Saturday, August 27, 2016

Rest In Peace, Gladys Hooper, 113-1/2
"The Last of the Summer British Wine"

The United Kingdom's oldest person has died at the age of 113.

Queen Elizabeth II, herself is next in age...

Gladys Hooper from the Isle of Wight, who had celebrated her 113th birthday on 18 January, passed away at Highfield Nursing Home in Ryde at lunchtime.

The former concert pianist was born in south-east London in 1903, the same year the Wright brothers made the first powered aircraft flight.

The great-grandmother was the country's most senior supercentenarian, according to the Gerontology Research Group.

Her son Derek Hermiston, age 85, said: "She just faded - 113-and-a-half is a good old age."

We saw her this morning,
she seemed reasonably well,
she was sleeping.

"We had left her for just about an hour when they called us to tell us she had passed away."

Last year, Mrs Hooper broke a Guinness World Record when she became the oldest person in the world - at 112 - to have a hip operation.

She moved into the nursing home following the operation.

Mrs Hooper was widowed in 1977 when her husband, Leslie, who had been a pilot in the two world wars, died.

a (Real) Tale of a Fateful Trip...

Life imitates art.  Happily, the "SOS" message written in the sand, really did work.

Lovingly lifted from Hawaii News Now, this good news:

Two stranded mariners are safe Friday after crews spotted their “SOS” in the sand on uninhabited island in Micronesia.

(Earlier reports of seven, stranded castaways was apparently incorrect~)

A U.S. Navy aircraft crew spotted the couple on the beach, and relayed their location to the Coast Guard in Guam. The two, who had limited supplies and no emergency equipment, were picked up and transferred to a patrol boat.

The Coast Guard got a report about the couple's 18-foot vessel going missing on Aug. 19.

The two departed Weno Island on Aug. 17, and were expected to arrive at their destination to Tamatam Island the next day.

Over seven days, the Coast Guard and other agencies searched nearly 17,000 square miles for the two.

On Wednesday, a ship noticed flashing lights emitting from the uninhabited Chuuk State island where the two were later found. The U.S. Navy was alerted and patrolled the island when they spotted the survivors -- and their message -- on the beach.

Please forgive me for my fixation with
the "Gilligan's Island" TV series.
I can't explain it~

Exclusively, here on Your Local Malcontent's little Bloggie, is the LOST, ORIGINAL "Gilligan's Island" THEMESONG,


   I think that's Ricky Ricardo singing the words here???


Friday, August 26, 2016

It's the Story
of a Lovely Lady...

I had the most disturbing insight earlier today, and it was horrible to witness.

Like most disturbing insights, this one came to me in a thunderous flash of seeing it all-at-once, which is never ever good.  Here is what came to me:

U.S. President Huma Abedin

all of the fluctuations are there, extra-Constitutionally, historically, and emotionally::
Huma Abedin is the forlorn wife of a sex-addict, born outside the boundaries of the United States, has stood in the way of anyone attempting to expose the sexual peccadillo's her mentor, Hillary Rodham-Clinton has.

She, Huma Abedin, is the most evil one, not Hillary--  
Hillary Rodham Clinton is many things, closeted bull dyke, accomplished liar, murderer, 
blackmail expert, sociopath, but she is not a political genius....  (given her most stupid missteps with government emails,

She needed Bubba,
She eventually, even needed Monica~ in the late 1990s.

She needed Zerobama et. all, to help her limp across her political finish-line.  Because Hillary Clinton is a real nincompoop, a Senatorial carpetbagger, a straggler of coat-tails, AT BEST.

AT WORST, Hillary Rodham Clinton is still a student of the game of U.S. politics; a light-weight fighter in over her head, bewildered by Conference balloons, regardless of her questionable accomplishments as "First Lezzie" of Arkansaw and as Bill's Beard in Washington, D.C.

But back to President Huma Abedin:  This woman is the poison exuded from Hillary's fangs.

Huma's idol could only be the Advisor to controversial leader Zerobama and fellow Shiite bitch, Valerie Jarrett, the Iranian who has infiltrated the U.S. Administrative branch.

The poor, wretched Huma.... 

