Present shock ...

Present Shock and the Loss of History and Context

Recognize the title?  Charles is the brilliant mind behind it.  I liked it so much, I've borrowed it.  It perfectly sums up the experience of these times more succinctly than anything I've seen.  Read that line again, maybe again and again, there is a long and tedious, alarming and prescient freight train of human catastrophe endlessly passing before us as we sit at the crossroads while bells clang, lights change from green to yellow to red and whistles scream Danger, Danger!  Each boxcar crunchlocked to its predecessor, each more incongruous than dreamed possible to the landscape they pass through daily, nightly, every crusty bolt, every surface upon and in between the corrugated tin smashtagged in day glow obliterating ownership logotypes so that no rust remains visible, ensuring no one has reason to suspect the panorama passing before them is forever doomed to the elements.

One might think they'd lost their way, if they knew the way to begin with, which many do not.  I'm constantly running into people who have no idea where they are going.  It looks like they know their way, but if you ask them for directions, you get, to begin with, a quizzical look.  I'm gettin' very tired of that, aren't you?  Charles' "Loss of History" became a reality because the memories of our train watching travelers are sponging incessant variations of experience, pleasure and pain complete with artful twists, victor after victor indulging his mortal vision, including the perverse persuasions of centuries old scribes, co-authors and copywriters, that actual history, those massive subjects of World Civilization and Ancient Geological History, going back as far as the human imagination extends, exists only to adopt and rearrange.  

I find the daily compounding disasters taking place globally to be in perfect keeping with Kali Yuga.  We knew it was coming on and now its everywhere at once.  It is impossible to say with certainty how many of the daily disasters come about through technology fatigue, reliance on automated systems. We know that nothing lasts, nothing, and we see the world's infrastructure coming apart without serious management programs and funding allocated for upkeep.  We see our land itself heaving, sinking, shrinking, burning, sliding, frying and when you see it you ask why is this?  We see the enrichment of evil, the smarmy contracts let to those who deserve it least and still the train keeps on a rollin'.  We see everything, us, the Earth, all life under God under brutal attack and we very often find ourselves unable to do anything meaningful to abate the increasing damage.  When we can find nothing meaningful to do to heal this situation, its easy to fall back into complacency because there is no encouragement to be on the side of good and right.  What we must do is find our own encouragement and act on it.  A group isn't the answer.  Groups are brought down through all the common weaknesses inherent in gathering - from diverse allegiances to infiltration to unaffordable, impossible to implement solutions.  Not enough like minds agree on exactly which problem or issue to tackle and the reason behind this is the secrecy shrouding every platform that requires transparency, as if there are merely a handful of problems and all we need to do is agree which particular one in which to devote our energies.  Addressing them ALL is beyond our means and beyond our capabilities.  Even agreement on the magnitude and timelines of these problems is up for debate.  And there are worse problems ahead, just as Kali Yuga arrived, on schedule, so will the problems of the near future.  Soon enough we will witness rising seas pushing inland the great coastal cities as metropolitan populations are told they will have to pay for the stilts and cassons and berms and seawalls themselves - which is saying "Save Yourself"- and happens to be the exact formula we've seen played out time after time in every country on the planet since corruption/irresponsibility and evil became the NWO norm.   Due to the historically sideways manner of revealing important climate, food, economic truths such as employment and healthcare, there will be many who will interpret the information casually as far off in the distant future or people who must by circumstance refuse to pay.  Many will not survive. 

In a disaster, there is no room for debate. It is nothing short of cruel, evil, stubborn insistence on false ideals based on allegiances that overrides the possibility anything can be saved now.  This is another area where my patience is running thin, I'm sure yours is too.  At this juncture in Present Shock, to begin explaining what has happened and how it happened is ridiculous.  If one has not noticed by now that which is impossible to miss, one will never notice.  The die is cast, "things" will take their course and our best hope for survival is to stay out of the way. 

I don't blog as frequently anymore because the information is there for all to see and interpret.  Brevity is the short answer due to the nature of our precarious situation, the clash of civilizations, the mass undoing of global humanity, unilateral species genocide, the very breath of air itself, the seas, the water, and now the maturation of the dumbed down unable to decipher the difference between vicious violence and compassion, don't be surprised if you see much smaller posts soon.  The long answer is unknown.  It may come to a combination of the two, short then long, etc.  I won't back out, its something I do and will continue doing, like painting which has taken higher priority for weeks lately. 

On a happier subject, be sure to visit the Trout Clan's regeneration efforts.  From the devastating fire wiping out their once beautiful property, out of the ashes comes the TEEPEE.  Praises!  Crushall!  It is beautiful indeed to see disaster overcome by the unstoppable forces of goodness, love, truth, solid dedication and authentic partnership in action. 

What I was saying in the paragraphs above the Trout's heartening news, is in no way to be taken that I condone ignoring the circus.  We are an integral part of that show, like it or not, and there are things we can do.  We can counter evil, hatred, stupidity, carelessness, lies, conservative and liberal prejudices and allegiances, deliberate cruelty, revenge, greed, illusions, personal rejections, etc., by simply being the natural person we are in our core, for once and forever casting out the loudmouth representative-self blathering platitudes.  ALWAYS making the effort to see whatever there is to be seen through eyes of understanding and compassion.   Spiritual evolution, especially the continuing growth of our own, is our battle strategy, our Zen simplicity accurately aimed with all activity a union between body, mind and heart in sync so we may exponentially improve our response to all that comes, now and directly ahead, is and has always been the only way to manage survival.  It has undoubtedly taken all of us uncountable lifetimes to realize this fact and in knowing this we must also know it will take further uncountable lifetimes to re-right the ship, if ever.  We have no choice but to be okay with that and live wisely with love, otherwise the cycle of return, for uncountable members of our bredren (and perhaps even ourselves) will never end.

