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Director of National Intelligence Says American Citizens Can Be Targeted for Assassination
While the administration scrambles to provide Constitutional protections to international terror suspects who take direct action against the United States, no such protections will exist for American citizens if they are deemed a terrorist, according to the director of national intelligence:
It’s important to note that the CIA is chartered to operate outside of the United States, thus what is being referred to here is the targeting of American citizens abroad, not within our own borders. The difficulty that arises here is who is deemed a terrorist and what, exactly, is a terrorist group? A commentor at Cryptogon.com, where we originally found this story, made an important point in this respect. Based on official government documents leaked over the course of the last several years, a very broad definition for “terrorist” has emerged. The MIAC Strategic Report dated February 20, 2009 suggests that the militia movement in the United States may itself be a breeding ground for terrorist idealogies that include:
As you can see, the definitions here are very loose. The Patriot Act legislation, however, is even more unclear as to who can or cannot be deemed a terrorist. Under Patriot Act, it seems that just about anyone who violates a federal law and/or is accused of any of the following can be arrested for terrorism:
A terrorist violation of Patriot Act can have serious implications, a couple of which involve being incarcerated for the duration of your life without access to due process, a protection specifically enumerated by the sixth amendment of the Constitution, as well as forfeiture and seizure of all personal assets of said terrorist under Patriot Act section 806, even if the accused has not been convicted of a crime. It looks like we can add authorized assassination to the list. Frankly, this is sounding more and more like the former USSR everyday. Author:
Mac Slavo Copyright Information: Copyright SHTFplan and Mac Slavo. This content may be freely reproduced in full or in part in digital form with full attribution to the author and a link to www.shtfplan.com. Please contact us for permission to reproduce this content in other media formats. 5 Comments... Leave a Reply |
       
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The cat is out of the bag. We have spoken, written and conveyed subversive comments about our gov’t. I for one am guilty of most of the afore metioned violations, I will continue to do so publicly and privetly. I urge all americans to join a group or start one of your own, to resist this tyranny. We Are Change is one of many. We Are Change is a grass roots group dedicated to promoting public awareness about issues just like this we have charters all over the country. DO SOMETHING, don’t just read about it.
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Comments…..HEY PAUL- alot of us are fed up with big gov and taxes, and you are right 100%
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Brings this disturbing poem to mind:
THE HANGMANÂ
         Â
By Maurice Ogden
              Into our town the hangman came,
              smelling of gold and blood and flame.
              He paced our bricks with a different air,
              and built his frame on the courthouse square.
              The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
              only as wide as the door was wide
              with a frame as tall, or a little more,
              than the capping sill of the courthouse door.
              And we wondered whenever we had the time,
              Who the criminal? What the crime?
              The hangman judged with the yellow twist
              of knotted hemp in his busy fist.
              And innocent though we were with dread,
              we passed those eyes of buckshot lead.
              Till one cried, “Hangman, who is he,
              for whom you raised the gallows-tree?”
              Then a twinkle grew in his buckshot eye
              and he gave a riddle instead of reply.
              “He who serves me best,” said he
              “Shall earn the rope on the gallows-tree.”
              And he stepped down and laid his hand
              on a man who came from another land.
              And we breathed again, for anothers grief
              at the hangmans hand, was our relief.
              And the gallows frame on the courthouse lawn
              by tomorrow’s sun would be struck and gone.
              So we gave him way and no one spoke
              out of respect for his hangmans cloak.
              The next day’s sun looked mildly down
              on roof and street in our quiet town;
              and stark and black in the morning air
              the gallows-tree on the courthouse square.
              And the hangman stood at his usual stand
              with the yellow hemp in his busy hand.
              With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike,
              and his air so knowing and business-like.
              And we cried, “Hangman, have you not done,
              yesterday with the alien one?”
              Then we fell silent and stood amazed.
              “Oh, not for him was the gallows raised.”