Abandoned by a really ugly man, her sex-starved Jew husband, and yet coddled by the power hungry idiot named after Sir Edmund Hillary (before Sir Edmund was famous),and became the most fortunate ticket holder of U.S. political history/lottery, the cleverly planned, poison-pill, secret lover of the idiot wife of a horn-dog U.S. President, who married a beard.
Hillary the beard for Bubba, and then later, Huma the carpet nuzzler for Hillary.  Scandals down-windowed from scandals, down-windowed from scandals,  

Thursday, August 25, 2016

IF Given The Choice,

If I had to choose just one 'Unprecedented, Historic, Breaking-News' event to witness this fall
in these united States, 

Here's what I'd easily choose:

And that's all.

cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs cubs

Welcome to Tampa, Candidates

Yesterday, Donald Trump held a yuge rally at the Florida State Fairgrounds in Tampa.

According to their website, the arena where the candidate will speak can hold up to 9,600 people.

The St. Petersburg Times reported that Senator Bernie Sanders held a rally there in the spring which attracted 9,000.

Then, Hillary Clinton held a rally there in July; however I can find no reporting of the size of the crowd that she attracted.  That information may be a classified secret, so naturally, only the Russians
know for sure.

   (But you know me, I am never defeated... I'm Choctaw)
So what I've done here below, is taken a portion of the Clinton rally held at the Florida State Fairgrounds on July 22, 2016 -- Only a portion~!! 97 seconds, in fact -- to gauge the size of her audience, based upon both camera angle sights, and also the crowd noise reaction to her introduction:

And compared it to a similar portion of today's Trump introduction in the same hall.


In fact, night before last, in Austin, Texas, Mr. Trump held a rally at the Luedecke Arena (capacity up to 9,500), and by this photo taken from behind the podium, the place looks packed, for real:

Last of all, a huge rally in Jackson, Mississippi last night, Mr. Trump and special guest, Nigel Farage, spoke before an estimated 11,000 at the Mississippi Coliseum, and blew the roof off the place.

I've been thinking alot about the size of the audiences of the two candidates lately....
The Clinton campaign usually holds rallies in High School gymnasiums, like this one at John Marshall HS, in Cleveland, Ohio recently....  a Google maps inspection of the (ghost) high school in question reveals a dismal optic:

Love the parking lot, in the Lawyers' football field~!!
Yeah, that's right; the John Marshall fighting Lawyers.  ~Perfect.

It's Brutal in Butte

Quit complaining about the weather where you are, cause it's not as bad as it could be.  
For example, take the weather in Butte, Montana yesterday:

Mmmm, Butte Roast

Thursday, August 18, 2016

Wow, man, It's 1967 Again, man
That's Like 100 Years Ago

Everyone Calls Her "Windy"

All free sex, non-judgmental,
The "if it feels good, do it" days are here again.
No worries, someone else will be forced to pay for that~

Groovy scene, man!  And Hillary was there, soaking it all up as a teenager.
Doing drugs, talkin' up Socialism, buring the American flag.

... never believing that they too, would get OLD.
And Wrinkled.  And Past It.

Here's an example of one of those dope-smokin' hippies, who never grew up, never knew what it meant to have a real job, never hired anyone, never met a payroll for which they were responsible:

This Is Hillary's Period, DAMMIT

"Panic mode in, they are," Yoda would say of the enemy on the Dark Side, at a similar stage of the battle in our local galaxy.
 It is really amazing, and so very interesting to watch Democrats squirming like worms in hot ashes, writhing about in abject fear that their reign of illicit governance will soon be over.

Literally, since the Democratic Convention in protest-torn Philadelphia last month, the national Democratic Party is being beaten by hammers coming from every direction, even from within the realm of their anointed leader, Hillary Rodham Clitnon.  

(( and all of their wrath is against the mere candidate, Donald J. Trump, of the loyal opposition.  ---  What if it had been against a true, blue blood Conservative, like Ted Cruz?))

But the Liberals, along with their minions in the American media, are working overtime, fantasizing about what could possibly be the future of the united States of America, if only they can drag Hillary's sick carcass across the finish line in November.

So far, Democratic Media have rigged the polls by over sampling longtime Democratic voters, nearly 2-1, so that it appears that Hillary Clitnon has a large, double-digit lead over Mr. Trump...
Yet observing any public appearance by the two candidates proves that the Donald is bringing in over 10 times the audiences than Hillary is;  why, just yesterday, Hillary had trouble filling the gymnasium of a run-down High School in Cleveland-- if the under-18 student population hadn't been there to fill in the seats, she would not have had 300 people in there.

Whereas, the Donald attracts thousands of eager supporters to
overflow crowds in major sports arenas.