Post title © CHS 2013

Too Hot to Handle, Too Cold to Survive

Good Evening Friends, welcome again to another episode of Lies & Diversions. Tonight, as we lean back in our office style swivel chairs, surrounded by the warmth of a glowing fireplace brightening our War Rooms, we invite you to take a little trip with us into certain, rather frightful places, some call it the unknown, but that would be only because they have not been paying attention.  They have been paying attention to the aps and features on their bluetoothed phones between absent-minded mouthfuls of whatever high cholesterol, fructosed, BHT preserved and crunchy crackling bag contents they've sequestered in their desk drawers, occasionally spraying large gulps of green Monster on the desktop.  They think you are laughing with them because they are funny, but you are laughing at them because maligning them is not spiritually healthy.

As a mood-setting prelude for tonight's episode, here are a few select lyrics from "Desolation Row" off the Highway 61 Revisited album.  Are you going to ask me who wrote them?

... They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As lady and I look out tonight
From desolation row ...

... Yes, I received your letter yesterday

(about the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From desolation row

If you'd rather listen than read poetry, visit the link and turn up your speakers, although this particular version has a skippable ad before the stills.  Why can't we view the original?  Because standards and licensing agencies appear to have found something objectionable about desolation.  "This video contains content from SME and The Harry Fox Agency, Inc. (HFA), one or more of whom have blocked it in your country on copyright grounds." Cough, cough...

It is interesting to me that Visible's recommendation of the film, Memento, so remarkably captures visually much of the same high weirdness, tragedy and romance we pondered over the years listening to Dylan's musical metaphors.  Thank you Vizzy.  In Memento, with the funky sexy Guy Pierce (also in The Road, the calming father with his family at the beach) as our protagonist who has lost his short-term memory, aka the inability to make new memories.  Check out the trailer and skip the brief Jurrasic Park-extreme ad if you like. Memento is THE perfect film for these times, crazy, backwards and forwards, completely lacking the continuity necessary for making sense in our once civilized world of dates, calendars, clocks and schedules big and small.  I suggested you see it last summer, but if you have not done so yet, let me remind you again, its very, very good.  Easy to rent too.


***

I read Clusterfuck Nation every Monday morning.  Its just what I do, along with all the other blogs on my bloglist.  I don't usually comment there because its a crowded house and heavy on self-adverts, but Mr. K's entertaining writing style and take on our state of affairs are always interesting, often localized, you get a clear picture of what seedy desolation has overtaken upstate NY and much of small town New England.  This Monday's read contained a link it would be well worth your while to investigate.  Kunstler never links and I'm not going to give you a direct link.  I think you will find out why when you visit the sole link wedged into the middle of Kunstler's essay.  You can't miss it, it ties together more than a few billboarded and blathering diversions and puts truth to your worst suspicions, if you have them, if you allow yourself to ask the hard questions, if you are able to grasp a complex concept and follow it to its natural outsome.  Some of you may not be shocked at all.  Some of you may even have known all along the BRICS are well underway in their program.  There is no way our overlords will take this oncoming economic ostracisation sitting back, handwringing, unless action is taken before the fact - which may happen.  The MSM just ignores it, continuing on with gay marriage, the downfall of Lilo, powerball frauds and absurd employment/home sales statistics.

Decide for yourselves and feel free to comment even if you have never commented here before.  This needs discussion.  It does appear we are facing Memento on Desolation Row come round at last.  All that we have been preparing for, all along, was this.  We may not have to prepare anymore because if we've been good, loving, compassionate little persons, we might soon wind up on Pandora with our beloved Scout, ..neil..  HI NEIL! 

the inevitability of limited vision

The thing I like the most about the west is not something usually listed in travel advertisements such as accommodations and exclusivity.  It is the Cecil B. Demille skies at just about any given moment on any given day.  They appear unusually panoramic in comparison to skies in other geographies, with heightened cloud activity and weather complexities you would see elsewhere only over the open ocean where on the brightest sunny day, running wing on wing, you can study a distant squall off the port bow or rains falling from one cloud bank into another below it.  At this moment, a dark thunder storm is approaching from the southwest while overhead it is clear blue with Old Masters-style Cumulonimbus bordered with watercolor blends of soft Ultramarine graduating to crisp Titanium White.  You would think standing on the coast of say, Florida, you would see the same things, but it isn't so.  The Eastern Coast of this continent, especially in flat Florida, the adventures of Cowboy Clouds Gone Wild does not present itself in Cinerama, being quickly battened down by low lying landscapes: uninterrupted stretches of Mangroves and Sawgrass, beauties in themselves, but nothing like the lost fogs who become trapped in the passes and canyons hugging the California Transmontane as they also do in the Nevada Sheep's Range.  It is the appearance of white wool-like fluff that gathers through the striated peaks and crags that gives that region its name. This phenomena shows up often after rainstorms and on high humidity winter mornings.

What is peculiar about the cities of the western territories is the overkill to sell every man his castle.  In doing so, most homes built after the middle of the last century have high walls dividing them from their neighbors' houses.  Even strip malls employ a sort of semi permanent fencing arrangement utilizing metal posts and barbed wire.  It appears the McMansion development communities, squeezed by the thousands into formerly trash riddled vacant lots, each dwelling erected on individual tiny parcels, as small as the builder can get away with, are especially subject to high walls and ostentatious iron gates.  The walls are made of painted cinder blocks in multitudes of varieties of beige aka sand tones as if tight enclosure of the castle was something natural.  Is it natural to exit the kitchen door and meet with a wall extending to the second story?  These walls dividing homes from one another are typically fourteen or more cinder blocks tall. Even in ungated residential neighborhoods, the homes are walled off from passersby and sidewalks as if the presence of human habitation must be a secret kept far from tourists.  Existing behind walls limits sky viewing in the same way the web is seen on cell phones or news on TV with too many banners and blinking gadgets.  Who are these dickwads anyway,  blocking out our views?  Is anybody home there?  It is difficult to know what they're doing overhead, you can hear a lot of noise, seemingly close, but you don't know what it is.  It brings an air of gnawing mystery to whatever you are doing.  Naturally, it doesn't bother the locals at all.  Have they never lain in the grass with a friend watching clouds?  Actually, there is very little grass and grasses used for energy- intensive landscaping are poisoned.

