New Book Recommends Credit Union

A new book, written chapter by chapter and posted in recommends folks pull their money out of the big banks and put it in Credit Unions. The book is called “Gypsies of the New Millennium” and is being serialized on the, a website that is dedicated to people who are forced to live in their vehicles or RVs. More and more people and families are being foreclosed and have nowhere to live, creating a huge “underclass” who have been slammed by the criminal antics of the big banks. Credit Unions, on the other hand, are much safer and controlled by the local community. Very few of them got suckered in the Derivatives game

The book is here:

Boozing Bankers and Burning Banks

Boozing Bankers, Burning Banks and a Bombastic Bard in a 2-Day

Battle in Los Angeles.


Sinister bankers startled as China warns: “the wages of sin is Death.”


by Robert S. Newport, Jr


It began on Thursday, May 10th, a hot summer-like day in Los Angeles. An army of arrogant elites descended on the City, headed for a big money blowout in the Valley side of the Hollywood Hills. The elegant stars of Hollywood, the financiers, and the spin-doctors all rubbed elbows in a $40,000 a plate orgy. The big man himself came into town with an enormous entourage, heading up the canyons where he would collect his tribute, a rumored $15 million dollar treasure, a partial reward both for services rendered and services to be rendered in the future. Ah yes, life was good that day for the elites and plutocrats in the cool hillside canyons. But down below, on the hot baking floor of the San Fernando Valley, things weren’t so nice.


A large chunk of the San Fernando Valley, as well as the pleasant canyons connecting the Valley with Beverly Hills were sealed off by thousands of police. The hot 5pm drive-time became gridlock. As the heat of the day simmered up from the asphalt, hundreds of thousands of motorists became stuck. People couldn’t get home, couldn’t get to work, every major street in the area sealed off tight. Even the buses were re-routed, without any notice, stranding thousands waiting at the bus stops in a no-man’s land inside the perimeter. The freeways jammed up and died. The peasants suffered while the elites of the city and their federal masters partied their brains out up the hill. The question of the day became, once again: What was Obama thinking? He’s done this to us at least twice before, an imperial visit that shuts down a large part of the City, creating gridlock and discomfiture for hundreds of thousands of potential voters. Does he ever think about the suffering citizens on the steaming streets choking on clouds of stagnant fumes when he cruises into town? Hey, the oil companies won’t complain. How many millions more do they make when half the city’s motorists are sitting in gridlock with their engines running, going nowhere? Maybe he’s totally oblivious to it, after all, he’s not here as a tourist, he’s coming to pick up a pile of dough that the elites have ready for him. And the trip, the police, the security, the entourage, everything is payed for by the very serfs who are down below stuck in the mess.


But the story doesn’t end there. As night fell and the politicos headed back to Washington with their loot, they were totally unaware what the next dawn would bring. The wind from the Western Pacific was coming, a hurricane of hell was on the way. And from the East, from Paris, a bombastic bard was on an airplane heading for L.A. with a message of doom to deliver to the the cabal of bankers who are now ruling the Western World. The two forces would meet Friday night, May 11, in Los Angeles, and open a vortex over the City, unleashing a new kind of warfare. Call it a war of magic, a psychological war of words and images, a new psychic war of avatars to be fought in cyber-space; call it what you will, it began the next night at the most unlikely spot you could ever imagine.


In a small alley way in the middle of L.A.’s Chinatown sits a very plain storefront, now converted to an Art Gallery. The Charlie James Gallery is run by an anglo guy who looks like he was a linebacker with the Philadelphia Eagles. He must have searched L.A. for a hundred years to find this spot, conspicuous because it’s an art gallery jammed between Chinese restaurants and tourist shops, but on the other hand a place that’s totally hidden from the world it represents, and from the patrons you would assume to be called its potential customers. It was here, in this hidden spot in Chinatown, the one place in the City that could be juxtaposed with the lavish Italian-style Hollywood Hills Mansion where the events of the proceeding day took place. At 8pm the twisting vortex began to open. A flash mob of mainly angry anglos descended into the narrow Chinatown alley. Waiting for them, with the doors open, was Alex Schaefer, a local artist, with the gallery walls loaded with bundles of artistic dynamite: vivid colorful paintings of Goldman Sachs party girls and boozing bankers on one side of the gallery wall, facing an array of startling bright paintings of burning banks on the opposite side of the premises. The flash mob was stunned. Schaefer’s paintings were a public reflection of their darkest secret thoughts. To the millions of Americans who have lost their homes in the foreclosure crises, the millions robbed of their life savings, the seniors eating cat-food, the homeless in camps a few blocks south of Chinatown, these were the images of their secret id, they all dreamt at one time or another of burning down the hated banks, and now here it was, in their face, the dancing red and yellow flames standing out against a whitewashed wall.


The banks weren’t really burning, of course, and nobody around was recommending it. What was launched that night was a new kind of war on the banks, a psychotronic war, fought with mind-control methods. You don’t really burn them down, you show the images of them burning down. The result in the mass consciousness of the population is the same: we see them burning down in our mental imagery, therefore they are now a heap of ashes and they are gone. Put your money somewhere else, otherwise your paper dollars will be worthless ash mixed into the flaming furnace. But the mob was not just in Chinatown to look at pictures of burning banks, they were waiting for the arrival of a financial guru from Europe, an American ex-patriot, a former Wall Street insider, a bombastic bard bringing a burning message of doom from China via Paris. They didn’t have long to wait.