              He laughed a laugh as he looked at us,
              “Do you think I’ve gone to all this fuss,
              To hang one man? That’s the thing I do.
              To stretch the rope when the rope is new.”
              Above our silence a voice cried “Shame!”
              and into our midst the hangman came;
              to that mans place, “Do you hold,” said he,
              “With him that was meat for the gallows-tree?”
              He laid his hand on that one’s arm
              and we shrank back in quick alarm.
              We gave him way, and no one spoke,
              out of fear of the hangmans cloak.
              That night we saw with dread surprise
              the hangmans scaffold had grown in size.
              Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
              the gallows-tree had taken root.
              Now as wide, or a little more
              than the steps that led to the courthouse door.
              As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
              half way up on the courthouse wall.
              The third he took, we had all heard tell,
              was a usurer…, an infidel.
              And “What” said the hangman, “Have you to do
              with the gallows-bound…, and he a Jew?”
              And we cried out, “Is this one he
              who has served you well and faithfully?”
              The hangman smiled, “It’s a clever scheme
              to try the strength of the gallows beam.”
              The fourth man’s dark accusing song
              had scratched our comfort hard and long.
              “And what concern,” he gave us back,
              “Have you … for the doomed and black?”
              The fifth, the sixth, and we cried again,
              “Hangman, hangman, is this the man?”
              “It’s a trick”, said he, “that we hangman know
              for easing the trap when the trap springs slow.”
              And so we ceased and asked now more
              as the hangman tallied his bloody score.
              And sun by sun, and night by night
              the gallows grew to monstrous height.
              The wings of the scaffold opened wide
              until they covered the square from side to side.
              And the monster cross beam looking down,
              cast its shadow across the town.
              Then through the town the hangman came
              and called through the empy streets…my name.
              I looked at the gallows soaring tall
              and thought … there’s no one left at all
              for hanging … and so he called to me
              to help take down the gallows-tree.
              And I went out with right good hope
              to the hangmans tree and the hangmans rope.
              He smiled at me as I came down
              to the courthouse square…through the silent town.
              Supple and stretched in his busy hand,
              was the yellow twist of hempen strand.
              He whistled his tune as he tried the trap
              and it sprang down with a ready snap.
              Then with a smile of awful command,
              He laid his hand upon my hand.
              “You tricked me Hangman.” I shouted then,
              “That your scaffold was built for other men,
              and I’m no henchman of yours.” I cried.
              “You lied to me Hangman, foully lied.”
              Then a twinkle grew in his buckshot eye,
              “Lied to you…tricked you?” He said “Not I…
              for I answered straight and told you true.
              The scaffold was raised for none but you.”
              “For who has served more faithfully?
              With your coward’s hope.” said He,
              “And where are the others that might have stood
              side by your side, in the common good?”
              “Dead!” I answered, and amiably
              “Murdered,” the Hangman corrected me.
              “First the alien … then the Jew.
              I did no more than you let me do.”
              Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
              none before stood so alone as I.
              The Hangman then strapped me…with no voice there
              to cry “Stay!” … for me in the empty square.
THE BOTTOM LINE: “…I did no more than you let me do.”
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Comments…..
Thanks Norsky. That poem sums it up soooo well!!!
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The Hangman’s Fate
-NetRanger
We grabbed him firm and his evil lot.
As we loosened up his hangman’s knot.
For you hangman’s evil we’ll make you pay.
Drop your eyes and for your deliverance, pray.
You’ve got nothing left, we see your plot!
We won’t stand anymore for your hangman’s knot.
There’s a place in hell for your hangman’s creed.
Spring the trap! Let him bleed!
Don’t dispair, its our victory!
We’re not guilty, its now history.
So go your way and celetbrate
our liberation and the hangman’s fate.
(The moral of the story: A tiny fraction of whole of the people outnumber the hangmen. Don’t despair. Don’t be afraid.)
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