Editor’s note:  A scenario in several parts to add  to that pastime of telling scary stories around a campfire, or wherever friends and family gather. 

Which part will you play?  Uncle Charlie? Bonita, or one of her cousins?  How about one of the Mysterious voices?  Are you brave enough to take the role of Joe?  Enjoy.

 

 

The characters:

Joe

Charlie

Mysterious Voice #1

Mysterious Voice #2

Uncle Charlie

Bonita

Joan

Huntz

Lou

The scene:  A campsite at night.  A fire is blazing in a fire pit.  Tents and equipment in the background.  Five campers are seated around the fire.

Huntz:  Sure is a dark night.

Joan:  Look at all those stars.

Uncle Charlie:  You kids get everything cleaned up and put away from dinner?

Bonita, Joan , Huntz, Lou:  Yes.

Bonita:  Everybody ready for some music?  I brought my guitar.

Huntz:  Not yet. I want to hear a ghost story first, then music after, so I can get to sleep.

Lou:  Could we just skip the ghost story please?

Joan:  What’s the matter Lou, afraid of a little campfire creepers?

Lou:  The creepers I get are not the little kind.  I can play percussion on the spoons.

Huntz:  No, let’s hear a story first.  Who knows a good ghost story?

Uncle Charlie:  I don’t know a ghost story, but I do know a pretty scary story, and it happens to be true.

Bonita:  Go on Uncle Charlie, tell us.

Uncle Charlie:  Well, it started out on a night just like this night, at a campsite, just like this one, out in the middle of nowhere, miles from anywhere and anyone.  At least that’s what Joe and Charlie thought when they settled down in front of the fire,  after dinner, just like we are now…

Joe:  Sure is a dark night.

Charlie: Yeah, look at all those stars.

Joe: I wonder if there are any other people out here.

Charlie:  I doubt it.  I haven’t seen a living soul for miles.

Joe: You think I should chop more wood for the fire?

Charlie:  I’ll check.  Looks like plenty.  I cut some up earlier.  That axe of yours really does the job.

Joe:  Yeah, I just had it sharpened.  I knew we’d put it to good use out here.

Charlie: That thing cut through the kindling like nothing, and even went through the bigger stuff with ease.  I bet  it would go right through bone.

Joe:  Bone?  Who wants to cut through bone?

Charlie:  Nobody, I just meant that when I was chopping wood and felt how sharp that axe was, I thought of what would happen if my hand slipped. I wouldn’t want to loose a toe, or even a whole foot.

Joe: No, you wouldn’t want to chop your foot off.  Especially not out here, miles from anywhere.  That’s why you’ve got to be careful when you chop something with an axe.

Charlie: Real careful. You get enough to eat?

Joe;  Yeah, Nothing like dinner under the stars.  I bet I’ll really rest tonight.

Charlie:  Yeah.  Me too, but don’t forget about lunch tomorrow.

Joe:  That’s gonna be something special.  You’re in for a real treat.

Charlie:  We’ll see who gets the treat.  Remember I’ve got my own recipe. Everything’s right there in the cooler, ready to go. You’ll find out how a master does it.

Joe:  Charlie my boy, you might as well give up now.  Tomorrow afternoon, your taste buds are going to declare me the winner.

Charlie:  Wait and see Joe, just wait–hey, did you hear that?

Joe;  What?  I didn’t hear anything.

Charlie:  Something strange.  A kind of wailing, out there, in the night.  Sounded like a child , you know, like a kid who’s lost and crying for his mamma, but too scared to be really loud, just kind of wailing, low and mournful.

Joe:  Cut it out Charlie, you must be hearing things.  No kids out here anyway.  If you heard anything it was probably just an animal.

Charlie:  There it goes again.

Joe:  I hear it now too.  And rustling in the bushes.   Something is moving out there in the dark.  I can’t tell for sure,  but it seems to be  getting closer.