1) the rigged polls, and 2) the obvious lack of supporters at rallies

#3 is very hard for Liberals to cover up (and they only get harder, through # 1,400)

It's that people over age 30+, remember all of the Clinton scandals, all of the cover-ups from the 1980s and the 1990s.
And they're tired of those lies and abuses of power being thrown 
in their faces day after day, once again from another 
Clitnon White House,
and have a justifiably, uneasy feeling that even greater abuses of power could be produced in a Hillary Clitnon administration.
Abuses which could cause another world-wide, Great war.

That scandal list of theirs is way, way too long to list here:  If you are curious, that's good- JUST GOOGLE THE CLINTON YEARS IN ARKANSAS,  THE WHITE HOUSE SCANDALS.
Poster child for "A Pathological Liar", Hillary Clitnon once said that she was named after Sir Edmund Hillary, the first person to successfully climb Mt. Everest in Nepal.  She said this publicly.  The only trouble is, Sir Edmund Hillary achieved that feat AFTER Hillary Diane Rodham was born in Chicago, Illinois.  
Then there's that pesky description of her landing at an airport in Bosnia, under heavy artillery attack.  Never. Happened,  
Leaving the White House in 2001, "dead broke", and needing to steal from that residence about $200,000 worth of American property;   the ongoing email saga, from her days at the State Department; her sudden Southern accent, whenever she speaks before Southern audiences, or in front of African American audiences, either one;  the FACT that she was fired in 1973 from the DEMOCRATIC-edged prosecution team against President Richard Nixon, 
FOR LYING, AND SUBVERTING THE FACTS, even as a young Communist sympathizer~~~
her relationship with Huma Abadin, the Muslim Brotherhood advocate-ho; 
and all of the dead people left in her path to power.
Her obvious health problems
Her tell-tale, sudden, off-the-scale Temper
Her obsession with money for favors (going all the way back to Little Rock, Arkansas in the 1980s)
Her vengeance against political opponents ( the 900 FBI files that she requested on politicians after she became First Lady)
Her Blackmail list against political opponents ( the 900 FBI files that she requested on politicians after she became First Lady)


But I believe in a Fervent, Just God, Who applies His justice, in the form of Karma, upon everyone, including His rival for His throne in Heaven, Hillary Clitnon.  And I believe that Almighty God will remember us Christians in this, the final throes of American National health, and Cause Hillary to be more and more exposed as the lying sycophant, the carpet-bagging former N.Y. Senator from Arkansas/Illinois, for that which she really, really, really and truly is:

A SICK, FEEBLE, ELDERLY, POWER HUNGRY WOMAN, WHOSE fantasies of unbridled power
and countless piles of money and riches have poisoned her so,
yet not to death, 
but literally to the brink of taking down the greatest nation in the history of the Earth, all for her own historic glory, and for nothing more than that.

The challenge of a Hillary Presidency is an option given by God Almighty-- So Choose Wisely.

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

It's So Bad, Let's Not Reflect
on the World News, Today

Instead, why not take a great trip to the small village of Moriches, New York?  On the south shore of Long Island, where the living is good, peaceful and easy~!
And the time is 10:33 am.

Lovingly lifted from the Moriches' Chamber of Commerce website:

The town looks to be old and well-settled, and that's what we two Malcontents like, when we go on vacation (e.g., Halifax, Nova Scotia, Rome, Portugal)  We would love to add a visit to 'the Hamptons' to our vacationing list someday~  heyyah, we could make it a victory tour of sort; indeed, visiting blogging friends all along the way from Pennsylvania to New Jersey, to even Webster, NY, eventually!

Think that someone there, could maybe provide an outdoor brunch for three Okies?

Just don't think that all of Moriches is "Choctaw"...(don't let those beautiful, Dutch Tulips fool ya)

They have a very well-represented St. Patrick's Day every year:

Leticia, Kelsey and I cannot make it in time for the Summer Concert series, on Saturday, Aug. 27, to see Chain Reaction play at the John Scudder Havens Homestead, 15 Montauk Hwy, but maybe YOU can~! --If you go, we expect a full report on how the concert went~!                    
It just looks like a lovely town
to call "home" ~!

Finally, the Delaware Indian tribe sold Manhattan island to the Dutch for $2399 worth of beads.  
On Long Island, the residents there, instead would hire the Indians to do beadwork, and sell the same to the Dutch, thus making a ton-more profit each year~ and making everybody happy.

