Hunters – insensitive and depraved wild frank – witness to the execution vestiges of a barbaric past. strong words certainly, but a drop in the ocean to the feelings of these perverted specimens of man at his worst. there were days when hunting appeared to be the only way of existence yet ultimately man was motivated by impulses that in his early days of scavenging undoubtedly pushed him to crave for fresh flesh eventually. like the gorilla and the chimpanzee, he could subsist on a vegetarian diet. However, as primates are mostly vegetarians, man would have done the same if he hadn’t possessed a certain predatory drive of self-delusion that turns everything into a target for his wrath. The flavor and softness of the food that was about to become morsels were enhanced by fire, which did not help either. But even accounting for that—the killing of defenseless animals with families similar to our own by vile traders who were unable to flee for their lives—is inconsistent with what it means to be a homo sapiens at this point in the evolutionary process. The commandment “thou shalt not kill” is crystal plain from the dim past, yet we choose to ignore it or use flimsy justifications to persuade others that killing is essential and natural for sustenance and, regrettably, even for real sport. The same was stated about human sacrifice and it is still maintained that one should always be on the lookout for others. What a waste of time evolution and noble ideals are. Why do we tolerate this tight-lipped belief and its economic justifications for garbage and so-called nature trading? It makes no mention of the reality that the majority of people, even those with a moderate degree of good breeding, could stop this disgusting propensity in a matter of seconds because they understood how to do it or could rely on assistance from others. However, battling for causes is not the most well-liked human appeal, and individuals who feel the need to do so seem to be abnormalities of very rare rarity. The life of an animal rights activist is a difficult one. Fighting against the flood is even trying to take away this enormous abnormality from our children’s eyes and those of the animal world, which instinctively run away from humans. Rather of calling out the highest authority in the nation to stop the slaughter that he and we would be witnesses to, wild Frank—a man who values animals, their lives, and their rights—actually let us see his own foolishness for the wrong reasons. Not that he believed he could somehow stop it and let the world watch legalized filth, but rather that he was wrongly allowing us to witness an astounding diabolical exhibition. In a matter of seconds, an incredibly beautiful, motionless, thoughtful giraffe that was starring at its executioners transforms into a horrifying ball of agony that is frantically attempting to heal and return to its fold. To convince others that it was both lucrative and compassionate, the two creeps who arranged it just needed to set up the gun stand and pull the trigger, intending to kill it with a single shot. It is now evident that the traditional reasons of the safari game are not founded on requirements, but rather on habit and cowardly, vicarious enjoyment. That anything so excruciatingly cruel could be indulged in was only possible by mentally ill individuals with a damaged wiring someplace. While the bush hunt naturally gave rise to some power-hungry subhumans who became wealthy and bored due to their innate aggression, today’s defenseless animals are herded, raised, catalogued, and valued for their size and price as though killing them was just a matter of administration in the name of so-called natural elimination. This is what we were listening to the two talk about, naturally, trying to persuade Frank and ourselves of the attractiveness of the business arrangement. Everyone paid off till the next time, which was shortly, and even the giraffe flesh was generously divided. The more wicked of the two guys straddling Frank was the one putting up the execution; he did this by giving a very cool, collected, and nasty series of justifications for why a spoiled banker or other like person should set up a giraffe for target practice in the sake of mankind. “A lion would probably do the same job if we did not shoot it,” but lions are unlikely to be wandering about in a limited private place, and one of them is not likely to be as harmful as a guy going out to have fun. This precious Hollywood hopeful most likely fled his own country to live in the woods, and this was one of those ludicrous remarks that only a human being of this kind could say without flinching. Even though there were no beads of sweat on his pampered forehead, I had the uneasy feeling that there was a slight quiver on the edges of his lips at his own inherent gut sense of wrongdoing. Any killing, including pain-inflicting executions for pleasure, is obviously begging providence to knock at the front doors of their family homes. Perhaps I’m mistaken, but to be honest, he was foolishly drawn into this kind of movie deal and could have easily stared him down. Still, I have no doubt that he will always be tormented by the body he so “lovingly” kissed and permitted to be killed. I believe that might be the pivotal moment in his career and his reasons for shooting. Experiences inside their own homes would be quite possible for those who participate in or justify the horrific and soul-crushing incident that Frank and many other millions of viewers watched, since the father’s crimes fall on their shoulders. – and one day not too distant in the future. Maybe