Charlie: What kind of animal makes a sound like that?  It’s giving me the creeps.

Joe:  Probably raccoons, or maybe coyotes.  They can make some pretty weird noises.

Charlie:  I don’t know.  I don’t think that’s any animal.  A sound like that could only be made by a human.

Joe:  Charlie, there aren’t any people around here besides you and I.  There can’t be.  We didn’t pass any other campsites.  I can’t even remember  when we last saw a car, and the only building for miles is that deserted looking farmers stand back by the main road.

Charlie:  Just the same, there it is again.  I’m going to  find out.

Joe:  Wait, Charlie.  Don’t go out there.

Charlie:  What?  Why not?

Joe: I don’t think it’s safe out there.  I just remembered something.

Charlie:  What?  What did you remember Joe?

Joe:  I read some stories online about a group, a cult or something, that supposedly does bizarre rituals out in these woods.

Charlie:  This is a fine time to remember.  Why didn’t you think of that before we came out here?  There it is again.  I think they’re getting closer.

Joe:  I didn’t take it seriously.  I thought it was just  an online legend or hoax.

Charlie:  Those are definitely human sounds Joe,  and they’re starting to surround the campsite.  Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!

Joe:  Wait.  It’s too late!

Charlie:  What the–?  Where did that come from?

Joe:  Someone threw it in from out of the darkness just beyond the light of our fire.

Charlie:  Did you hear the sound it made when it landed. It must be heavy.

Joe:  Yeah, I heard it, a real thud.  It rolled pretty close to you after it landed.  Can you tell what it is?

Charlie:  Something in a brown paper bag.  Something about the size of a bowling ball.

Joe:  What is it Charlie?  What’s in the bag?

Charlie:  I don’t know.  I’m reaching in.  I can’t tell, but it feels like, like…

Joe: Like what?  What is it?

Charlie:  It’s a  head.

Joe:  A head?

Charlie:  Yes,  a head, or rather, half a head.  Whoever did this must have used an incredibly sharp instrument.  It’s cut clean through the middle, not even the slightest fraying.

Joe:  Cut clean through the middle.  I  think I’m going to be sick.  Do you suppose there’s any chance of, of identifying  the, the– maybe in the daylight?

Charlie: I don’t know.   If I could just get my fingers around it.  Yes it definitely feels like– I don’t know if I can–  it’s a little bit slippery, but if I can just hold on without dropping it and get it out and get a good look.

Joe:  Don’t, I can’t watch.

Charlie:  That’s okay.  I’ve removed it from the bag.  Just as I thought, this head is a very fine cabbage.

Joe:  Cabbage?  Did you say cabbage?

Charlie:  Yes,  cabbage.

Joe:  You had me terrified all this time about a head of cabbage?  Why didn’t you specify “A HEAD OF CABBAGE,”  instead of just saying “A head”?

Charlie:  I wanted to be sure.  I thought there was just the slightest chance it was lettuce, but I knew from the sound it made when it landed that it was probably too heavy to be lettuce.  Still, I had to make sure.  I know how you don’t like cabbage.

Joe: Never mind how I don’t like cabbage.  You had me believing there was a human head in that bag.

Charlie: A human head ?  You  thought there was a human head in this  bag?

Joe:  Yes, a human head.  Or actually half a human head,  which is even worse.

Charlie:  Come on Joe,  that’s crazy.  I mean, seriously,  what kind of person would do something like that?

Joe:  Someone pretty bad?

Charlie:  Hold on  a minute.  What are we talking about Joe?  Nobody cut off anybody’s head.  That was just a cabbage in that bag, remember?

Joe: Yeah, that’s right.  It was just a cabbage.

Charlie:  We’re getting all creeped out over a head of cabbage.

Joe: Yeah, a head of cabbage.  That’s pretty funny.  Imagine that.

Charlie:  Boy, do I feel relieved.

Joe:  Charlie, there’s just one thing I want to know.

Charlie:  Yeah Joe, what’s that?