Monday, August 15, 2016

Pissing Off Muslims, Over Their Nonsense Religion

I had a flat tire this morning on my 2006 Ford F-150, tires less than 2-years old.  I'm off work today as a result.  

Let's begin, w/ my official "Offended Muslim of the Day" log:

Someone in Abu Dhabi, where ever the hell that is,
took a lot of time scouring one of my Is.lame posts today:

He (or she) must be really Muslim, i.e., stupid, to have to come back to the same single blogpost 10 times, in order to get my genuine feelings on their "religion".  

He must be extra-stoopid, there in AbooDhabbie.  

Do you Islamic animals have Free television, or are you only subject to what your religion dictates you can see, watch, interpret and decide upon?  You call that Freedom? Independence?
No, it's Slavery, just as you think of yourselves.

You don't know freedom.  You are told that "Freedom" is not "Allah's desire", therefore you all must be his slaves.  I would wish to destroy allah, if I was born to be his, or anyone's slave...  So why do you  believe in an Almighy Slavemaster called "allah"??  

Not even you fathers demand that your own children be your slaves....  SO HOW MUCH MORE, OR in the case of ISLAM,  HOW MUCH LESS can one expect from a Creator?  

In the case of Muslims, they are slaves to their god, allah;  To Jews, To Christians, To Buddhists, we are the beloved children of our Creator, and MOST IMPORTANTLY OF ALL,


Muslims??~  All that they can hope for in eternity is non-stop sex with a round-table of 72 virgins, over and over again, time never ending, the same 72.  "HEAVEN" to a Muslim man, is a three-month program, replete with eternal "Re-runs" of the last time...    To me, that is Hellish.

And it should be hellish, since Arabs have been so easily subdued mentally by one single con-artist named 'Mohammad' for 1400 years.  Never having the courage to seek out truth, and being berated by their elders to either conform to the standard, backward beliefs of an ancient generation, or die.

What cowards, Muslims are~!!  With no ability to think for themselves, to seek out truth for themselves, they are instead, lead by a ring in their noses, like goats or sheep or cattle.  

Islam has led Arabs and other sycophants to the point where anyindependent thought outside of Islam, is strictly forbidden, OUT OF FEAR. FEAR, FEAR, FEAR THAT some individual Arab person will realize that Islam is a belief system which was created by a very little, a very unsuccessful little Arab man named Mohammad.  He was only a very good non-fiction author, way before his time.

The early L. Ron Hubbard, perhaps~, but not a Prophet, and NOT a holy man.

Peggy Has Nailed IT, Regarding
Milwaukee's Thug Death, and Resulting Riots

Not only here in this instance, but black crime everywhere, and the stunted mentality behind all of it, caused by the Democratic Party, over the last 50+ years~
Lovingly lifted from Breitbart(dot)com's comments section, this comment from peggy6824 which is so good, enough so to be a guest blogger, here:

It is high time the police started showing photos of these criminals in all their glory and releasing their criminal records to the public so that we all know exactly who they are because we know the families will of course dig up the most angelic looking photos they can find and release them via the press.
It is past time to address the elephant in the room which is Black crime against all decent, hardworking, law abiding citizens of all races, including their own.
They should try putting themselves in our shoes because the truth is that the only brutality the majority of us have experienced has been at the hands of Black criminals, not the police which is why we are so leery of/apprehensive around them.
It is they who prey on and terrorize our citizens as they seek to take what they want by force. They are the true homegrown terrorists in our nation & now under the direction of Obama who seeks globalism/a global police force demand that we abolish all police in the US which would allow them to victimize & kill others with impunity. I would imagine that a fox would appreciate an unprotected hen house as well.
Obama himself painted a target on the backs of thousands of innocent police officers across the country as well as white people as evidenced by the attacks on them in Milwaukee with his hateful, purposely divisive rhetoric.
Shock Video–Milwaukee Rioters: ‘They Beatin’ Up Every White Person!’
Milwaukee Rioters Hunt Down, Attack Whites [VIDEO]
It is for this reason that we have “white flight” and it’s not just whites who refuse to live among them. All decent, hardworking law abiding citizens of all races refuse to live among them because their neighborhoods & communities are steeped in such violence as evidenced by Ferguson, Baltimore, Chicago, Philadelphia, Milwaukee, D.C., etc. which are all now or have been for the most part Democratically controlled cities. Now Obama seeks to force our communities to accept them under the guise of fairness regardless of the violence and destruction they bring to our peaceful communities which would only result in more “white flight”.
Blacks enslaved themselves by choosing to live on the Democratic "Poverty Plantation" thus it is the government who determines their worth & doles out the money they need to survive. It is the government who determines where they can & cannot afford to live, the quality of their schools, and the material things they are entitled to in life. Democrats keep them trapped on the "Poverty Plantation" by continuing to hand feed them at the expense of hardworking taxpayers to ensure their votes.
Blacks choose to ignore the fact that they and their communities are impoverished and steeped in violence because of the Democrats. They speak of economic disparity for which they refuse to take responsibility even though it is of their own creation because they refuse to educate themselves which would enable them to earn a living wage. Many fail to understand the expectations and responsibilities that come with employment as well as the value of showing respect to others.
DECENT, HARDWORKING, LAW ABIDING CITIZENS OF ALL RACES STAND UNITED with those that Obama seeks to consistently blame for the failures of Blacks because we are not blind and have all grown tired of your cries of racism & victimhood when it is you who have preyed on, terrorized, and victimized so many, including yourselves for decades. It is you who have turned your backs on education & chosen ignorance, poverty and a life of crime thus OBAMA AND BLM SHOULD STOP PEDDLING OUT RIGHT LIES!
One look at Ben Carson, his upbringing, and history is enough to show you that you can excel in life if you choose to regardless of your beginnings. Look to brave Black mothers like Peggy Hubbard & well educated teenagers like C.J. Pearson.
MLK said that Black people are such a small percentage of the US population but commit the majority of crimes. They commit crimes with such ferocity and now thanks to Obama seek to push a false narrative of police brutality in stark contrast to proven statistical facts.
Examples of Black crimes against others;
•The "knockout game" a.k.a. "polar bear hunting" where they are randomly striking innocent/unaware white people in the head as they walk down the street with their fists to see if they can knock them out with one punch which they videotape to share with others? They attack the elderly, women, & young children some of who have been killed in the process. They do this purely for their own entertainment and do not seem to be bothered by the deaths they have caused.
The following happened on July 13, 2016
This man who is somebody’s father/grandfather was viciously kicked in the face after he had already been knocked out by this vile uncivilized animal purely for entertainment purposes.
•Multiple Black men viciously raped/killed a visibly pregnant young white woman and the child she was carrying.
•An elderly white gas station attendant was brutally beaten to death by 3 Black women & their vile offspring because 1 of their children lied & said that this man hit him when he actually fell off his own bike. These animals didn't have the sense to speak with this man, opting instead to jump out of their vehicle like a pack of wild animals and kill him.
•A white woman was attacked by a Black man in her own home. The attack was captured on a baby monitor that was posted online in effort to identify the perpetrator. She never cried out while this vicious animal tortured & beat her in front of her child, fearing that it would scare her child.
•A white college student from a foreign country that wanted to play baseball in the US was shot/killed while walking along a road after visiting his girlfriend simply because some young Black men were bored?
•A decorated marine was attacked, knocked out, and robbed outside of a McDonalds simply because he refused to answer the question when asked if Black lives matter.
•A young white teenager was forced to watch as her boyfriend was killed and she was repeatedly raped by a group of Black men who then poured bleach down her throat and up her private parts to get rid of their DNA then left her in a barrel to die????
•Two tourists from Great Britain took a wrong turn into a housing project in FL and were shot/killed by a young Black teenager. They were shot a combined 6 times & both through the heart. His last words to them were "Since you ain't got no money, I have something for your ass".
•An old woman woke up in the middle of the night & found herself covered in gasoline and threatened that she would be burned alive unless she handed over her credit card & pin number????
These are not innocent children the police are confronted with on a daily basis and oftentimes are armed with illegally obtained weapons. They have absolutely no respect for the lives of others or their own and even when caught red handed in the commission of a crime with numerous eye witnesses and are killed in the process, their families & communities defend their right to commit such crimes with impunity by violently protesting, looting, & destroying their own neighborhoods & communities which makes them just as culpable/guilty.
For the most part people of other races do not protest, loot, or burn down their own neighborhoods, communities or the businesses of innocent hard working bystanders who have worked all of their lives and invested a great deal of time in building their businesses only to see them destroyed by a bunch of criminals, nor are we going to rush out & post an angelic looking 2nd grade picture while the police are holding a 10 page rap sheet of their crimes which in many cases include violent crimes.
This does not mean that we hurt any less when one of our loved ones are killed in the commission of a crime, it simply means that we accept the fact that CRIME IS A CHOICE thus if they are killed in the commission of a crime than that too is their choice. The majority of us will not protect, defend, or make excuses for the criminals among us nor are we going to scream racism when it has nothing to with race and everything to do with crime.
How many times have you heard of anyone other than a Black person assaulting, robbing at gunpoint, or killing someone else over a pair of tennis shoes of all things?
They will viciously attack & kill each other over the last piece of chicken or barbecue rib for heaven’s sake. (read the news)
It is so bad that we no longer need descriptions/confirmation of the perpetrators every time one of these vile/vicious crimes is committed.
Their attacks are immediate and require absolutely no provocation whatsoever, and yet they wonder why so many are so leery/apprehensive of them. They say they are offended by people who cross the street to avoid them or grip their purses tighter as they walk by or simply choose to avoid them altogether. This is unfortunate for the many decent, law abiding Blacks who must carry the burden of these criminals just as law abiding Latino/Hispanic Americans must carry the burden of the criminal illegal aliens in the US.
TO ALL CRIMINALS, if you do not want to be shot or killed then stop attacking, assaulting, robbing, burglarizing, raping, and murdering innocent people.
This is not meant to excuse the police in circumstances when they are clearly at fault & if proven so they should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
I personally know of 5 or 6 people who were attacked without provocation by Blacks. How many do you know???
Black artists should use their god given talent for good like an "Anthem" promoting "EDUCATION" over ignorance and hard work over poverty & crime. Instead, they choose to push the narrative of racism & victimhood and that they are owed simply because of the color of their skin! Listen to the lyrics of their music and watch the videos they create that are littered with violence. Especially those of Beyonce of late who makes no apology for them and even showcased one of them at the Super Bowl last year.
Education is free up to the 12th grade and, for those who apply themselves, a college education which comes with “Affirmative Action” for minorities and yet they still refuse to avail themselves of it????
As a minority who grew up poorer than poor and had to learn English, I chose education over poverty, ignorance, and victimhood! Not going to school & getting a good education was not an option with my parents nor was disrespecting teachers & others in a position of authority. Even after my father abandoned us, leaving my mother to raise/feed 8 children, who were all still in school, the rules did not change. I sat in the same classes with the same teachers as so many others who claimed the schools failed them, went on to have multiple children, and currently reside on the Democratic "Poverty Plantation". I got a phenomenal education and they didn't because I figured out early on that Teachers would focus their energy on those students who wanted to learn.
Obama may as well say that all decent/law abiding people of all races, including Blacks are all racists when in reality IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH RACE AND EVERYTHING TO DO WITH CRIME! This is also not to say that there is not a criminal element in every race because we all know that there absolutely is.
Note to Obama and BLM, ALL LIVES MATTER up to the point where you seek to attack, assault, rob, rape or kill another at which point your lives cease to matter to your intended victims and all decent/law abiding citizens of all races.

