Tuesday, 3 June 2014

The Most Beautiful Town in America 2

                Boss Spearman: It's a pretty day for making things right.
                Charley Waite: Well, enjoy it, 'cause once it starts, it's gonna
                                          be messy like nothing you ever seen.
                                                      Larry McMurtry, Lonesome Dove

Of the three dentist offices in Sandpoint, two were closed. Our last chance lived in a refurbished old house across the tracks, in a grove of mature trees, on Ontario Street. The door opened inward, to a small empty waiting room with a fish tank, a stack of Outdoor magazines, and the sound of an angry drill, back behind the counter.
The receptionist was plump and pleasant, as you would have expected in any Norman Rockwell experience.
“May I help you?” She offered, and I took her up on it. The short version about the clunk falling out of the hole didn’t move her much, but the additional historical features of forlorn foreigners searching for the Old West in the most beautiful town in America, eventually seemed to work.
“He’s the only dentist working today.” She said. “And he’s very busy. Could you come back?” We could come back. I asked if she knew a good place for lunch.
“Y’all like Mexican?” She asked. We all liked Mexican.
“There’s a place called Joel’s.” She said. “They make a mean fish taco.” Nothing like the smell of fish and habañeros to endear you to a strange dentist.
Robyn and I headed downtown to Joel’s, and got in line. The only road signs were divine and devotional. Tortas… Tostadas… Tacos… Quesadillas… Burritos…
A big black home-built car, half Bugatti, half Cadillac, with parabolic headlamps, grille horns, spring fenders, protruding pipes, and a Bentley hood ornament, pulled up to the curb, so confused by its many architectural influences, that Robyn let out her breath in a low whistle.
“Next.” Shouted the massive Mamita behind the counter. We ordered the fish tacos.
“Ju are bery lucky.” She said. “Ju got the last two.” But she was very lucky too.
In August of 1888, a twenty-nine year old author and civil servant named Theodore Roosevelt, writing a book he called The Winning of the West, left his New York home and came through Sandpoint, on a caribou-hunting trip. He was heading for the Wild Horse Trail, which went north to the gold fields of British Columbia, the ones that had resulted in the Fraser Canyon War, thirty years earlier. Teddy found a cluster of wooden buildings along either side of the Northern Pacific railroad track, more than half of which were saloons and gambling houses. Of all the men drinking that night, Roosevelt was the one to miss out on a bed in the only lodging house. Someone rented him a shack without telling the owner, who surprised him by returning in the night. It was so dark it was like three feet into a wolf.
A hundred years later, the wolf and the darkness returned to Sandpoint. California computer millionaires, Carl Story and Vincent Bertollini, crossed the bridge ‘for its clean air, beautiful scenery, quiet life style, recreation, lack of crowds, low cost of living, low violent crime, but above all, more than 98 percent of North Idaho's population is of the Adamic White Aryan people.’ They rode motorcycles and left big tips, and plotted to establish an ‘Aryan homeland.’ They weren’t the first white supremacists to set up shop around Sandpoint. In 1973, the leader of Aryan Nations, Richard Girnt Butler, a former senior Lockheed aeronautical engineer who held patents for tubeless tire repair, moved from California to Hayden Lake, a suburb of Coeur d'Alene, 30 miles down the road from Sandpoint. His 20-acre compound was the epicentre of a global network of neo-Nazis. They held an annual parade, organized ‘Aryan Nations World Congresses,’ were implicated in plots to overthrow the US government, and often blanketed the surrounding communities with fliers and mass mailings of racist hate. The goal was the establishment of a whites-only ‘national racist state’ that would include Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Oregon, and Washington.
Story and Bertollini brought new money and bigoted enthusiasm to the cause, and a higher level of computer-savvy sophistication to the promotional advertising. Their group, the ‘11th Hour Remnant Messenger,’ spent ten dollars for each 6x3 foot poster of ‘Adam’s Pure Blood Seedline,’ which they mailed out to nine thousand Idaho addresses in September of 1998. The following year they sent out an additional three mailings, Who are the real hate mongers?, The Seven Year Tribulation of Daniel and Revelation, and, my personal favourite, The Wannabe's That Want To Be and Shall Never Be: -- SATAN'S JEWS!
You can pretty much guess the content. Let me see if I can get this right:
Jews are Satan’s Chosen People, out to dominate God’s people, the Christians. Like blacks, orientals, and other races, Jews do not have souls. Satanic Jews control Hollywood movie production, radio, television, newspapers, Congress and churches. They want to ‘mix the white race with other peoples by encouraging multiculturalism, immigration, and relocation of these other peoples to North Idaho,’ and advocate Separatist bashing and belittling the Aryan to deceive the vast majority of Adamic White Aryan people. WWII was the result of a Jewish plot to destroy whites, and the masterstroke was getting the Japs to attack Pearl Harbor. America, dominated by Satan's Jews, had become ‘the great whore’ described in Revelation 19.  
How does this devious Jewish conspiracy work?  Human Rights Task Forces report to the Southern Poverty Law Center, which reports to ADL, which reports to B'nai B'rith, which, together with the US government, answers to the United Nations, overseen by the New World Order which, in turn, reports to Satan’s One World Order, Jewry ­­Communism, Enslavement of Planet Earth.
And the ‘final’ solution (my quotes)? The new ‘Mystery Babylon,’ New York City, will be ‘nuked and burn Forever and Ever.’ World War III will result in the migration of the White race from America to Israel. The War of All Wars! between the White race and the Jewish, Satanic non-race will lead to Armageddon, or World War IV, resulting in the victory of the White race and the unending reign of Jesus Christ over his White people. And they all lived happily ever after.
Vincent Bertollini even ran for mayor of Sandpoint as a write-in candidate, listing his qualifications as 30 years of High Technology Corporate Executive Management experience, his unquestionable fiscal policies, and his fairness and honesty in business dealings. His 16-point platform consisted of a declaration that Christian prayer will be restored at all Public Meetings and daily in the Sandpoint School system, and a promise that Diversity and Multi-Culturalism will be challenged at every front as being wrong and not in the interests of the citizens of Sandpoint. He lost.
Meanwhile, the white boys were busy making a racial hero of Richard Butler. They produced a video called My Side of the Story, which opened with the American flag superimposed on photos of bald eagles, the Lincoln Memorial, and a Little League baseball game. Kate Smith sang God Bless America, in the background, until the patriotic montage faded into a tour of the Aryan Nations chapel.
But God’s people were so busy going after the Satanic Jews, they missed the two Indians that had snuck up behind them. Jason and Victoria Keenan had been harassed at gunpoint by some of the seedier seedlings of their Adamic adherents. The lawsuit they filed won a combined civil judgement of $6.3 million from Richard Butler and the Aryan Nations members who had attacked them. The 2001 ruling bankrupted the organization and forced them to give up their Hayden Lake property, and disband. Bertollini bought Butler a new house, but there was one last sweet terminal event that would postpone the nuking of New York indefinitely.
“How did ju like jor tacos?” Asked Mamita.
We liked them fine.

          'Conflict follows wrongdoing as surely as flies follow the herd.'
                                                                                           Doc Holiday

No comments:

Post a Comment