There's more.  Most of the intrusive alerts and crackling static warnings that I mentioned in the last post are centered around flash floods.  They caution you to stay indoors, go nowhere, lay low until the all clear is given by "your" TV weather forecaster.   Do we have primary care weather-people now?    I have visited this same location off and on throughout the years, mostly seasonal layovers, mostly during this same season when these freak flash floods were definitely not happening, at least not happening to the extent they are this time.  Nature had not yet caught up with what the city planning board had in mind. Certainly, uninhabitable desert regions have always had flash floods since dry grit and creosote making up the floor of western deserts are not porous enough to soak up heavy water flow, in many foothhill regions you will see evidence of man's hand in redirecting the flow for human use.  But here, in the city, what seems to have happened is in the overbuilding, they covered the valley floor with wall to wall cement and asphalt, there is no other place for the water to go except into various dips of road and unfortunate properties cheaply bought and sold in less unpredictable seasons which we know are becoming more rare by the day.   It is exactly in those places flash floods take take their worst toll.  They have aqueducts, but not nearly enough and were never built to reign in the increasing summer overflow which always claimed victims even before superstorms.  This same situation also occurs in the high desert suburbs bordering the Mojave northwest of Los Angeles.  It happens where there are heavily traveled, ground level, high speed multilane asphalt highways bordered on both sides with non-porous ground and subject to increasingly extreme rainfall.  Of course, in the urban planning room, surely there are solutions to eliminate the fallout of flash floods, but the general story goes something like lack of funding, which is not the real story.  The real story is funding has been funneled into the show-off channel, an American Idol of the tallest, most absurd architectural atrocities designed specifically to lure huge convention crowds and international families bored with Disneyland.  Local citizens attempting survival in a state with the nation's highest foreclosure rate are actually a population of servicers to the illusion, working round the clock, racing over the curbs of flash flooded roadways to maintain the playground of a non-local 1% to whom the most important feature and most desirable and memorable adventure is blowing wads of dough at the altars of the Backjack gods.  Whatever weird, inexplicable interactions one may encounter in this city always have a common root.   It may take a lot of standing back and mental synthesis to make it out, but it never fails to arrive at the same vainglorious destination.  It is the same root for every destination mankind has worked over.  It is always all about the money.

In reference to the saying sex and money make the world go round, sex is only included in the partnership as the offspring of money, not the well spring.

I respect your right to debate, indeed there are millions of examples why this just isn't so.  Look at all the wonderful foundations that assist humankind ... the money that is diverted to charity would otherwise be taxable income.  This is how our system operates.  Regardless of who receives the funds, be it government or charitable foundation, the gaping flaw is owned by the earmarks directing the contribution. Do you read me?  So that developers of gated properties, in order to market the concept of One Man's Castle,  an updated version of retirees purchasing unseen sandlots in Arizona, get rollercoaster bangs for their buck as sponsoring members of the razor's edge fraternity, lobby for permissions to build and lobby against building codes they can legally ignore and those lobbies have been very successful, as you can see for yourself, but those lobbies and lobbyists are serving whom?  Not the clueless end-user who has been raked over the coals by the mortgage mills and employment classifieds and their children locked into lifetimes of education debt-servitude.  Not the women who were electrocuted in fire hydrant water spilling over a downed power line while attempting to rescue victims of the car accident that ended up on their sidewalk causing a chain of horrific events in the San Fernando Valley this week. Development is often a give and take business, they must contractually agree to include something for humanity at large such as public access to park benches and shade trees, but only if they are given free reign to short the construction codes.

Enough of that, all of THAT which now appears to be one long, curcuitous, converging zenith of mythical progress.  Much of which we all bear some small measure of guilt for some distantly related participation during the journey, even if that participation was nothing more than checking it out for the sheer curiosity or perhaps just going along for the ride.  The interesting part is how some of us have NOT become enured, none of what I am saying is new to you, I don't have stupid readers, Praise Jah, we keep on looking and keep on finding more interesting wonders daily, nightly and in those thoughtful hours inbetween, to fill our visual field and broaden spiritual development in spite of the many who give up and cave due to lack of encouragement, inspiration or example, life is so much more than what mankind has made of it.  It would be amusing if so many lives were not lost because of intentionally misdirected over-achievement and its coatail disciples.  Amusing in the similarity to standing on the beach watching the foam lap away your sandcastle, wave by wave, ever so gradually diminishing the dams, moats, towers, bridges and walls until there is nothing left but a clean smooth expanse, beautiful and perfect just as it always was.  Amusing as in building with toy blocks which fall and have to be put away in the blocksbox.  It seems it is inevitable, the persuasions of mankind always fall apart.

There is no good to be had from comparisons of your dream of lifestyle from that of childhood memory.  It only makes it worse.  Better for your personal well-being through which your own positive existence adds to the Overall Well Being, we ask what else is out there that can capture our compassion and expand our awareness in the Universal community?

***

Department of extracurricular observations and interpretations:

How long have we been reading Visible Origami?  Maybe forever.  All those years where Visible writes "Everything is under control" somehow entered the perceptive brain differently while reading a recent essay.  We've been under the mis-impression the phrase meant the Divine wouldn't actually take our beloved Earth away from us, that planetary calamity is unholy, extreme and intensifying, but ultimately a passing problem and we would be wise to not take it too seriously because change for the better is guaranteed regardless of Humanity's survival.  However, re-reading the phrase again a few days ago, in a somewhat different context, I realized and perhaps you did too, what he has been saying all along is that the ENTIRE show, journey, lifetime, dream, appearance/s, events, non-events, is controlled.  And as always, he backs it up with the qualifying statement, "for the purposes of demonstration".  This is much clearer now and I agree completely.

the lady gaga fear and loathing smackfest

" ... Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me
“How good, how good does it feel to be free?”
And I answer them most mysteriously
“Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?”
Dylan, Ballad in Plain D