Joe:  Who threw that cabbage?

Charlie:  You’re right, somebody threw it.

Joe:  Somebody out there.

Charlie: In  the dark.

Joe: Surrounding us.

Charlie:  Somebody with an incredibly sharp instrument.

Joe: What do you suppose they want?

Charlie: Probably just some pranksters, trying to frighten us for laughs.

Joe:  Yeah, and it worked.

Charlie:  YOU OUT THERE!

Joe: Did you hear that, they’re laughing at us.

Charlie:   YOU’VE HAD YOUR LAUGH.   NOW,  WHO ARE YOU?

Mysterious  voice #1:  We are The Keepers of the Dark Wood.

Charlie:  The Keepers of the Dark Wood?

Mysterious Voice #2: Yes, you’ve heard of us?

Charlie: No.

Mysterious Voice #2: We’re on Facebook.

Charlie: No

Mysterious Voice#2: Twitter?

Joe: Afraid not.

Mysterious Voice#2 Instagram? Snapchat?

Charlie:  Sorry, nothing.

Mysterious Voice #1: Enough!  Stop this useless babbling.  We are here to trade with you.

Charlie:  Trade, what kind of a trade?

Mysterious Voice #1:  A fair trade.   A one for one trade.

Joe:   We don’t appreciate your little prank. Suppose we don’t want to trade with you?

Mysterious Voice #1:  You are trespassers in the Dark Wood.  There are penalties for that, if we choose to be unpleasant.  And besides, we could just take what we want.  If you are wise, you will accept the offer to trade.

Charlie:  Tell us first what you want to trade.

Mysterious Voice #1:  You have our trade item in your hand.

Charlie:  This?  The cabbage?

Mysterious Voice #1:  That is correct.  The head of cabbage.

Joe: And in return you want?

Mysterious Voice #1: In return for our head–

Joe: Actually it’s half a head.

Mysterious Voice #1: Very well, in return for our half a head, we want half a head of yours.

Charlie:  You want half of one of our heads?

Mysterious Voice #1:  Come,  come, you have two.  All we ask is half of one.

Charlie:  What you’re suggesting is, is…?

Mysterious Voice #1:  What we are suggesting is that one of you gentleman bring us half of one head between the two that you have.

Charlie: And which of us do you suppose is going to do that?

Mysterious Voice #1:  Naturally I assume that is something you two will settle between yourselves.  I should imagine the one who acts first will manage to decide the matter quickly.  I notice that camp axe near your fire.

Charlie:  What you’re suggesting is–

Mysterious Voice #1 :  I am merely suggesting that one of you execute the trade we have proposed.  The alternative would be unpleasant for both of you.     This way at least one of you can avoid a loss.

Joe:  Charlie, what are you doing?  Come back here.

Charlie:  I’m sorry Joe, but it has to be this way.

Joe:  Charlie, put down that axe!  Charlie, please, in the name of our friendship no!

Charlie:  There’s no other way Joe.  It’s either one or both of us, you heard him.  Joe?  Joe?  I guess the shock was to much for you, old friend, you’ve passed out.  Perhaps it’s just as well, I wouldn’t want to see the look in your eyes when I–well at least this axe is good and sharp.  One quick, solid blow ought to do it.  There!  It’s done.  I’m sorry old friend, but it was yours or mine. YOU OUT THERE, HERE IT IS.

Huntz:  Wait a minute Uncle Charlie, wait a minute!

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Huntz, what is it?

Huntz:  You said this was a true story, right?

Uncle Charle:  That’s right Huntz.

Huntz:  And so far there are only four people in the story.  Two of them are those weird keepers and one of them is this Joe guy and from the sound of it he’s not going to be doing much talking, so how come you know so much about it?

Uncle Charlie:  Why Huntz, I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out by now.

Huntz:  Figured what out, Uncle Charlie?

Joan:  That our Uncle Charlie is the Charlie in the story, Huntz.