Sunday, August 14, 2016



Like you maybe, I've always wondered what that music, that fantastic music is, in the background of lots and lots of Warner Brothers Cartoons.

Listen, and you'll remember long-untouched memories from your past,
and you will grin, remembering them
Powerhouse, by the Raymond Scott Quintette:


This extraordinary tale was published 170 years ago, this week:

My favourite Edgar Allen Poe story of them all, by far, the most chilling and I think, the most evil:


"The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge... At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely settled...
"I must not only punish, but punish with impunity."
Now Montresor began to develop the perfect plan of retribution.

During this time, Montresor was careful not to arouse Fortunato's suspicions.
Neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his destruction."

Fortunato had a weakness which Montresor felt could be advantageous to implementing his plan. Fortunato prided himself upon being a connoisseur of fine wines. In this respect, they were equals. Montresor was skillful in Italian vintages and bought largely whenever he could.
Around dusk one evening during the carnival season, Montresor encountered his friend Fortunato, who "... accosted him with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much." Fortunato wore the costume of a court jester including a "conical cap and bells." 

Montresor proclaimed how glad he was to encounter Fortunato since he had just purchased a large cask of "what passes for Amontillado," but he had his doubts about its authenticity. Fortunato also had doubts. "How?" said Fortunato. 

"Amontillado?...Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!"

"I have my doubts," said Montresor; "and I was silly enough to pay the full Amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain....As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If anyone can tell genuine Amontillado, it is he."