There are many among our species more like ants than they realize.  Colonists feeding, toiling, regularly waging turf wars, the disabled, sick or different summarily dismissed for the greater good.  Where does leviathan royalty fit into this picture we ask? The Queen is their system unilaterally, interestingly similar to westernized homo sapien social orders, especially the "Disintegrate Iran into the mother of all resource/economic/hostile takeovers" Order of Wetiko Weasels.  We've heard Weasels are known for taking over the nests of other species.  One would imagine there is plenty of protective heat emitted from both sides, perp and victim and the backup choirs of both sucking the bias out of whatever justification for Weasel presence goes around.  Once the consequences of the Saturday Night Special, i.e.; primary Weasel weaponry, results of which may be infuriated bond holders, etc., no further global exchange is permitted for the original nest dwellers, at least for the duration of Phase Combat.  Although we have also heard there is a time tested, trust-based way around this. It is highly likely we'll be revisiting that particular system of exchange as the Weasels near ever closer to Full Spectrum Dominance with their unique brand of  bulldozing, garbage compacting, earth-moving genocide.  Start with clearing the property of human vegetable material, next, lay in sprinklers to soften the soil for tomorrow's state of the art interrogation basements.  I can't stand to see it, again, and again, the full body waxing formula cast in stone, Rumsfeld's pornographic dream of known unknowns come to full flower, a small and powerful coalition of roving international forces available, anytime, anywhere, quelling hotspots throughout the world on a moment's notice.  (Are you used to the former US commercial airports manager as SecDef in chief, yet? No?) And then what, when there is no more conquering to be accomplished, along with its attendant nightmares and serial slaughter, we ask, do they start over, reduced to warring over spoils among themselves, cuz we know they can't just quit and walk away? All to sustain the impossibility of infinite growth, swindling greenhorn shareholders into supporting the peak of the pyramid whose chief beneficiaries vanish from the headlines when the floor collapses, the ICC bent sideways under a burgeoning backlog of past patsy criminal investigations many of which may never see the light of justice if they want continuing economic cooperation from the global community, translated as continuing liquidity from the greater global printing press.  Geeze, its not like the joint squeaks by at all at the pleasure of Tony Soprano or something, is it? Once they get their hooks in, it only encourages more and worse of the same, forever fouling sovereign nests taken in the thrill of the kill, offing the seed of offspring to prevent any possibility future generations just might develop the temerity to look homeward as the Weasels settle in with faux Constitutional declarations and faux contractual claims to stolen fortune, unearned, undeserved. Rinse and repeat. 

"Everything is on the table."

When you read that sentence, or hear it, even typing it, it manifests an eerie cloudiness, a porous bamboo spear sizzling though razorwire, generating fabrications that nobody believes and eventually learns its too flammable to even whisper in most social interactions.  Who talks like that anyway?  What kind of mindset sashays atop the prized Persian carpet, hands in pockets, necktie pinned tightly in place, smears on a dour face melting into pockmarked pixels under the global lights and pronounces such a bizarrity?  With a pause before and after the sentence as if the weight of those words has long been calculated in the digitized, fusion funneled versions of Probabilities and Statistics which comes after Calculus if you're any good at it.  Or if you have a bit of the linear brain in you.  This action leads to this result, all of these actions lead to all of these results, one plus one equals two, questions are not permitted, nor is close examination, metaphorical comparisons are to be shot on sight or better, annihilate the entire region, apply chemtrails so we can breathe without gasping for CO2 by the time contracts are let.  A quadrillion zillion tiny slivers of colored glass and marbled mirror reflect the story echoing throughout pillared halls and archways in centuries old architectural splendor where all gather at dawn, on their knees, heads to the ground, genuflecting in unison, complete oneness in brotherhood with collective faith, collective unbearable loss and victimization bearing up under insane pressures, abandoned of all hope all ye of the formerly God-given right to exist in peace.  The man is on the move, Collaterals, beware, your time nears.  We urge you to locate refuge and  enact your evacuation plans as the No-fly Zone banner flutters into place above the shifting dunes and tightening straits, white phosphorus, escalating extreme munitions and eye in the sky surveillance portends the impossibility of any later exodus.  Cellos weep in minor, string sawing bass, intermission is over, the curtains part, Apocalypse Now, part two-redux, the part with body parts and streaming blood, guts and gore, little people flaying arms, running tear-streaked scattering,  the smell of Napalm in the morning ...

... The foreign sun, it squints upon
A bed that is never mine
As friends and other strangers
From their fates try to resign
Leaving men wholly, totally free
To do anything they wish to do but die
And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden... 
Dylan, Gates of Eden

We will never go forward if we cannot cease revisiting the past, the past being an Objects in the mirror are larger than they appear mix of gelatinous thought balloons and scratchy black and white home movies, scripted by early childhood patterns where the stars are the entire cast, seen through your lens, molded by antiquity, in memory lock-boxes, broken into simple paragraphs for easy recitation should the need arise, as it sometimes will, complete with peak special effects and categorized under autobiographical summaries.   If you took a microscope to the stills you would discover unidentifiable ghostly figures lingering in the background, beyond the camera's frame, mocking the events, cattle branding their own version of reality in challenge to yours.  Is this time going to be any different than any other time in all of history?  It is always the same Trail of Tears expanded to suit seven billion needy, seeking souls adjusting, adapting each with his own past and pregnant future, the movement of Jah people. 


*****

In dissection of the Instamatic public relations campaign surrounding the serial killings stirred with peyote bitters flavoring the cruelty wars on top of resource wars on top of wars of suppression and out of favor with the agency strawdog wars, it is stupefying once again to fully digest the utter lack of respect or appreciation for the mentality of ordinary citizen bystanders going about their lives hungering for normalcy, in spite of normal having lost any credibility as a lifestyle in sadsack Beetle Bailey's Fear and Loathing Smackfest.  We are pressed into "compassion without choice" for the untreated alkie, he is today portrayed as fallen hero, just another little person helplessly trapped exactly as millions of others suffering financial woes, foreclosure, a father of toddlers, the hero's marital union blissful, but stressed under economic hardship and loathing the separation of repeated Middle East deployments.  Amazing, huh?  We are tortured through media to love our homegrown Ted Bundies. Only three days ago, his alcohol problem and anger management arrests saturated the airwaves, including a brief mention of Major Someone you know from somewhere else attempting a sneak-in under the fence upon reaching base post slaughter, somehow he emerges to recover from one damning image only to morph into the confusing demeanor of victim.  Excuse me?  And those sixteen heinous acts of pointless murder?  Nine children, three women included, are they not the victims?  It becomes even harder separating fact from psycho fiction after pouring the entire situation into the re-election machine, coating the most merciless extinguisher in dripdry vote worthy good boy sheen, tell me again, God is on whose side today? Watch for the defense to A) plea post traumatic shock and B) cop rehab as justice. 