Huntz:  What?  Uncle Charlie?  You mean with the axe and the head and Joe laying there on the ground?   Joan, I’m surprised at you.  That’s our Uncle Charlie you’re talking about.

Uncle Charlie:  I’m afraid your cousin is right Huntz.  I am the Charlie in the story.

Huntz:  Meep.

Uncle Charlie:  What was that?

Huntz:  Nothing.  Has anyone seen Lou?

Bonita:  I haven’t seen Lou for a while, but I do see his sleeping bag shivering.

Joan:  Lou?  Lou, are you under there?

Lou:  Leave me alone.   Unless your next words are “We’re getting out of here” just leave me alone.

Huntz:  I agree with Lou.  Uncle Charlie, how could you?

Uncle Charlie:  If you kids will just calm down and let me finish the story,  you will see just how, and what, I really did.

Huntz:  Well, all right.  But you stay on your own side of the fire.  I’m staying here between Joan and Bonita.

Uncle Charlie:    Now,  getting back to the story.   So, there I was, holding my friends head in my hands, and  the voice said.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Bring it to me.

Charlie:  I can’t see very well beyond the campfire.  I’m walking to the sound of your voice.

Mysterious Voice #1:  I’m right here, in the shadows.  Bring it.

Charlie:  Well,  here it is.  I can’t see you, but I can feel your hands;  they’re rough, and cracked, like old leather.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Life is harsh here in the Dark Woods.

Charlie:  Have you tried moisturizer?

Mysterious Voice #1:  We don’t get to the store very often.

Mysterious Voice #2:  I told you about Amazon Prime.  We could get anything we want delivered right here.

Charlie:  He’s right you know.  They even have drones.  No driver, just a little automated flying thingy, delivers the package right here, or wherever your address is.

Mysterious Voice #2:  Ooh, a drone.    I would love to see a drone.

Mysterious Voice #1: Silence.  I am not interested in drones or moisturizer.  You will hand over your trade item please.

Charlie:  There it is, take it.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Yes, very fine.

Charlie:  Do you mind telling me  what are you going to do with it?

Mysterious Voice #1:  We are going to eat it.

Charlie:  I might have known.    Well, I might as well know this too; how are you going to prepare it?

Mysterious Voice #1:  Oh, I don’t know, a little seasoning, perhaps some olives, and tomato, and balsamic vinegar.

Charlie:  Balsamic vinegar?  Joe would appreciate that.  He favored balsamic vinegar.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Would you care to join us?

Charlie:  I don’t think I could.  Not after what I’ve done.  Look at him, lying there.  Poor Joe.  I’m sorry old friend.  I suppose I should do something with the rest of Joe’s…  You might as well have it.

Mysterious Voice #1  Are you sure?  We only gave you half a head.

Charlie”  Yes.  Yes, I’m sure Joe would have wanted it this way.  You might as well have the other half too, as long as you eat it while it’s fresh.

Mysterious Voice #1:  This is most generous of you.

Charlie:  That’s all right.  Besides, Joe has another one at home, even bigger than this.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Even bigger?

Charlie:  Yes, he’s been growing it for some time.  He tried to keep it a secret, but I found out, I’ve  been watching it for weeks now.  Joe’s other head is huge, practically monstrous.

Mysterious Voice #1:  It would have to be, to be bigger than this.

Charlie:  But completely organic.  No chemicals, no sir, not in Joe’s garden.  He always has been the better gardener, and I’ve known it all along.  Every year we find a new place to get away and have our own private home grown salad competition.  I always find a way to keep it close, sometimes I even win, but this year I knew I didn’t stand a chance, not with lettuce like that.

Lou:  WAIT A MINUTE!  WAIT A MINUTE!

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Lou, what is it?

Lou:  You mean the whole time all those Creeper Keeper people wanted was for this Charlie guy to give them a head of lettuce?

Uncle Charlie:  That’s right Lou.

