But when Robert began to change, I saw the face of Fascism in my own home, hatred arrogance cruelty. I saw what German women were facing, I saw the enemy.
The night of the accident, I stole his keys, came in here and opened this, this is what I found, the key to Robert Forrest’s fascist organization, of course they didn't call it fascism, they painted it red white and blue and called it Americanism.
In here are the funds to see it through, fantastic amounts ascribed by a few private individuals to whom money didn't seem to mean anything anymore but who wanted political power. Knew they could never get it by democratic means. Here’s a list of their names.
This was the essence of their plan. Here are some articles ready for release to stir up all these little hatreds of the whole nation against each other. This was an article to be published in an antisemetic paper attacking the Jews. This was to be used in the Farmers Gazette to stir them up against the city dwellers. Here’s one attacking the Catholics. Anti-Negro, anti labor, anti trade union, subtle appeal to the Ku Klux Klan.
Here’s a- here’s a list of newspaper editors who either sought to occupy public office or sought to dictate who should occupy public office and when they failed, felt that the public was a great stupid beast.
Here’s a list of men who served their country in the last war and were failures in business and again longed for the power of rank and the prestige of the uniform. In there are the names and addresses of the men who were designated to be America’s first storm troopers.
But what was really shocking to me was the complete cynicism of the plan. Each of these groups was simply to be used until its usefulness was exhausted. Hates were to be played against hates, if one group threatened to get too powerful, it would be killed off by another group. And in the end, all these poor little people who never knew to what purpose they were lending themselves would be in the same chains, cowed and enslaved, with Robert Forrest and his handful of power thirsty henchmen cracking the whip.
He was brave and noble and immortal and I was so proud. But he changed I'll tell you, not all at once but gradually. It couldn't have been because he was bitter or disappointed, his life had been only triumph. And the tears could still come into his eyes, and the catch in his wonderful voice when he spoke to the people.
Perhaps he loved the people. Perhaps he loved them. But didn't trust them to think for themselves. Or perhaps he was insatiable. And wanted even more power to add to his glory, I don't know.
But he envied the dictators and thought that all governments by the people and for the people were soon to perish from the Earth.
Hatred arrogance cruelty.
A face of a man who no longer believed in god but only in himself.
And he held me in his arms and I knew that it was no longer a wife that he wanted but sons and his eyes told me that I was a poor creature that couldn't give him sons.
and I wrote on my blog: "I have a feeling the person who got this video blocked had nothing to do with the 1943 production. A taste of what life will be like if Trump gets elected."