Sorry about your loss ...

So they got Gaddafi. The hunted, haunted giant Moose in Buddy Holly glasses. Erasure phase seven hundred and thirty one, or whatever, accomplished on the Wetiko to-do list.  One of the most serious, if not the most serious, barriers to looting the African continent for precious metals, Black Gold, water and jewels has been stealth undermined and viciously dismantled so the great global SuperCorps earthmovers can move in across the region and freely take without impediment while their errand clerks across the latitudes complain about entitlements. Now those protesting in Arab Spring Libya will be just like everyone else on the planet, without hope, without a future, without looking forward to anything, hey, welcome to reality.  Don't get sick, don't complain, don't demand because your cries will absolutely go unheard.  You will live out your days among what is left of your families, forever hungry, in the dark, freezing or sweltering, sicknesses and injuries untended until there is no more life left in you to breathe the fetid air from Big Everything's toxic processing plants.   


Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.
I am very sorry this is happening to you, we all are very sorry, our finite Earth has been flattened into one endless, lifeless, hardpan platform stretching beyond a fool's golden horizon of impossibly infinte growth, squeezing out every last coin from every last pocket and camel bag and body of water and gravel desert while we blogged online, connected through social networking sites and watched TV, all of which happen to be the weapons of first choice to use on the unaware until they are made aware by some creeping sense of imminent danger at which time, maybe the first time, you will notice the cameras and jackboots lingering beyond your garden wall.  We no longer know who is in charge, who serves at  who's pleasure, or where the money goes. You have already been slammed with the bloodthirst of star wars weaponry and explosives, all assets lost, whole cities annihilated dispossessing hundreds of thousands, the next stage will be civil wars based on whom is on whom's side, i.e.; what is and what is not OK to steal, regardless that everyone everywhere knows stealing is never OK. Expect gang wars in the palm groves. Expect the unexpected. 

It matters none with what side you are on, contracts will be let and contractors you shall have - parading around sealed inside the latest advancements in protection vehicles, equipped to mow you down instantly if you should accidentally get in their way, do watch out, especially the innocent, all of you are regarded as dangerous to the mission and subject to immediate vaporization.  


No home, no friends or family left alive, no food, no money, no reason to be anywhere, primarily not there.  This is when life becomes impossible, I know, we've been there more than a few times and yet, as you will see, there will be signs that a wonderful highlife is happening behind closed doors, you will get word, you will sense it by the revelry and off-limits clubs and hotels where you are not welcome.  You will gawk at the imbalance of life, you will be furious what began as something good has come to this.  You will go over it in your mind again and again, wondering how it came to be, you will remember it wasn't billed as it has turned out and you will have thoughts about why it happened the way it did and is, and you will never ever stop trying to overcome your new station in life because it is fundamentally unsupportable of any life at all, except a tiny handful of agents to agents somewhere else that are agents to somewhere else again and then again.  

What has happened to you and what will continue to happen is happening everywhere in the world, the humans have awoken from their slavehood and want real freedom just like you thought you saw as obtainable on daytime TV news and soaps.  The news is that kind of freedom does not exist anywhere.  Actors, elaborate film sets and commercial sponsors do not make a free people.  I realize you have no means to leave, but leaving is worth your consideration and leaving for another westernized geography is not recommened.  You are not important enough to the mission to be forced to stay, so grab only that which you value dearly and start walking, from now on think of yourselves as a nomadic tribe, seeking a place to plant your people for a better life, much like the Conestoga wagons of the 1850's old west, creaky and slow, but sure.   Stay clean, stay away from conflicts, stay out of cities, stay solitary except for loved ones.  Keep moving until you are sure you have found a safe spot to hold you and your children's children for a long time.  That will be very hard to find, I know, so you will be a traveler seemingly forever, expect it, relish it, pray for it.  Trust nothing but the God inside you as your Guide and Guardian Angel in all matters.  

The alternative is what the wastelands of Iraq and Afghanistan have become, massive obliterations of history, geneaology and culture and  worse, the sudden absence of everything that functioned, that kept you grounded in soceity, your whole sense of any identity has literally gone up in smoke.

By some incredible miracle you have been spared, it is this miracle now that awaits you if you can pull yourself up out of hiding, come out from under the rubble, despite injuries and trauma to your mind and your soul, there is more to life than you have been allowed to think and the time to discover it is right now.   You have been miraculously given another opportunity to open your heart to enlightenment and it does exist on Earth but only for those whose suffering matches yours.  You will make multitudes of new friends along the way.  Just look for the Light.  That is all you need to do, now and forever after.  Godspeed, Jah Guide and hang tough.

*wysiwyg, its not sci-fi anymore

OK, I give in, its time to write rather than experience.   Let's start with Su's most recent and insightful post with the artwork I can't keep from visiting as if it were the golden compass reaching out, pulling me deeper into each sublime, anti-directional vortex of purity, so what about the world, love is all that matters anyway.  The sooner they can get with the program, the better off we will all be. Yes, freed slaves, amen, Praise Jah I-Mighty! I decided to explore Su-san's thesis concerning deep thought "... alongside which arises a shallow thought."  The Beagle-Basset and I took off to the highest ridges in search of burn scars to paint, in fact it was going to be an episodic story within a story within a story.  Right away, well, as soon as we were a mile or more beyond the familiar, Su's statements on thought veiled themselves over a widespread cluster of Flannel Bush and Pinyon Pine.  Here is what happened: The journey was all about observing the wonders of Nature, the awesome variety of vegetation and the animals' habits and spare, but clever habitations, especially the Quail coveys who live inside thickets made by wandering Pinyon branch and tumbleweed.  We never reached any burn scars, the truth is I don't want to see them.  By this time next year, so much overgrowth will have reborn and within another year, there will be few, if any signs of wildland fire.  If you must see it, you'll have to peel off layers of bark to get to something burnt.  The obvious conclusion is our Mother heals herself.  Interpret that as the uselessness of a careless, sloppy, gullible species, unlike pollinators, unlike birds, unlike the variety of predators who manage species populations and species who turn the Earth and clean the seas for new life all on their own.  What do we offer anyway, but to capture them and throw them into laboratories, zoos and aquariums, drown them in oil, sell them and cannibalize them? When you are told the specialty of the house is a delicacy, you'll know you are being served Murder with Geno on the side smothered in Vampire gravy.  What I think Su san means by petty thoughts are actually guideposts we do not much like, thinking our previous state to be so deeply satisfying, we want to stay there.  We know exactly what she means, but I've made the effort to track what could really be happening when our minds depart from the exquisite as an apparent pettiness suddenly intrudes its way into our bliss.  These guidepost thoughts can be anything, but the ones we dislike the most are those having to do with an issue or conflict that requires your immediate attention. Your calm has attracted your sense of responsibility, desirous of balance, since only in a clear state will you be able to explore and satisfying all necessary criteria. 