Lou:  And this Charlie guy, which was really you,  took the axe to cut it in half and his friend Joe was so upset when he knew what Charlie, that is you, were going to do with the axe that he passed out?

Uncle Charlie.  You’ve followed the tale completely Lou, why do you ask?

Lou:  Why do I ask?  I’ll tell you why do I ask.  Because I’ve been hiding under my sleeping bag for twenty minutes all because a couple of guys are gonna trade a half a head of cabbage for a half a head of lettuce, that’s why do I ask.  You call that a scary story?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Lou.  It did scare you, didn’t it?

Lou: You bet it did.

Bonita:  Then why are you so upset Lou?

Lou:  Because I’m  ashamed of myself.  I’m just a big scaredy-cat.

Uncle Charlie:  That’s nothing to be ashamed of Lou.  The story was supposed to scare you.  Look at brave Huntz, wedged between his two cousins.  You think he wasn’t scared?

Lou:  What about Bonita and Joan?  They don’t look scared at all.

Uncle Charlie:  What about it girls?

Joan:  Well, I might have been a little scared at first, before I figured it out.

Bonita:  I have to confess I was just a teensy bit frightened when I thought you really–oh but of course it was all such a funny story.  You really had Lou and Huntz going.

Huntz:  That’s all right girls, you can let go of my arms now, I’m starting to loose circulation, and please take your fingernails with you.

Uncle Charlie:  See Lou, everyone was scared.  There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Lou: And nothing bad really happened.  You just told the story to make us think bad things were happening, but it was just the way you told it, just to make it seem scary, right.

Uncle Charlie:  That’s right Lou.

Lou: And those Creeper Keeper guys.  They weren’t really bad?

Uncle Charlie:  Not at all.  The nicest fellows actually.  You remember that deserted looking farm stand Joe and I saw by the road?  That was theirs.  We’re friends on Facebook now, and they even have Amazon Prime.  I helped them go organic, and their deserted farm stand is now a thriving organic produce and health care market.  They even sell all natural skin moisturizers.

Lou:  And Joe, he was just passed out, but he woke up and you guys are still friends?

Uncle Charlie:  No.  I’m afraid Joe’s  is the one part of the story that did not turn out happy.  Seems he never did recover from the shock of seeing what I did to his head of lettuce with that axe.  Oh, we went back home as friends all right, but I could tell right away that something was different.  Joe was never the same gardener as he had been before that night.  His other head of lettuce, the one that was even bigger than the one I traded, it soon turned brown and died.  No matter how he tried, Joe just couldn’t get a good yield after that.  He had lost his green thumb for good.

Bonita:  That’s sad.  I feel sorry for Joe.

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, and that isn’t the worst of it.  Joe blamed me for causing him to loose his gardening skill.  I guess he is right in a way, but he swore revenge on me.  Started following me around with a sharp axe, garden tools, and the like, and said he would make me pay for what I had done.

Bonita: Make you pay?  Did he say how?

Uncle Charlie:  He didn’t need to.  I could read the look in his eyes.  Then there was time with the reaping sickle.  I barely managed to dodge that one.

Joan:  A reaping sickle?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, that would have made my little story tonight seem like a fairy tale in comparison.  But, we don’t have to worry about Joe anymore.  It’s not likely that he will escape.

Lou:  Escape?

Uncle Charlie: Yes, from the mental institution.

Joan: The mental institution?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes.  For the criminally insane.  Oh don’t look so worried.  No one has escaped from that institution in years.

Huntz:  That’s sure a relief.

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, it was many years ago.  I would have been about your age, in fact, and I was quite concerned when my Uncle Fred, your Grandpa Fred, told me about it because, well the place is just a mile or so from here, which is why this area is so deserted, and we were camping not far from here.  Not far at all,  in fact I think it might have been this very spot.  I do believe I recognize that tree with the huge gash in the trunk.  That’s where Uncle Fred went to find out what was making those strange noises in the dark.  Of course the stains on the bark have faded over the years, but I think that is the tree–

Lou:  Uncle Charlie?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Lou.

