and stated that Reverend Moon desires to discreetly establish and finance a network of radical anti-communist groups around the world.

https://vault.fbi.gov/sun-myung-moon/sun-myung-moon-part-10-of-12/view

Pages 18 to 19 - December 1978 - COORDINATION OF UNITED REVOLUTIONARY ORGANIZATIONS (CORU)

(Bo Hi Pak) advised that the Reverend Moon Organization wishes to provide financial aid to anti-communist Terrorists and is willing to utilize the Church as a cover for its activities...a small amount of money has been furnished in the recent past.

http://nsarchive.gwu.edu/NSAEBB/NSAEBB153/19780816.pdf

Page 14 - April 1978 - ORLANDO BOSCH AND ANTI-CASTRO TERRORIST ORGANIZATIONS

COORDINATION OF UNITED REVOLUTIONARY ORGANIZATIONS (CORU)

Dr. Carlos F. Dominicis, CORU leader in the New York area...Dominicis had been approached by one Korean and one Spanish individual claiming to be delegates of Reverend Moon and had offered financial aid to FOCI and its anti-Castro activity. Dominicis advised that he had discussed the financial aid being offered by Reverend Moon with Frank Castro and Orlando Acosta and Dominicis was told by Castro and Acosta to go ahead and receive financial aid offered by the delegates of Reverend Moon. Dominicis advised that CORU is being proposed as the possible military arm of FOCI.

------------------------------------------

https://www.nytimes.com/1977/09/19/archives/73-record-tells-of-plan-by-sun-myung-moon-aides-for-drive-against.html

NEW YORK TIMES Sept. 19, 1977 By Richard Halloran "73 Record Tells of Plan by Sun Myung Moon Aides for Drive Against Nixon Impeachment"

WASHINGTON, Sept. 18 — On the evening of Dec. 29, 1973, leaders of the Rev. Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church in the United States gathered here to plan a drive intended to prevent an impeachment of the President they called “the Archangel Nixon,” according to the minutes of that meeting.

The head of the American branch of the church was further described in the minutes as disclosing something of Mr. Moon's ambitions, saying, “We are right on the edge of influencing people. Master wants to give an address to a joint session of Congress.”

Beyond that the minutes of that meeting seem to illuminate the aspirations of the Unification Church for political and religious influence in the United States and to illustrate its tactical approach to a political operation.

In a report last month, Representative Donald M. Fraser, Democrat of Minnesota, the chairman of the Subcommittee on International Organizations, one of the House panels that have been investigating alleged Korean efforts to influence American policy, said that his subcommittee had “received reliable information that Mr. Moon “and organizations connected with him maintained operational ties with the Government of South Korea and specifically the Korean Central Intelligence Agency.” 

In addition, authoritative Government investigators here said that they had determined that the document was authentic.

The minutes quote Mr. Salonen further: “For deciding Congressmen, this is the crucial time. Impeachment proceedings are beginning. Yet polls are indicating that Nixon's popularity has just gone up by 4 percentage points to 31 percent. Now is the time to affect them at the grass roots level.”

Mr. Salonen outlined plans for allies and other political action intended “to show Nixon and Congress both our own power and the outer support..."

“1) Impact on the media—visibly strongly; 2) Impact on Congressmen, and 3) Impact on influential community leaders to approach Congressmen themselves.”

Mr. Salonen exhorted his lieutenants: “Each of us must work like 10 people to seem like at least 10,000. Approach this short‐range project with a long‐range view. We will always be doing and planning things like this. Always be ready.”

After Mr. Salonen spoke, the minutes disclose, he turned the meeting over to Daniel G. Fefferman, who was national project director. Mr. Fefferman is currently under a threat of a citation for contempt of Congress for refusing to answer questions before the subcommittee headed by Representative Fraser. Mr. Fefferman has contended that the subcommittee infringed on his First Amendment rights protecting freedom of religion.

“The problem is,” Mr. Fefferman was recorded as saying. “that without a definite stance on Nixon, the media will have nothing to sink their teeth into. They will try to pin you down. So be careful, but get the press there.”

Mr. Fefferman appeared to have spent most of his time on why and how members of the church must stimulate news coverage. “The White House, Congress and the people will become aware of us through the press,” he said. “They must see something strong and nationwide.”

Mr. Fefferman, who then headed the Freedom Leadership Foundation, a political affiliate of the Unification Church, offered advice on dealing with the press: “Move as quickly as possible.” He urged that news releases be delivered early, with details filled in later.

In Washington, Mr. Fefferman directed that Unification Church members visit Representatives and Senators after informing themselves of the members' political positions. He said that Congressmen were to be involved in their movement...

Mr. Fefferman emphasized, “Few groups have the power to spread orders so quickly. In the future, we will be very powerful because of this. Even if he is negative, a congressman understands nothing better than voter power. Each one takes this seriously.”

“If you put a full page ad in the paper and your congressman won't see you,” he continued, “hold a demonstration. He would seem irresponsible then if he didn't see you.”