Line up your petty thoughts for a minute and see what they are saying.  Try it now.  Perhaps seen this way they become warnings so that you may act to preserves your balance.  Or, perhaps the abundance of petty thoughts centered in one particular area of interest is telling you truths you would much rather deny.  While we can look to many events as being designed personally for us by The Forces, petty thoughts have a way of itemizing the bigger picture and thus initially appear to us as small, insignificant details, mostly unworthy of our character and therefore unworthy of note.  However, when you think of them as guideposts, you could be educating your way out of many mysteries and coincidences surrounding your journey.  Our minds can know far more than we allow, we are personally in charge of setting our own limits.  In this strange, hungry and dangerous period on Rogue Planet Earth, we are trained to ignore the obvious.  The obvious is of course, the elusive you are seeking.  I am certain we discard the obvious many times in the course of one single day because the obvious is socially damned.

This brings us around to the social acceptability of institutionalized belief systems in existence long before we came into consciousness, such as the death penalty, a pharmaceutics sponsored media ceremony packed with symbolism which Vivek recently compared to ritual sacrifice.

As the hours preceding the Troy Davis 11:08PM execution drew short,  a white supremacist was executed in Texas at 6:10pm, followed the next day by yet another execution in Alabama.  (I could hardly believe my eyes!) We tend to recall the seemingly never ending racial prejudice of the old South, and yet a white man in Jasper, Texas is taken out for his murder of an African American which might in the long run mean nothing, but Texas does have quite the record, does it not?  Rick Perry has allowed 234 executions to go ahead during his three terms as governor.  Does he think this makes him a popular guy? Surely the arguments pro and con will go on until the concept of execution is wiped off the face of the map.  I educated myself on both crimes and present you with another conclusion.  It matters not who is guilty, what matters is no execution brings back the victim. 

People clamor for justice in exactly the same way they clamor for the nanny state to do something, by God.  They have been fed the lines of dogma since birth and will never let it go. This is domestic violence and Stockholm Syndrome writ obese. They believe with all their hearts and minds they should have their high value justice, like a cheeseburger and fries, like flags and symbols of a superior race, like some sort of warranty for performing in a lifetime of going along to get along and paying taxes.  The very word justice and its ugly sister, revenge, will always be there because it is perceived as deserved, legalized payback by and for the people victimized by the crazies living among them.  Of course, they aren't crazy themselves, or disturbed, or misguided, or unclean with buried secrets, are they.  My friends, when you see these things unfolding, taking over your thoughts and visuals, you are witnessing the triumph of nothing less than the representative self.  The outside persona as media interviewee, justifying, defending and auditioning to win his/her rights that somebody must pay for every evil in their upside down zeitgeist where evil is the new angelic.

When are they going to face their truth?  This is why I've often inferred the ending of the War is far away.  What you see is what you get which has a way of inflicting worse as overpopulation bulges out of control.  I suggest the amount of evil may well be in close parallel to the amount of humans occupying the planet.

Justice and revenge are way up there on the to do list meaning that which we must resolve before moving ahead is possible.  They are waved about as threats, ultimatums and punishments and it should be especially obvious in this millennium they are ineffectual gaping holes in a crumbling overall system that appears to have no idea where it wants to go or how to save itself, instead over-breeding, over-consuming in the very face of resource depletion, crippling debt, mass indigence and over-entertains itself from sheer lack of anything better to do, void of creativity and absent any sensitivity at all to the necessary stewardship of the very Earth from which all of us should be down on our knees in humble gratitude for the incredible experience She provides every living species without exception.  I would go so far as to say every living species, sentient or not, but non-sentient is another myth designed to comfort yourself as you crush the hapless moth desperate for his freedom.  You can see how even the extremely smallest among them work themselves into frenzy trying to flee your assistance.

I wouldn't waste your brain trying to figure out what course of action is required, it is akin to attempting to unwind any institutionalized belief - beliefs frequently founded so long ago in a very different and far less crowded world, designed by ancestral representative-selves indulging their victors' pomposity in sealed Dickins-lite, that everyone acting it out in the present forgot what they are doing while conveniently blanking out the most elementary knowledge, All actions bear consequence. Those who perpetuate the backward system, thirsting for just-us and preaching revenge are intractable.  The integrated you, lacking a representative-self, cannot argue with an actor.

Perp (or not), victims and their clinging spokespeople, including the tragedy media and that vast complex of Death Cult-carpet baggers, I am sad for them all who willingly choose to blot out the healthier, higher understanding and greater purpose resident within the potential of every human being.  If we could just get to that place where everyone's minds/hearts/souls, those beaten down, dammed up, the authentic human underneath the publicly acceptable face interacting superficially with the publicly acceptable public, felt completely free to respect the oneness of all, in concert with right intent and right action, organically unable to harm, disrupt or disturb, there would be no need for the cages and needles, the cameras, the drones, the prejudices and the hatreds and evil deeds.  To change harmful beliefs held by others, you first must set the example for why that change is necessary.  To heal a terrible infection, you must first disinfect the affected areas.... and so forth.