Lou:  Please tell me you still raise a garden.

Uncle Charlie:  Of course I do Lou.

Lou: And Uncle Charlie.

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Lou?

Lou:  Please tell me you brought cabbages with you tonight, and that that is not your friend Crazy Joe hurling them out of the woods.

Uncle Charlie:  What?  One, two, three four cabbages, all chopped clean in half.! Kids?

Bonita, Joan, Huntz, Lou:  Yes?

Uncle Charlie:  RUN!!

All:  WAAAAAAA!!

 

Epilogue and Editor’s note.  Every person in this scenario made it safely home at the scheduled end of the camping trip.  Joe really didn’t go crazy and swear revenge on Uncle Charlie, but he was hiding out in the bushes, hurling cabbages as he and Charlie had pre-arranged.  The camping trip became an annual tradition for Charlie and his nieces and nephews, and Charlie devoted much time and energy  to come up with new Campfire Creepers for his beloved family.

This scenario draws inspiration from several sources, notably the comedy-mystery movies of the 1940’s, also many of the mystery radio shows of the Golden Age of Radio,  from which I learned the device of having the characters describe their own actions in such deliberate detail.  The Sirius/XM channel Radio Classics, hosted by Greg Bell (gregbellmedia.com),  has been a great boon in providing listening opportunities for this important but sadly mostly forgotten form of story telling and entertainment.   I have also drawn some inspiration from a recent decade:  the Nickelodeon animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender,  created by Michael Dante DiMartino  and  Brian Konietzko,  and the  Puppetmaster episode  in which the main characters are encamped one night.  Sokka has been trying without success to frighten the others with ghost stories, when  Katara   says she remembers a true story that she tells with chilling effect.

Bonita is for Bonita Granville, whose many screen credits include playing Nancy Drew in several Nancy Drew  mystery motion pictures in the 1930’s

Joan is for Joan Davis, comic actress who appeared in many motion pictures, including the  1941 Abbott and Costello comedy-mystery  Hold that Ghost.

Huntz is for Huntz Hall of the Dead End Kids/ Bowery Boys team, whose films include several comedy-mysteries.

Lou if for Lou Costello, of the comedy team Abbott and Costello, whose film credits included several comedy-mysteries, including the aforementioned Hold that Ghost.

Thanks for reading.  I hope this scenario provides chills and laughs and a shared experience for you, your family, and friends.

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Among the many gigantic figures of human history, few are more known and reviled than the leader of the National Socialist German Workers Party  during World War Two.  While his actions and policies continue to draw condemnation from around the world today, this may overshadow the fact that many of the technological and military advances of Adolf Hitler’s Germany were ahead of their time.   For example, Germany produced the first  operational jet powered combat aircraft, and the first  guided missile.  After the war,  forces from both the free West and from behind the soon to close Iron Curtain competed to gain access to and mastery of the technologies that had been developed in Nazi laboratories.

Although neither he nor his policies are as well-known as the Fuhrer, the writings and actions of Paidolf Hipstler, an  idealogical  follower of Hitler’s,  deserves attention from anyone interested in protecting humanity in general and Western Civilization in particular.  Not much is known about Paidolf Hipstler:  his place of birth, childhood, and education are shrouded in mystery.  What is known is that he has developed and deployed his own advanced weapon system. Drawing inspiration from the infamous V-2 rockets and  V-1 flying bombs of WWII,  Hipstler has dubbed his project the  Dirty Flying f-bomb.

