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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave I have come to the conclusion that there has never been an honest investigation by any authoritative body in the history of the world. - Quote by Donald Jeffries

I have come to the conclusion that there has never been an honest investigation by any authoritative body in the history of the world.

Donald Jeffries
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Waldo was not alone by any means in trembling over an unjust plight. With the recent uproar over drunk driving, arrests had skyrocketed and detention centers all around the country were overflowing with bewildered motorists. Many of these dumbstruck, inebriated souls had been transferred and thoughtfully placed behind the same bars that held back murderers and rapists. Unfortunately for our heroes, they now joined the ranks of these luckless citizens.
Donald Jeffries
Waldo nodded and waved goodbye pathetically, like a young father going off to war. tAs soon as the door was closed and he was gone, Jeanne squelched her own apprehensions, opened the paper and read the poem Waldo had written for her:One taste of Jeanne and out I flewWildly, madly, in no directionBut hers, and yet so straight and trueI fly towards her with no protectionIt feels so strange to move this wayThough I should land, desire it seemsMoves in strange circles and so I stayDisoriented beyond my wildest dreams.
Donald Jeffries
Try this." O'Grady smiled. "It's the only thing we drink. It'll warm your insides."t"What is it?" Asked the ever cautious Waldo.t"We call it the Forest Flaming Special. Go ahead-drink up."t"Well, okay...." Waldo lifted the cup and nearly dropped it when saw his name printed clearly on the side. t"We've been expecting you." Explained Fred, beginning to laugh.
Donald Jeffries
Who is responsible for the incredible mess the present-day generation ofAmericans find themselves in? In this book, I hope to show exactly how thishappened. A series of deadly, inexplicable decisions by our elected leadersand corporate executives have paved the way to the crisis we must deal withnow. Corruption has grown entrenched, like an inoperable disease, in nearlyevery organ of the establishment. We must heed the words of one of America’sgreatest statesmen, Thomas Jefferson: “Single acts of tyranny may be ascribedto the accidental opinion of a day. But a series of oppressions, begun at adistinguished period, and pursued unalterably through every change ofministers [administrations], too plainly proves a deliberate systematic planof reducing us to slavery.” The American people have been dealing with justsuch a “series of oppressions” now for well over a century, and there canbe little doubt that it is the result of a “deliberate systematic plan.” The bestword to describe it is conspiracy.
Donald Jeffries
Gossip columnists patrol their mundane arena with the same sort of mysterious merit the advice-givers do. Plainly put, how does anyone become a gossip columnist? I can't simplify it down to a lower scale than that. Are there universities that offer courses in gossip writing? How about plain old Gossip 111? Are there that many literate people who could not write a gossip column? What then, qualifies the chosen few above the rest?
Donald Jeffries
Obama’s election to the presidency in 2008 was treated more like acoronation, if not an intense religious ritual, by the establishment press anda fawning, glassy-eyed majority of Americans. Anyone who questionedanything at all about Obama was deemed to be a “hater” or, even worse,a racist.
Donald Jeffries
Waldo inhaled deeply, staring at the ceiling. It was at times like this that he was at his worst. His mind, while indecisive, was also capable of producing the most detailed, fantastic daydreams imaginable, and with the mysterious disappearance of his grandfather as fodder, his speculations grew even more intense and far-fetched than usual. On the other hand, the logical part of his brain, underdeveloped as it was, went almost entirely untapped in such a situation. Waldo was literally frozen into inaction by his chemical makeup, and this was apparent in the number of cigarettes he lit, the number of sighs he expelled, and the number of times his helpless fingers alternated between nervously tapping the coffee table and running through his unkempt hair. All that night, Waldo remained awake, deep in unproductive thought, routinely walking back and forth from the living room to the front porch, where he would take a seat in the old-fashioned swing and smoke heavily. The blissful suburban setting, especially on spring nights like this, when the crickets chirped so lustily, and the porch swing creaked so reassuringly in the warm breeze, was perfect for conjuring up bold new fantasies.
Donald Jeffries
At Snortin' Reformatory, a notorious Washington, D.C. jail located in the northern Virginia suburbs, The Afro-Anarchists were being thrown into a cell. It was a situation that the three of them, like many young black males in the D.C. area, had long ago come to expect as a rite of passage. As the door slammed shut behind them, Bucktooth spoke. "Man, Phosphate, they didn't read us our rights or nothin'." "Yeah, Phos,” Fontaine chimed in, "I didn't think they had to beat us, neither. And whoever heard of being charged with singing too loud and off-key in a public establishment? I don't believe there is no kind of law for that shit.
Donald Jeffries
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