For more on this subject, and as I mentioned earlier, Vivek shares his perspicacious revelations on the master scheme in three consecutive essays over the last three days.  I relish his discoveries.  They key into those realms we are not yet developed enough, and possibly never will be at this rate, to fully grasp, although we try and some of us come close, concerning the whole miraculous mystery, the Grand Design aka Something unEarthly, slippery, indefinable and just how it applies its magic to little citizen Earthlings.

You could get the idea we are nothing more serious to "it" than billions of nano-particulates in a glass of water.  Everything disastrous that happens is because "it" spilled the water, added more water, added alien flavorings to it, ran it through a coffeemaker, threw in some teabags and lemon, or sand, dust, electricity, dropped it, stuck it in the dishwasher or smashed it while having a tantrum.  We might be leftover crumbs on its table, brushed off and vacuumed up with all the physicists and scientists explaining how his/her theory means lah de dah.

Two worlds ... One love

Anybody can be the bad guy.  The gene exists in all of us, the trick is to remain aware of your surroundings and the people with whom you are dealing.  Check yourself and live up to the spirituality you profess to possess.  Keep giving and when that doesn't go over, give more.  There is no limit to your love and how much you can spare.  The multiples of recent events in human behavior show us how completely love is rejected because that part, the most perfect part of mankind, is ruthlessly promoted as terror meaning terrifying to the perpetrators and the terrifying consequences lying in wait for their victims.  One day, you're ridin' high in the saddle, it appears as if all is under your control and nothing will ever happen to upend that picture, the next, you can find yourself homeless or incarcerated, lost in the maze of just-us, wondering what happened.  As the years pass in your new state, since you lately have hours and months, whole seasons, even years to spend looking into the situation, the answer will come and it was probably as forgivable as a brief gap in your awareness of presence.

In the new world we now occupy, mostly as unwilling witness, its always about the money, which is what Lucifer is to Jehovah.  And while the money pits grow higher, the fear of loss of fortune grows in parallel like a fungus on an Oak limb, at some point, in the carelessness of riding so high, loss is inevitable.  This leaves open the question of where all that money goes.  At last look, it isn't going into anything related to love.  The money, which was the point all along, is far more than currency. It is position, power, influence, the ability to create and destroy at will and all the people who haven't figured that out, who like to think its about gross materialism, have no clue.  Money is the greatest and most deadly weapon of mass destruction known to the Universe.  Money's first and last priority is to destroy love and it is extremely successful in its endeavors to do so.

For many of us reading here, these were foreign thoughts not too long ago.  We led our innocent lives unaware  Lucifer was on track to take over humanity.  As you now know there is no palm left ungreased, eight lane parades of grasping fingers await our every action or non-action and there is nothing to be done about it except remove yourself from the insanity even if means you failed in your attempt to give.  Money is almost impossible to move.  It is granite, without emotional content other than fear and false desire, there are many people and places that will never see it our way and we have to accept that.  But that in no way means we stop giving.  Not until fortunes are lost repeatedly does one begin any sort of healing process and there is no guarantee the healing process will be seen through to its fruition.  That is just another part of possessing too much of it, the memory will press many into corrupting compromise which will strain credulity to the breaking point.  In time, healing comes and it may not come until catastrophe brings it around.  At least you will have left the peace of your person behind when an example is required which is all the more reason to give more, love more, wherever the opportunity exists.

We cannot forget the picture of the stunned Japanese official weeping because he'd shown more respect to his working life than to his lost loved ones.

We live in two worlds, two zeitgeists simultaneously, that of the illusion and that of our own.  Every single day the illusion projects its force upon us and every single day we reconcile the damage done while living in love.  This is why there is nothing to be done about it, it is with us by design and to be overcome in this lifetime.  It appears that the most evil of our species has the capacity to overcome, but until their own personal moment of reconciliation presents itself, you will have no impact.  Love and compassion can be nurtured in children, but adults are too hardened to the punishments created by the illusion's perception of love as immaterial and foolish bordering on amusing but stupid.  We are incessantly pushed to join up with behaviors we would never naturally agree.  The illusion has managed to billow out over our species to steal our sweat labor and destroy our minds.  It dangles lies in our faces and tempts with come-ons which are mere water on a duck's back for the true believer.  These two worlds cannot possibly meet in the present.  Protests are met with violence, sudden legal entanglements which place you directly in the center of their microscope where anything you cherished is taken and divided among themselves while you try to meditate in solitary confinement.  You do understand, this is no "game".  The illusion takes itself very seriously and yet, I am reminded of Fyodor Dostoevsky who wrote circa 1880, that there would be no need for a justice system if everyone believed in God.

I take that to mean the God within who prevents us from criminal behavior and keeps us living in love, giving and caring, this God lives in everyone naturally if they allow it.  But a system of flexible do's and don't's backed up with bloodletting, violence, massive destruction and evil incarnate is a masterful generator of wealth, power and influence and was developed over the centuries by madmen and women of monarchy obligated only to the empire of religious dogma, some of them very ill, mentally unstable, paranoid, inbreds, whose behaviors were emulated by the weak-willed acquiescent having lost any sense of reality through close proximity to treasure.  And the world of the illusion grew legs and arms and fangs.

What they missed and miss still is incalculable. The loss is a loss difficult to encompass in its totality unless you can feel compassion for their misery in spite of all the damage done and to come.  First, you have to wipe clean your hearts and minds of revenge for revenge (just-us) is not a natural state of being.  Accept the powerlessness of the situation and know your power within is infinite.  Even if you think its not there, it is there because you thought about it.

this wire fencing

Take every chance that comes your way to involve yourself with our world.  Recently I commented about the sheep escapes and poor ewe Bella, new mom, getting her head caught in the wire fencing.  She'd worked through one of the openings, stretching the wire around her neck to get grass beyond the pen and was stuck, bellowing in pain.  I realized in the emergency no one else was around or would be for many hours.  There was no choice, no thought, but to pull apart the wire with my fingers and squeeze her back inside.  And it worked.  Whew!  She was very grateful, following me around, letting me know how good she felt someone was there to help.  I massaged her neck for a good while and chatted about her foible, but the truth was I felt good too.  I was grateful to her, for her trust in what I was doing, at some points during the rescue I know my fingers made the noose feel even tighter, but all turned out well which leads me to the next event.