Many people are familiar with  the  use  of V-1 and V-2 missiles against England.   Hitler also used these weapons extensively against the port city of Antwerp in an effort to disrupt the flow of supplies into the city and to retard and  reverse the Allied advance. (www.v2rocket.com)

In practice, the original V-missiles were an early sort of terror weapon;  their guidance systems were as yet unable to provide a great deal of precision, which made them of little use at striking specific military targets. Instead the weapons were more or less aimed at a large population center where they brought death and destruction to the lives and property of the people below. The V-2’s almost always struck without warning, sometimes coming down on a crowded cinema, killing hundreds; other times landing in an orchard, meadow or empty school yard and thankfully causing no casualties. A conventional manned bomber flight was still capable of locating and hitting specific targets with greater precision than were the V-weapons. B y 1944 however, the Allied air forces had won control of the air, and Germany could no longer expect to launch successful air strikes using conventional manned bomber aircraft. Flying higher and faster than Allied interceptor aircraft, the V-2 was a way for Hitler to continue to launch air strikes against the Allies. (www,v2rocket.com)

While much of the story of the Dirty Flying f-bomb  (DFFB) and Hipstler’s plans for it  is  told with remarkable candor  in the pages of his autobiography, Mind Struggle,  it is in his unpublished notes and papers that we find revealed the true extent and complexity of his plan.   It is likely these papers were not intended by Hipstler to be made public, and they came to light only through a series of improbable events:

Hipstler was attending a clandestine meeting of like-minded aspiring world leaders, despots and demagogues at a remote, undisclosed location somewhere in the swamp country of South Carolina.  To increase security, all of the attendees were flown by helicopter to the meeting individually, having agreed before hand on a pilot all believed they could trust.  When the pilot departed after the final run, he took with him all of their cell phones and electronic devices, leaving them totally isolated, with  provisions for four days, and a rendezvous to return at noon on the fourth day.  He didn’t show up at noon, or even by  nightfall of the fourth day, and  the following morning, out of food and low on potable water,  Hipstler and his colleagues were compelled to trek through miles of unfamiliar swamp in search of a town or road.  For two days and nights they slogged through the swamp.    Their clothes became torn, tattered, and caked with mud and dried slime.   They had no food,  except what snakes and insects they could catch, hardly any drinking water, and nothing but a stinking swamp for sanitation or hygiene.  Although their trail became littered with the folders, binders, handbags, purses, and discarded garments of his exhausted colleagues,  Hipstler held a steady grip on the portfolio containing his notes and papers.  Finally, cursing the pilot, cursing the swamp, and  cursing each other, they  emerged from the fetid morass on the blazing hot afternoon of the third day onto a road near Myrtle Beach,  where they were mistaken for a group of  Occupy protesters who were believed to have just arrived to demonstrate against the miniature golf attractions in the area, and detained by the local sheriff.    In the ensuing mayhem  Hipstler lost the portfolio  containing his notes and papers.   The portfolio  and all of Hipstler’s papers were discovered by an astute journalist sent from Scotland to cover the miniature golf/occupy story, who recognized  in them something hot, and thanks to whom we  know the  side of Paidolf  Hipstler not meant for public consumption.

With both his published and unpublished works now at our disposal, the thinking of Paidolf Hipstler is more clear to us than ever before, including the plans and deployment strategy for the DFFB, as well as outlines of both his immediate and ultimate goals.   Like the V-1 and V-2 missiles that inspired them, the Dirty Flying f-bomb was designed to bring death and destruction.  However, unlike the V-missiles, which were aimed at physical persons and property, DFFB’s target the minds and hearts of their intended victims; and whereas Hitler used  V-missiles  to disrupt the flow of supplies and retard and reverse the advance of approaching armies, Hipstler plan is to use DFFB’s to disrupt the flow of ideas and retard and reverse the advance of civilization.