Mr. Fefferman was also quoted as directing that outside groups be recruited, including the Young Republicans, the Young Americans for Freedom, ethnic groups whose members were apt to be anti‐Communist, patriotic organizations like the Sons of the American Revolution...

https://appliedunificationism.com/2017/08/28/the-legacy-of-unification-political-theology/

The Legacy of Unification Political Theology - August 28, 2017 

Rev. Sun Myung Moon founded the International Federation for Victory Over Communism in 1969 as a major ideological offensive. IFVOC established coalitions with other anti-communist organizations throughout the world. In the U.S., members created the Freedom Leadership Foundation (FLF) as the American affiliate of IFVOC. Thus, it created a “hawkish” face in terms of public image, despite its equally strong commitment to world peace, which remained somewhat hidden.

The VOC thrust had always been accompanied by globalist projects such as the One World Crusade and various scientific, ecumenical and peace initiatives. The first of these was the International Conference on the Unity of the Sciences (ICUS), begun in 1972 in New York and held annually throughout the 1970s into the 1980s.

The right-wing tendency experienced an unexpected resurgence with the ascendency of Hyung Jin (Sean) Moon and his brother, Kook Jin (Justin) Moon. With Hyung Jin’s support, Kook Jin began to promote in the U.S. the “Freedom Society,” an adamantly libertarian ideology opposed to left-liberalism. 

Since Rev. Moon’s ascension in 2012 and the emergence of schisms centering on Preston and Sean, the underlying tensions in Unification political theology have come into sharper focus.

Hyung Jin and Kook Jin...in their Sanctuary Church faction, espouse a strongly right-wing libertarian viewpoint. They have also embraced conspiracy theories about 9/11, the Illuminati, world banking cabals, and the doomsday prophecies of a Messianic rabbi. In 2016, Hyung Jin and Kook Jin became enthusiastic supporters of the candidacy of Donald Trump. Lately, however, Sean has begun to worry publicly that Trump has given in to pressure from the “globalists” who he alleges want to surrender American sovereignty to international organizations and the so-called worldwide banking conspiracy.

The Unification Movement’s expression of its political theology initially focused on achieving Victory Over Communism but simultaneously developed various programs aimed at the longer term goals...The right-wing tendency experienced a brief resurgence during the period of Sean’s ascendency...Today, the overall movement has become less overtly political than it was during its heyday, with the exception of the Sanctuary Church faction, which is strongly right-wing libertarian in orientation.

In any case, with anti-communism no longer a central feature, and Rev. Moon no longer on the scene, the future of Unification political theology will remain in flux for the foreseeable future. 

-------------------------------------------

https://archive.org/stream/pdfy-YAnJOkt3G0B4uEGh/Scott+&+Jon+Lee+Anderson+-+Inside+the+League+(1986)_djvu.txt

Inside The League 

THE SHOCKING EXPOSE OF HOW TERRORISTS, NAZIS, AND LATIN AMERICAN DEATH SQUADS HAVE INFILTRATED THE WORLD ANTI-COMMUNIST LEAGUE 

The Americans who have belonged to the World Anti-Communist League consistently contend that they have attempted to be a moderating influence or that they were unaware of the unsavory nature of other League chapters. The evidence, however, much of it compiled by the Americans themselves, shows that they knowingly belonged to a federation of death squad leaders, Nazi war criminals, and neo-fascists. At best, they are showcases of naivete; a more critical observer would say that they are showcases of far worse. 

The first American League Chapter was the American Council for World Freedom (ACWF), founded in 1970 in Washington, D.C. The main force behind its creation, and its first secretary, was Lee Edwards, head of a public relations firm and former director of Young Americans for Freedom, the youth arm of the John Birch Society.

Edwards lined up an impressive array of conservative American leaders for the American Council for World Freedom to appear on its letterhead and to attend World Anti-Communist League functions. Lev Dobriansky, a former OSS officer in Germany during World War II and chairman of the National Captive Nations Committee (and currently ambassador to the Bahamas), joined, as did Dr. Walter H. Judd, former Republican congressman from Minnesota; John Fisher, executive director of the American Security Council; and Reed Irvine, a longtime fixture of the far right. A year earlier, Irvine had established Accuracy in Media, "a watchdog of the media by promoting accuracy and fairness in reporting." ACWF's eventual president was retired Army Major General Thomas Lane; Eleanor Schlafly represented the Cardinal Mindszenty Foundation.

The Unification Church in the United States was also involved; Neil Salonen— president of the Church in the United States, secretary-general of the Freedom Leadership Foundation, and a director of the Moonie-owned Tong-il Armaments Company in Korea was on the ACWF board. 

MR. MOON CRITICS NOTE: Lev Dobriansky would later help with "filling the park" for the Washington Monument Rally in 1976...Without his help that Rally could've been a disaster...and later he would become the President of the Global Economic Action Institute which was working closely with Le Cercle (Robert B. Anderson was the previous president of GEAI)

Walter Judd, Lee Edwards & Reed Irvine were ALL HANDLERS for Neil Salonen from the beginning to go along with David Martin...the most important HANDLER of all.