these idiots wouldn’t even give a damn if they did, but nature isn’t so foolish to let any of its representatives be placed in such an artificial environment. To begin with, if I did not really believe in the benefits of providence, I would genuinely discard that television box and retreat completely if I were ever to suffer such severe injuries again. Seeing is being a witness, and being a witness is participating. When it comes to profiting from their position of authority, community leaders who let such filth into our constantly changing lives deserve what they get. The majority of the global community would gladly remove this evil from our midst, so why do they automatically subscribe? How can “modern” nations like Japan, Canada, and Norway allow their citizens to see the blood flow and hear the screams of defenseless animals with whom they share the majority of their genes? It is our responsibility to learn the truth and, if need, exact revenge via boycotts and damaging press that will harm their finances and ambitions in politics. The history of cruelty in some of the most powerful countries in the world is starting to sound like an ultimatum to those whose hair stands up at the very idea and who must find a method to instill in them a lesson they will never be able to ignore. wild frank a participant who had lost hope. Sensitive, life-loving individuals who were raised correctly in the nest of ethical principles can hardly watch Wild Frank’s unsettling animal presentation show. Not because he brings us too near to the animal realm, but rather because he gives lip respect to those who play with fire by inadvertently biting themselves with poison. He makes fun of nature in a manner that maybe only he can comprehend. When it comes to issues like these, we can ignore them, but occasionally, and maybe for the wrong reasons, he sends true animal lovers to their beds restless and possibly into deep depression at the sight of what can only be described as poisonous assassinations accompanied by sights and sounds that people will never forget. for what purpose? He achieved this by associating with two of the most malevolent figures one would be hesitant to associate with, as previously said. The first is a hunter and trophy organizer, while the second is a sick person who is adamant about spending a large sum of money to have the ability to murder as many people as possible and display the heads of them in his run-down house morgue. When they ultimately recognized that people would see them differently than they wished, they both sent waves of wickedness from their lips and eyes. The next time, they’ll make sure no one else is nearby to ruin their fun—perhaps with a new species. The square feature of the younger of the two, who was “in it for money as a solid business,” revealed the mental equilibrium of a retarded loser. In fact, anybody with a heart would have punched his face into shape because of the bilious quality of his emotions and pitiful statements. The farm, to use the term this monster prefers, is a self-serve facility that specializes in caged creatures that are priced according to size and complexity. It serves as a platform for the convenience of evil assassinations. The supplier, who reportedly received around ten thousand euros per head, reportedly thanked the Lord every morning for his wicked bread and rubbed his hands. Driven by a desire to make up for what seems to be a lack of masculinity, the other, the client, calmly focuses on returning home with this horrific act of malice along with a trophy and wall plaque that would make him look like a hero in the eyes of his imagined buddies. A few unsettling facts. To kill a large animal, as did the king who lost his crown in exchange, was simply a matter of pulling the trigger when instructed to do so by those with a cosmic view of the ultimate exercise of power. The helpless creature, likely raised from young for the purpose, would remain in place to ensure that the bullet tore straight through its heart with a single shot. This time, the cretins selected a lovely, royal giraffe that had probably been abandoned by its owners, who may have raised it from a young age. It remained still, observing the tripod’s setup and speculating about its potential use. With its unusual glazed eyes and charming look that have enchanted youngsters worldwide, it towered over them at a distance of fifty yards. It remained still as the terror struck my heart and the hearts of millions of others who were caught off guard by this one terrible deed. It was at point blank range, facing this hideous, tired-looking misfit, and standing quietly and unafraid—a trait that led me to believe it had been raised in a death camp—exactly where the bullet was meant to tear through and kill it quickly. Frank was persuaded by the younger cretin that “the animals did not realize they had been shot,” which made it seem even more tempting. As a consequence, no one was held accountable, and the animals continued to twist and turn in pain due to the large internal wounds caused by the explosive item. With a knowing smirk, he said, “They don’t realize what has happened and die very quickly,” as if something so massive could just topple over and go unconscious in a matter of seconds to appease the cameramen. Fools like myself and, let’s be honest, Frank who were caught in that horrifying instant of no turning back were to be marked for life, as my many battles with my mind since then have shown. Although I believe that murder is murder and that people who do it are criminals and social outcasts, I would never support