World X sponsors revolution ap

... Here he comes, he's all dressed in black
PR shoes and a big straw hat
He's never early, he's always late
first thing you learn is that you always gotta wait
I'm waiting for my man ... 
Lou Reed ,  lyric from I'm waiting for the man


We who have been so badly burned over and over our skins red and oozing from the lash, and not just us, but everyone all around us in their varying states of suffering, look up and see protestors on tv, on the net, in our hearts, wondering what slimey deceitful tortures await them?  That is how we've come to think.  We are not really Stockholm Syndromers, appreciative of any pause in the new, upgraded wheel of everything, the operating system under which slaves, wrists leashed to railroad ties overhead, power the wheel 24/7. No, nada, nunca mas, rather we are compassionate, seeking their safety, It IS becoming too big to fail, this is empowering them, every arrest empowers them more, and then when the you-know-whos make the TBTF connection, the real war, not the one that has become totally automatized and roboticized, begins.  Those real wars will be the one-sided wars of exposure of the most mundane detail of a human life interpreted to mean something completely different by running it through the press release machines.  Wars of ubiquitous commercialism and sponsored entertainment, great amounts of wealth will  pass hands.  It will be attacked as a rite of passage, the Aborigine child at last becomes a man, because no one can afford to backpack through Europe anymore, and the costs are not always financial.


When Tahrir Square's protests began, bleating pundits directed opinion in the weeks long media blitz, the one thing you knew straight on was how the Overseers viewed it.  The violence was roundly "deplored".  You knew they wanted to quell that thing a.s.a.p. because it was giving others in other locations in the Zombie Food Court ideas.  You know what happened later and how lovely things are over there today.  Why in fact, many of us will recall a bizarre photo candidly depicting the war cabinet hovered over questionably functioning laptops. 


I am jaded.  I see things from the inside out, not outside in.  It is natural to ask about anything that appears to be one thing, if perhaps maybe its another?  Life is all about learning and this just one of multitudes of ways that we learn.  "What if ..." is usually a good way to present the case.  It invites sharing the responsibility of a direct response. That particular method of inviting exchange can go to unusual places and you will learn what you needed to know, if you didn't already, at the least you will have confirmed your original observations.


Maybe if ... we had not already put aside false desires such as hope and belief, and lived so hard on the barren plain of the human condition, crushed by repeated falls into the stairwells of life's basement long enough to recognize the pattern and its mocking roots of Wetiko wet nurses and Wetiko religious dogma, maybe we would want to ask who started what and why.  Oh, forget the "why."  Moreover, forget the "who" also.  Who cares?  "What" is what we learn, "how" is the core.  And running through the heart, pole to pole, is the arrow of evil, the Yang.  In the early chapters of Arab Spring, I suggested sovereign leaders were being rotated in a manner more beneficial to  Big Mo.  I think all of our questions are being answered with each passing event. Especially the part about sovereign which in the language of the World X OS upgrade translates to colonial.


If we apply what we learn to another situation we might say "What if ... what if the design is inextricably in place, all that is left is more bloodletting and the good old highway robbery under the cover of darkness and freight trains, forever underwater at the company store? One of billions wet-faced in the rain racing for shelter, to the tents and migrant motels?  What if ... we die and are exploited further in death by past-their-prime degenerates playing their last card last off your back?  Addicts never change.  They can clean up, briefly, but its always calling.  You bet they are hustling again, they are in a pact from the grave.  The candidates are competing with the false flags.  Every time, throughout all of human existence, when they start up that shuck and jive, it is the sound of hellfire and fury heralding in another notch on the ancient Totem of history. In fact, there was another heated display of cravings just today as the Iran drumbeat drifted across the prairies with the Cartels as back-up chorus.  Of course, its not doing well on the charts, its rather worthless until they can use it in conjunction with the Times Square dude and the panties on the plane mule.


What success are we seeking?  We are seeking peace of mind and to be left alone to pursue our authentic interests, so many of which are denied for all the wrong reasons regardless of geography.  We seek universal love and compassion, genuine peace on Earth and recognition of every living thing on the Living Planet as family.  These few things are not universally sought, you know that much by now no matter what station you may be waiting in during this journey,  but be comforted - you are not alone.