Just Asking Questions About Tucker Carlson's Murder Castle

"For legal reasons I can’t say that I’m certain he has a murder castle, but if it were legally possible, I would be saying it."

Edited by David Swanson

Acyn @Acyn

Tucker: We're not the crazy people. You're the liars.

“Just produce the police body cam. Why’s that so hard? … The onus is on them, not the rest of us. We’re not the crazy people, you’re the liars. There’s nothing wrong with asking questions. Period. And if that’s banned, this is a totalitarian country.”

—Tucker Carlson, 11/2/22, on the assault of Paul Pelosi

I am putting myself at great risk to write this. I could be dead by the time you read these words, or disappeared into a black helicopter, so listen up. Here’s the raw, unvarnished deal for readers who are ready to cast off the yoke of tyranny:

My many and various sources (unnamed) are telling me that Tucker Carlson has a murder castle.

For legal reasons I can’t say that I’m certain Tucker Carlson has a murder castle, but if it were legally possible, I would be saying it. And what’s more, the murder castle has a dark past … Tucker Carlson actually lives in an exact replica of Gilded Age serial killer H.H. Holmes’ 1890s-era Chicago murder hotel, and he’s built it right in the middle of blue D.C., under all our noses. 

Consider his name. “Tucker.” More like “Tuck her into her grave under the floorboards.” He’s taunting us. All you have to do is pay attention. 

Just look at this photo of his “woodshop” from Time Magazine:

According to these arrows I drew, every single surface here is full of the bones of murder victims. I’m not saying whose, just that we need to be asking questions. Why don’t we have surveillance camera footage of this woodshop? Look at those buttons on that shirt. They’re made of bones. But whose? 

Why hasn’t Carlson answered questions about his flock of enormous black red-eyed goats? Why is he so obsessed with returning the world to the values of the 1890s (eugenics, women can’t vote, segregation) if not to remake the world of his hero and idol, H.H. Holmes? My sources tell me Carlson and his cronies at Fox only travel by horse and buggy while hunting for comely ingenues to despoil and then murder in the asphyxiation chamber. Allegedly.

It’s a hard life, seeking the truth. As I pen these words, I’ve gone off the grid, and underground—literally. I’m seventeen feet under the autumn-rimed turf of my undisclosed location, in my piss bunker, and for days, I’ve been surviving on nothing but my proprietary Apocalicious(™) Ration Buckets, which you can buy in my store here. They’re delicious, keep for ten to forty-five years no matter the level of background radiation, are legally classed as a food-related product, and they come in seven flavors, all of which are glop. I’m in hiding. They’re after me. You know, “them”—the media, the liberals, those bloodthirsty, globalistic, Satanic, New World Order-loving, long-nosed, lactose-intolerant, knish-baking New York elites. They’re out to get me because I’ve found out the truth, the truth the mainstream media has long buried, like the bodies in Tucker Carlson’s basement.

---

The Sword and the Sandwich is an exploration of serious extremism and serious sandwiches. To support this work and access all future content, please consider a paid subscription:

---

There are eleven letters in the name “Tucker Carlson.” His middle name is “McNear,” which takes us to a total of 17. So that’s the number of murder victims contained in the alleged murder castle, and one of them could be my daughter; she hasn’t called me back in eight months and I’m getting worried, I showed up at her house and no one answered the door; I thought I saw someone hiding under the couch, but when I broke in with a crowbar the house was empty. She won’t answer my texts. I’m assuming she was murdered. By Tucker Carlson? It’s worth keeping an open mind. Call me if you’re alive, Myckayla, please, I miss you.

Focus on the questions. ASK THE QUESTIONS. Does Tucker Carlson routinely dress up as mustachioed fin-de-siècle serial killer H.H. Holmes to prey on dewy and promising single career girls coming to the big city of D.C. from all over the country? Where is the media on this story? Where’s the footage of him not committing countless atrocities in the guise of yesteryear’s most nefarious fiend?

Here’s H.H. Holmes and Tucker Carlson side by side:

Note that they have almost exactly the same vacant expression.

And here’s what Tucker Carlson would look like with a mustache and bowler hat, such as he would wear in his theoretical H.H. Holmes costume, which my sources (unnamed, but very close to Carlson, big DC media elites who can’t stop talking to me, who love me, unlike you, Maccayla) tell me that he likes to dress up in when he goes out to stalk prey. Human prey? Let’s just say it’s an open question.

Look at this. The resemblance is uncanny:

Tucker Carlson was born in 1969. H.H. Holmes? 1861—born 109 years apart! 109? Another possible number of victims. 666-109? 557. 557? The area code of Jefferson City, Missouri. Trust the process.

Fact: H. H. Holmes had a selection of greased chutes to transport the bodies of his victims more easily to his quicklime pit in the basement. Look at Tucker’s face. It’s greasy. A television show taping is called a “shoot.” “Shoot” = “chute.” Greased chute. It’s all coming together. Research. Quicklime is a substance used to quickly dissolve decomposing bodies. Quick = fast. Tucker Carlson was the subject of an article in the magazine Fast Company in 2019 about his support of rape. Here’s Tucker Carlson discussing a lime green M&M.

Conclusion: This man must have quicklime pits in his basement. What are they for? I’d like to know. I’d like to know if they’re choked with bone dust. I assume they are because I’ve done the research.

I’ve heard word of the meat grinder permanently set to “human” and the blood sigils. I know that Tucker Carlson’s stepmother is heir to the Swanson frozen vegetable fortune, so he has a steady source of industrial-sized freezers that could fit ten million peas or at least eight point five stacks of human bodies. I’m drawing the connections everyone else is afraid to.

Tucker Carlson has produced no proof whatsoever that he doesn’t share his quicklime pit with Sean Hannity and a cabal of congressional Republicans (RINOs—Republicans Into Necrophilic Orgies) who snort bone dust while worshiping Satan.

All of this can be easily disproved by forensic footage of Carlson’s basement and a DNA sampling of the quicklime pit. If Carlson would only tear open the walls of his mansion so we could make sure there are no greased corpse chutes in there everything would be OK. But it’s not OK. It hasn’t been OK for a long time. Where are you, Mackayla? Why won’t you call back? Did you change your number? Once I dandled you on my knee. You were so small in such a big world, your tender head on my shoulder, and now you’ve turned from me, and my world is dimmer, so dim I feel I am groping after all that was good and now is gone.

In conclusion: Tucker Carlson and the Freedom Caucus (the full name of the caucus is “Freedom to Murder Innocents In Depraved Fashion And Without Consequences, In the Dozens, In the Thousands, Ah How Their Lithe Bodies Fall, Like Slender Birches Before the Axe,” but you won’t see the MSM reporting this) are an alleged murder cabal. 

Remember: ASK THE QUESTIONS.

Ask them about the vast supplies of sulfuric acid. Ask them to name at least seventeen demonic entities. Ask them about the bone-crushing vise. Ask them whether they do scrimshaw with lady femurs in the woodshop. Ask if they’re even any good at scrimshaw. 

You know what to do. The power is yours.

Now I hear footsteps above my bunker, and my tub of glop is ready to eat, delicious cold or hot, pallid and viscous either way. I leave you. I fear censorship and danger. I hope I will be able to speak to you again. Donate to my crypto wallet to keep me safe and transmitting these vital truths to you.

Farewell, brothers in arms. 

The Skeptic