Hipstler is careful to distinguish between DFFB’s and what he terms “Innocent or innocuous outburst of foul language.”    He points out with noticeable pride in revealing his brainchild that what sets a DFFB apart from such outbursts is the “Dirty” aspect of a Dirty Flying f-bomb.  The word “Dirty” is not used here to indicate  the content of the language, that is what the “f-” is meant for.  Hipstler tells us that  ” Dirty” in this sense  indicates  the intent  to spread toxic material and cause contamination, similar to the way dirty is used in “dirty bomb.”   To fully grasp  Hipstler’s  meaning,  you can read at www.nationalterroralert.com that  “A dirty bomb is designed to spread radioactive material and contaminate a small area.”   and also that “The main purpose of a dirty bomb is to frighten people and make buildings or land unusable for a long time.”

One of Hipslter’s  immediate objectives is to use DFFB’s to arrest the mental and emotional development of their targets  at an immature level.    Hipstler gives an example of an adolescent male, say in sixth or seventh grade.  The first time he hears a joke with an f-bomb, he is likely to find it appealing, if only because of  the shock value.   (Hipstler also states in Mind Struggle that the impact of that first f-bomb is  greater when delivered by an adult, especially a media figure.   He cleverly unleashes many of his DFFB’s through just such mediums and targets them specifically at younger victims.)  Duly impressed, the adolescent male starts to deliver his own DFFB’s, incorporating them into his everyday manner of speech.

Here Hipstler’s   reveals  the deeper diabolical complexity of his strategy, for instead of merely spreading the use of DFFB’s, he actively persuades the persons using them that anyone annoyed, offended, put off, or otherwise not surrendering to the barrage of DFFB’s is oppressive, out of touch, outdated, and narrow- minded.   The target-cum-user  will be constantly reminded of this “aggressive” opposition to his self- expression.  According to Hipstler’s master plan, instead of naturally outgrowing the desire to use DFFB’s( and perhaps even develop a vocabulary that transcends the limits of four-letter words),  the example adolescent male  moves into a sort of juvenile adulthood, passionately engaged in a made up struggle to express himself against his benign neighbors, who have been effectively transformed  by Hipstler and his minions into oppressive monsters to be opposed at every turn.  In his notes, Hipstler’s makes the following assertion, “Control the emotions and you control the masses.  Arouse their anger. Feed their anger.  Direct their anger at the object of your choosing.”   Through media manipulation,  meticulously guided and nurtured ignorance,  and ruthless determination,   freedom of speech is  corrupted to  cover any form of self- expression.  Eventually even  assertions that do not correspond to reality are celebrated and protected by Hipstler and his followers as expressions of individuality.  Communication becomes meaningless while scientific discovery  and discussion of observable or measurable data becomes nonsensical, if not impossible, when forced to yield to such assertions. In the meantime, the affected juvenile adult is now consumed  with a drive for self- expression and a near fanatical hostility to anyone he imagines may show any objection to his expressions of identity.   Hipstler predicts the subject juvenile adult, and millions more groomed just  like him will gladly  acquiesce when the state appoints itself as protector and guarantor of this “right.”

Death and destruction are the intended consequences of this plan,  although with a new twist.  Unlike previous conflicts, property is not destroyed but  confiscated whenever anyone does not actively agree with the official state doctrine.  Death is aimed at rational discourse and intelligible, meaningful language.  Scientific discovery, and both scientific and philosophical certainty become collateral casualties.  Following  the death of certainty will come the ultimate death of any human rights.  Productive, peaceful lives and a functional civil society are targeted for destruction.

At this point we witness  the final phase of Hipstler’s plan as society  devolves to a condition similar to that of Germany after The Great War of 1914-1918 . Just as Adolf Hitler emerged from the tragic chaos, darkness, and despair of post World War One Germany to rise to enormous power; so  Paidolf  Hipstler  believes he is destined to emerge from this  deliberate chaos, darkness and despair, to rise to even greater power.  Using the narcissism and agitated emotions of at least one generation against themselves, playing on their passions as a virtuoso on a stringed instrument;  Hipstler  projects he will easily lead them into submission and  total subjugation,  succeeding where Hitler failed, and forging a thousand year yoke of iron on their hearts and minds, and on the lives of millions yet unborn.