Fortunato was outraged. Luchesi was not a connoisseur of Amontillado. Fortunato said, "Come, let us go, your vaults to taste the Amontillado."

Montresor responded by telling his friend that he could see that he had a prior engagement as well as he noticed that Fortunato was afflicted with a severe cough and cold. The dampness of the vault and the niter with which the walls were encrusted, would not be good for Fortunato's health. Fortunato responded by saying, "Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been imposed upon. As for Luchesi, he cannot distinguish sweet sherry from Amontillado~!"

Fortunato had taken the bait, and the plan was put into action.
When they reached Montresor's palazzo, they found no one at home. The servants had departed according to plan. Montresor handed Fortunato a flambeaux as he took one for himself, and they made their way to the catacombs of the Montresors wherein lay the wine vaults. 

Fortunato's gait was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he walked.
Fortunato began to cough from the niter, and Montresor said that they must go back. "We will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchesi--"

Fortunato said, "Enough...the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough." "True--true," said Montresor. "A draft of this Medoc will defend us from the damps." 

Montresor knocked off the neck of the bottle of wine, and passed it to Fortunato. 
Fortunato raised the bottle to his lips as his bells jingled, and said, "I the buried that repose around us." Montresor said, "And I drink to your long life."

They now proceeded through the vaults. Fortunato had forgotten how great and numerous a family Montresor had. He asked about the Montresors' coat of arms. Montresor said that on the shield was "a hugh human foot d'or, in a field of azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are embedded in the heel." The motto stated: "Nemo me impune lacessit 
[No one assails me with impunity]."

Montresor and Fortunato had now reached the inmost recesses of the catacombs."The niter was hanging " moss upon the vaults." They were "below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickled among the bones." Montresor said, "Come we will go back ere it is too late. Your cough--" But Fortunato replied, "It is nothing...let us go on. But first, another draft of the Medoc."

Montresor opened another bottle of wine (De Grave) in the same manner as before, and handed it to Fortunato. "He emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards while making a gesture that Montresor did not understand.
"Fortunato repeated the movement, and when he saw that Montresor still did not understand, he said, " Then you are not of the brotherhood....You are not of the masons."

However, Montresor insisted that he was. Fortunato asked for a sign of some sort to prove that Montresor really was a mason. Montresor reached beneath the folds of his cloak and produced a trowel (the tool that would later seal Fortunato's fate). "You jest," Fortunato exclaimed. "But let us proceed to the Amontillado."

"At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another pathway, less spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains....Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner." However, the bones had been removed from the fourth wall, and scattered outside the crypt. By removing the bones, an interior recess " depth about four feet, in width three, in height six or seven...." had been created. Montresor told Fortunato to proceed within, since "herein [was] the Amontillado."

Fortunato, who was extremely intoxicated at this point, did as he was instructed to do, only to realize that he had reached the extremity of the niche. In a moment, Montresor had chained him to the granite. "In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about Fortunato's waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it." Fortunato was taken by surprise, and was much too intoxicated to resist. Fortunato called out, "The Amontillado!" "True," Montresor replied; "the Amontillado."

As Montresor spoke these words, he continued with the last part of his plan of revenge.

From beneath the scattered bones, he uncovered "...a quantity of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of his trowel. Montresor began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche." Fortunato's intoxication was beginning to wear off, and "...a low moaning cry came from the depth of the recess." 
Montresor continued his work even though he could hear Fortunato struggling with the chains. 

When the wall had reached chest level, Montresor, using his torch, peeked inside the niche.
"A succession of loud and shrill screams, suddenly burst forth from the throat of the chained Fortunato." This initially shocked Montresor; but realizing that Fortunato could not be heard, he began to re-echo, and finally surpassed the shrieks of Fortunato with those of his own until Fortunato was silent once more.

It was midnight,and the task was almost complete. Just as Montresor was inserting the last stone, a low laugh could be heard from the interior of the niche. It was followed by a somewhat sad voice, which said, "Ha! ha! ha!--he! he!--a very good joke indeed--an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo--he! he! he!--over our wine--he! he! he!"

Montresor echoed Fortunato's laughter. Fortunato reminded Montresor that it was getting late, and that they would be missed. "Let us be gone," Fortunato said. "Yes, " Montresor said, "let us be gone." Fortunato cried out, "For the love of God, Montresor!" And he replied, "for the love of God!"

