Were the demented dictator, Vladimir Putin, suddenly to grow spiritual eyes, he would realise just how futile his present gambit is. Putin, like many demented dictators, is dangerously close to his grave, but he thinks that he sits atop the world as The Chosen One destined to restore the broken Soviet Empire. But empires, with the lone exception of the Roman Empire, are never successfully brought back. In other words: empire recreation is the job of fools. For, let us keep in mind, the guns and bombs in Ukraine, the bitter boots on the ground drunk in Meshech illusions and combated by a frightened nation—the bitter complaints about NATO, the West and its overreach, the recall of the Cuban missile crisis; in short, everything about the genocide decreed by the Kremlin—is all about Empire. Putin, pursued by the same demons of power lust that drove Saddam Hussein and Benito Mussolini to their graves, thinks he can bring back a dead Empire with bullying, but the real question he should consider, namely what and how he will feel when death closes in on his veins and blood in the years just ahead, has completely escaped his attention. Sadam Hussein dreamed of bringing back the Babylonian Empire, but he died grumbling about Western injustice. As I have always warned: let the power-drunk remember the power-drowned.
I have a reason for going this route. Antiochus Epiphanes, master of the Seleucid Empire, a Syrian prince who killed the Jews for sport, learned the truth shortly before he died. According to the second Book of Maccabees, IX: 4-28, Antiochus met his untimely death while on a genocide mission. He had “commanded his chariotman to drive without ceasing,” intent on invading Jerusalem and making it a common burying place of the Jews. But “as soon as he had spoken these words, a pain of the bowels that was remediless came upon him, and sore torments of the inner parts…He fell down from his chariot, carried violently; so that having a sore fall, all the members of his body were much pained. …The worms rose up out of the body of this wicked man, and whiles he lived in sorrow and pain, his flesh fell away, and the filthiness of his smell was noisome to all his army.” Antiochus, purulent with “pain of the bowels” and “sore torments of the inner parts”, emitted “intolerable stink.” He literally smelled himself, as the Yoruba would say, yet at one time he had greater grandeur than the murderer in Moscow.
Years before Antiochus, Alexander the Great, widely regarded as the greatest military tacticians that ever lived, had learnt the greatest lesson of his life on his deathbed. His three ultimate wishes: that the best doctors should carry his coffin, that his accumulated wealth be scattered on the way to the cemetery; and that his hands should be hung outside the coffin for all to see. His objective: to prove that even the world’s best doctors cannot cure death, that wealth acquired on earth stays on earth and, finally, that everyone leaves this world empty. Adolf Hitler learned that lesson too late. On April 30, 1945, the German Chancellor, the man who killed millions of people preaching the superiority of his Aryan race, drank poison and then put a bullet to his dizzy head in a bunker under his headquarters in Berlin. The callous killer did not have the courage to die under the sun: he died within the bowels of the earth, and I am yet to see the “1,000-year” Reich that he articulated with maniacal fervor.
No killer wants a sword brandished in front of him. And so, faced with the same guns with which he had made mincemeat of many for 42 years, Libya strongman Muammar Gaddafi bellowed in supplication: “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” He had dismembered dissidents during his brutal reign. But he died like a dog on the streets of Sirte, learning the most valuable lesson of his life just before he breathed his last in a filth-laden drainage pipe. As many people are no doubt well aware, Italy’s Benito Mussolini’s dream of bringing back the Roman Empire collapsed, taking his soul to Hades. In 1945 he was killed for his grievous crimes, together with his 33-year-old mistress, Clara Petacci. Dictators cannot do without mistresses and I bet that Putin is right now having a lot of bedroom conferences to bolster his illusions of Emperorship. But he will come to a shameful end, like Mussolini’s corpse which had no rest: residents of Milan hurled invectives and vegetables at it. They literally violated it. A woman even donated five bullets to the corpse, crying: “Five shots for my five assassinated sons!” Back home, a junior moron, Sani Abacha, maximum dictator and mass murderer, died unsung, mourned only by his palace courtiers, none of whom today lives a life worthy of mention.
Let no one panic about Russian nukes: they are for none but that very nation. The Third World War, the war that many people mention flippantly, can never be between Russia and any nation or group of nations: Russia is a mere decoy. The Third World War is between the West, the filthy, wild West, and the East. The chief demon, the arrowhead of that war, carries a Bible and wears a cassock. The East provoked the West recently with Covid, but its real role in prophecy is to confront the West and bring this present world to its knees. Because the West is the seat of Lucifer himself, there is no possible way in which the Meshech Bear can win the war it fantasises about. Putin the Invader will, one of these days, invade a nation dwelling in quiet, and reap for himself the wrath of the Almighty God and the nukes the West is currently preparing. Make no mistake about it: the Soviet Union will never come back. As they say in Yoruba, a masquerade’s festival has its time limit. I say again: empire rebuilding is the job of fools. The Roman Empire, now the European Union, is for prophetic design. Putin is a moron.
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“It is gladdening that only six months after that memorable event, the Minister of Interior is back in Enugu to perform another significant and symbolic ceremony. This time, the Minister accompanied by the Acting Comptroller General of Immigration, is in the Coal City to unveil the enhanced E-Passport and Commission the Passport Production Centre for the South East situated in Enugu within this Complex.”
Speaking also, the Acting Comptroller General enthused that the people of the South East can now rejoice, pointing out that it was not that his Service oblivious of the suffering of the people but that time and resources had not permitted earlier action.
He commended Gov Ugwuanyi for his support and assistance to the State Command that had culminated in the realization of the project.
Responding, Aregbesola showered encomium on Ugwuanyi who he described as his good friend and one who has been of immense assistance to the Immigration Service in Enugu state.
The minister said not only does South East have a passport production centre within reach but also that the people now have access to an array of choices of the enhanced E-Passport that will aid their globe-trotting disposition.
and then