their death for the same reason. Economic justifications are incomprehensible to sensitive, educated people who were meant to appreciate life and all of its beauty. People who link economics to human or animal rights are just as dangerous to people as they are to the animals they abuse and murder. However, might their deaths in such regions also serve as a cover for other mercenary tasks that required diverting people’s attention—a fitting side concern during periods of low combat? Who knows? While the organizer, in his moment of glory, watched to ensure the rifle was aimed at the proper angle and that the client had calmly set up the tripod, it appeared as though the giraffe had been trained over time to stand at the point of impact so that it could die and leave a happy client behind to return later. The way everything was done had a very peculiar, almost automated coordination setting that would make anybody wonder how such exact instructions could reach their destination at such a predetermined moment. A troubling non-variable in the formula, hair raising, suggested that the giraffe would not budge from its chosen spot. This could be because the assassins anticipated it would not budge while it was eating from the leaves above, or it could be because it had been trained to do so specifically for the occasion. The customer seemed to be prepared to strike a live target exactly where it needed to be pierced within a narrow triangle early on and after a ten-minute practice session. Ultimately, he was only a war game dealer rather than a true hunter, and the whole scene increasingly resembled a Victorian-era picture shoot that required more preparation time than the actual powder flash. To the dismay of the 1930s muscle-bound organizer, who was anxious to start counting his dirty profits and move on to more dull killings, the customer had actually missed the target twice. the incident’s horrifying nature. The sound of the rifle fire startled the gorgeous creature, causing extra issues and important time to be lost for the Errol Flynn cutout. Economically, destiny was on his side, and they both rejoiced when this creature—a living, breathing work of poetry—crashed to the earth and, ideally, turned to stone. However, it was not to be, and the gory sights that ensued, with a flaying limb driven by intense agony and an arched neck unable to raise its head, made the human monsters cry out for the mercy shot in case it disturbed anybody. Even still, Frank appeared to take some of the guilt for his role in this terrible ordeal when the limbs finally gave way to a peaceful slumber. As they matured, honorable people may have suffered from mental anguish and some may have killed themselves at the mere memory of what they had recently seen. Maybe, as Frank said, “I should not have been here,” and that would have saved us instead of making us complicit in such atrocity, as it has on numerous times. Maybe he ought to have arranged the talks differently and perhaps convinced the two idiots to abandon the plan. Maybe in an effort to find the time to inspire people everywhere to conduct the kind of action that would compel those political allies and death dealers to flee for their lives. Perhaps they might have thought of different solutions to their fictitious territorial worries with only a few notes? I will never forget what I saw, and what I had previously seen in another of Frank’s programs: somewhere in those deserted parts of Thailand, a lone dog was clubbed and then eaten in front of his scared, starving kennel members. Those who might have felt it appropriate to preserve them are not permitted to examine these items. Calling the police in advance while they pretended to eat would have allowed them to have the evidence they needed before shutting the facility. Instead, it caused emotional anguish in many who were unable to accept such cruelty. It is not a reasonable formula to murder one person in order to rescue others since it suggests that all lives are not created equal. Publicizing these people’s identities, phone numbers, and operations locations would accomplish significantly more. They would be harassed in order to experience the fire of public contempt and maybe be forced to realize that a similar destiny at the hands of providence—which, hopefully, is never far off in situations such as these—would follow. At the age of sixteen, Michael Mifsud began working as a journalist in the house of commons lobbying. After publishing the first trade publication for drivers in Britain, he went on to work in public relations and marketing before becoming a prosperous entrepreneur in a variety of industries. You may read about his journey from poverty to wealth on www.bwwsociety.org, where he advises governments and research organizations on important matters. In addition to being a prominent person in the templar society and publishing Al andalus, a trail of findings on the peculiar topic of the last anarchists of Europe, he also solidified the division between Catholics and non-Catholics that had bedeviled the order since Martin Luther. He has assisted many animals in rescue operations and loves animals. Over a ten-year period, he traveled widely with the royals and met the majority of the ruling class. He doesn’t write fiction; he writes with a purpose. Email this post to a friend! Related articles: hunting, hunting dogs, animal kills, economic slaughter, wild frank, animal rights, animal torture, safari, and trophies!get posts like this one sent straight to your inbox!Get a free subscription now!
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