Max Keiser burst into the packed Gallery room like a tornado touching down in Wichita. The mob screamed and cheered, clapped and hooted. Here was their man, a guy who could give them answers. A guy who had been to Wall Street. Someone who has been in the trenches with the very banksters he is now fighting in a holy war to save what’s left of the financial system. No entourage here, just Max and his beautiful, brilliant partner Stacy Herbert. That was it. And no chairs for anyone, no frills in Chinatown, baby, you stand and you listen up. The mob had cameras and tape recorders and they got their fill. The big bombshell was first. It was a message from China, being delivered by an American from Paris to a mob in an alley in Chinatown. The Chinese government was done with the corruption of these tapeworm bankers lodged in the guts of the world’s population. They are making a statement, and setting an example, the first of many. The unlucky first victim is a woman banker, a vicious bilker of 50 some odd millions she stole from the Chinese people. Her punishment is death. No messing around, no crooked judges, no slick defense lawyers, no years of dragged on court proceedings. The Chinese death van is on the way, and when it arrives, she will be dragged in screaming. Death will be quick, and some rumors are that her organs will shortly thereafter be available for purchase.


The mob let out a gasp and was temporarily silent, but then cheered and hooted. They knew the meaning of this missive. It’s like the old crime movies you watched on tv. The mafia boss calls in some guy who’s refusing to pay his gambling debts. He sits the guy down, and while he is talking to him he is petting his cute little pet dog, the one thing in the world that he loves and cares about more than anything else. When he is finished talking he hands the little doggie to his henchman Big Guido, gives a nod, and Guido quickly snaps the doggie’s neck, killing it instantly. He looks at the gambler, it’s that look, you know, I just killed the one thing in the world I loved the most, now what do you think I’m going to do to you?


The message from China is clear: this is what happens to thieves, to parasitic bankers. You cheat us, you cheat the people, and we Chinese will kill you. Who knows what is going on behind the secret locked chambers of the Chinese government’s judicial system. Are they getting ready to issue arrest warrants for the Goldman Sachs scumbags who have been flooding the world with trillions of dollars of worthless derivatives? Things are getting ominous. The Europeans are fighting in the streets, the populations of several countries now in full battle for their survival against their appointed Goldman Sachs rulers. The Euro elites, the Bilderbergers and their boys want to re-establish a kind of modern feudalism. Forget about the “isms” of the past: communism, fascism, democracy. The new buzzword among the plutocrats is “feudalism”, the end of the middle class and the creation of a monster banking state, the Austerity State, with only two classes, the few elite rich and the poor serfs, all ruled by appointed and anointed bankers. Max Keiser brought this message to the mob in Chinatown. Wake up, folks, what’s happening in Europe will soon be exported to America. The United States of Austerity is on the way.


Keiser held the mob in the palm of his hand for almost 2 hours. He screeched, he screamed, he told jokes, he threatened, he hurled worthless “Obama Dollars” at them. His message bursts out of his gut, a raw shrill at times, electrifying the mob. Buy Gold. Buy Silver. Chase and the other banks are on the rocks. Their shorting of precious metals will doom them. The big Central Banks are now also starting to buy gold and silver. The big move is coming soon. The end of these parasites is coming, a monster financial collapse. If you own gold and silver, you will survive the crash. Chase just announced a 2 billion dollar loss on derivative trades. Some say it might be 18 billion! These staggering losses cannot go on forever. The prospect of a wild inflation because of the trillions of dollars of fiat money the Federal Reserve is printing is a fear gnawing into the brains of the poor and middle class. They already feel it, the price of gas going up, food going up, unemployment going up, taxes, fees and fines exploding, and even apartment rents on the way up because the dispossessed former home owners still have to live somewhere. It’s the big squeeze, and it will be followed by the big collapse. That’s the message heard from Max in Chinatown on the night of May 11th.


Oh, and one more thing. Gutsy guys like Alex Jones and Jesse Ventura have said they will stay and fight. Not me, says Keiser. I moved to Paris and I’m staying there. Forget about this place, there’s a big storm coming.



More Burning Bank Art

Painting of Chase Bank Brightly Burning. This is another of Schaefer's Gallery display. His paintings are reflective of the rage the population has against the big banks. Millions of people have lost their homes and their life savings, "legally" stolen by the big banksters.

99% Demonstration in Pasadena

Protestors at Bank of America

Put Your Money in a Credit Union

Groups of activists representing the 99% of all Americans held a protest in Pasadena Califonia on May 9, 2012.  Lina Bird explains the corruption and unethical practices of the big banks. Click on link to watch video:

To find some friendly credit unions and banks click on the link below.  There’s also a checklist of things to do when moving your bank account.





Credit Union FAQ

What You Need To Know About Credit Unions

by Mike Scott

When you join a credit union, in effect, you become one of the owners.  Unlike a bank, where you are just another annoying customer, credit unions are owned by the members and have a voice in their operations.