Then all was quiet.
Montresor called out Fortunato's name, but there was no reply. Again using the torch, Montresor tried to see inside of the niche. "There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells." Montresor grew sick at heart due to the dampness of the catacombs. He hurried to finish his task. The last stone was put and plastered into place. Against the new masonry, Montresor restacked the old bones.

"For half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!"
(May he rest in peace!)

for your pleasure reading, here is 
The Cask of Amontillado,
Edgar Allen Poe,  intact:

THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. AT LENGTH I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled -- but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. 

A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong. 

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile NOW was at the thought of his immolation. 

He had a weak point -- this Fortunato -- although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian MILLIONAIRES. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen , was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; I was skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could. 

It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress and his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him, that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand. 

I said to him -- "My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day! But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."
"How?" said he, "Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible ? And in the middle of the carnival?"
"I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was silly enough to pay the full Amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain." 

"I have my doubts." 


"And I must satisfy them." 


"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If any one has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell me" -- 

"Luchesi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry." 

"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own."
"Come let us go." 


"To your vaults." 

"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an engagement Luchesi" -- 

"I have no engagement; come." 

"My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you are afflicted . The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre." 

"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been imposed upon; and as for Luchesi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado." 

Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm. Putting on a mask of black silk and drawing a roquelaire closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.
There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in honour of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the morning and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance , one and all, as soon as my back was turned. 

I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together on the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors. 

The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode.
"The pipe," said he. 

"It is farther on," said I; "but observe the white webwork which gleams from these cavern walls." 

He turned towards me and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication . 

"Nitre?" he asked, at length 

"Nitre," I replied. "How long have you had that cough!"
"Ugh! ugh! ugh! -- ugh! ugh! ugh! -- ugh! ugh! ugh! -- ugh! ugh! ugh! -- ugh! ugh! ugh!
My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.
"It is nothing," he said, at last. 

"Come," I said, with decision, we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill and I cannot be responsible.
Besides, there is Luchesi,"

"Enough!" he said; "the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough."
"True -- true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily -- but you should use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will defend us from the damps."
Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.

"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine.
He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled.
"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us." 

"And I to your long life." 

He again took my arm and we proceeded.
"These vaults," he said, "are extensive."
"The Montresors," I replied, "were a great numerous family."
"I forget your arms." 

"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel." 

"And the motto?"
"Nemo me impune lacessit."  ( No one provokes me with impunity )

"Good!" he said. 

The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had passed through walls of piled bones, with casks and puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow. 

"The nitre!" I said: see it increases. It hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your cough" -- 

"It is nothing" he said; "let us go on. But first, another draught of the Medoc."
I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not understand. 

I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement -- a grotesque one.
"You do not comprehend?" he said. 

"Not I," I replied. 

"Then you are not of the brotherhood." 


"You are not of the masons." 

"Yes, yes," I said "yes! yes." 

"You? Impossible! A mason?" 

"A mason," I replied. 

"A sign," he said. 

"It is this," I answered, producing a trowel from beneath the folds of my roquelaire. 

"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed to the Amontillado." 

"Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak, and again offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame.
At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains piled to the vault overhead , in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. From the fourth the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no especial use in itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one of their circumscribing walls of solid granite. 

It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavoured to pry into the depths of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see. 

"Proceed," I said; "herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchesi" -- 

"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. 
In an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered . 
A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short chain. from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded to resist . Withdrawing the key I stepped back from the recess. 

"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed it is VERY damp. Once more let me IMPLORE you to return. No? 
Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the little attentions in my power." 

"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment. 

"True," I replied; "the Amontillado." 

As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche. 

I had scarcely laid the first tier of my masonry when I discovered that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was NOT the cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labours and sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided , I resumed the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier. 
The wall was now nearly upon a level with my breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within
A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a brief moment I hesitated -- I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs , and felt satisfied. I reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of him who clamoured. I reechoed -- I aided -- I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamourer grew still. 

It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth, and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognising as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said --
"Ha! ha! ha! -- he! he! -- a very good joke indeed -- an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo -- he! he! he! -- over our wine -- he! he! he!" 

"The Amontillado!" I said. 

"He! he! he! -- he! he! he! -- yes, the Amontillado . But is it not getting late? Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone." 

"Yes," I said "let us be gone." 


"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" 

But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud --
No answer. I called again --

No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells. My heart grew sick -- on account of the dampness of the catacombs. I hastened to make an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. 
Against the new masonry I reerected the old rampart of bones. 
For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!