Buffalo in wool

It was announced the pen would be moving across the wash back up on the hill.  I made it known any fence work would require my presence since I was the expert now in group safety.  The next day I worked my freekin' ass off like never before, taking down the posts, baling the wire, hiking it all across the Amazon Jungle-style wash (deep, winding rainwater trench, high potential for rattlers) and up the hill, surveying the new parameters, slamming the post pounder and securing the wire to the posts with a needlenose.  The amazing part was keeping Amos the Ram separated from the females, not an easy feat since I've nicknamed him Buffalo.  Right away, Laurie put up a temporary gated holding pen, a "catch pen", which we used to divide them, the gate led to the pasture, which Amos was baited into.

In jackets, on a chilly spring day, with my friend who has a Master's in Ag Science which means I had an amazing running commentary on the keeping of livestock. (Did you know that sheep have four stomach chambers and that is why you will never see one lying on its side?  When they sit, its always up, like the Sphinx.) So there we were, two human ewes, two days living in the best part of the history of humanity.  It felt so good.  The sheep eat the long grasses which is fire fuel, if you don't mow, get some grazers whom you will nurture and they will give you back your life or if you think you never had one, show you what life is really all about in more ways than I have space to list here.

It does not further one to cross the water

We have a few new links brought to us from Charles in the Free Never Overdue Library over there on the left, please take some time to digest them. A big Thank You to Charles.

So now, it looks like we'll be leaving the Middle East having accomplished the stated objective. Perhaps this objective is included in the Status of Forces agreement with Iraq, and perhaps there never was a SOFA at all. And certainly, we can expect what is left of our weary troops to come home from Afghanistan, right, with their bodies and minds intact since PTSD will soon be a fading footnote in the Diagnostics Manual. And we'll have no more terror talk and idiots on planes doing weird things with their underwear and shoes, so TSA will be furloughing the gropers, right? Did Saddam even know Obama, I mean Osama? One thing is for sure, there will be no more fake Osama videos. Whew. Can Nick Berg come home now? There is one burning question we all need to ask at this time given all the bs that has taken over our lovely planet and that would be Did they hate us for our bank robbers? Heh, you bet cuz the robber barons know nothing of sovereignty.

Writing the blog today is a lot like the end of the year high school yearbook signing fest where everyone tries to nutshell what took place and how much their friendships kept them mentally stable during those times. Your closest friends were allowed to take up a whole page, the more full page memories you collected, the more popular you were. Since popularity is definitely not the objective here, we won't go into all the misery and mischief that has gone down since the towers blew, you are living through the aftermath already. You want to scream, fine by me. You want to cry too? Have a tissue.

If ever you are going to deliberately lie, you need to have an ironclad alibi without holes otherwise someone will figure it out. The problem we are looking at today is lies were told, so many that the liars lost track, got cocky and left gaping craters which immediately were filled by willing loyalists who only created greater caverns of disbelief continuing to remind the victim/shil/mark/you that the string of nonsense produced was just that, nonsense, especially as people were labeled with nonsense terms such as nine eleven enthusiasts, a rather nasty swipe reminiscent of much older ones, nigger lover and close kin to injun lover, updated today to tree hugger, peacenik, pothead and doomer. My friends, have we any skin left that has not been burned, stung, smarting still as loss grows exponentially into greater and greater loss? We stand naked before it, the united federal lying machine, an entity with one sole intention which is to erase anyone who does not go along with the program and worse, anyone who is unable, especially for all the reasons created to keep us never, ever examining holes, buy into the program. What can sweatshop slaves buy into anyway?

We want to ask, hey, what happened? All THAT for what?

I'm fond of Stephen Crane's short story The Open Boat written during an especially dark literary period termed Modernism and published in 1898. You should read it through and if you do, you will remember it for the remainder of your days. It is brief and appropriate for these times:

..."If I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned, why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees?"...

In other words, and you will be doing that all the way through this timeless work and again as it reinforces itself repeatedly in human interactions: have we come so far, suffered so deeply, loved so dearly, endured torture and needless oppression beyond all reason, all for nothing?... What plan? June 2010 archives

Yes, we're back bobbing on the waves in sight of land we'll never reach in Stephen Crane's The Open Boat, we came so far, suffered so deeply, loved so dearly, endured and lost so much ... all for THIS? More than a freekin' decade of that and now this? Get real! Such horrors we would not wish upon our worst enemy, if we had any enemies. We do however, have deviants among us that do wish such things, painstakingly plan and live for the moment to carry them out. Here is your news sir, the lie is over, I am sorry for you because you have no reason any longer to thrive in your deviation. We have instead a series of real life disasters taking place in front of our very eyes and now you must redirect your attentions which means many of you will have nothing to do at all since solving the problems of the suffering is not part of the personal makeup of your representative-selves of whom you are held hijack. You will have gazillionz of trillions coming in now to fix our little oil dilemma, hopefully you will not pretend you misspoke about hologram Osama's instant sea splash and keep kicking the resource rich nations in the groin, assassinating their children, their blood seed, running the old regime change hustle on sovereign peoples, dragging NATO along where it was not officially empowered to assist. We can hope, but you will do what you will do. That is who you are.

You are known by what you do.

The supposed death of the supposed cult leader will change nothing except to further reveal the extent of the disruptive and diversionary psychosis that grips westerners. This latest has everything to do with keeping afloat multilayered fabrications designed to bestow personhood on the global sucking vampires who are not persons at all. They must at all costs keep their failing Ken doll twirling in his executive swivel chair rather than let some over-rich, balding, Chateaubrianded version of Rev. Terry Jones as a rug-headed TV personality realign the people's perceptions yet again. Further, they absolutely require the gods of hyper-jibberish to continue waxing on the hallelujah recovery in order for all of us to reawaken our diminished senses of need and gas it over to the nearest Wal*Mart to consume nonstop at the nonsense trough.

For an interesting mental exercise, imagine the amount of advance coordinated planning that went into gathering thousands of fresh-faced subteens together in front of the cameras, all of whom strangely appeared at first glance to be celebrating Mardi Gras, gushing in glee over the news the old evil hologram met his demise, much the same as if Sukie, the waitress fairy, put an end once and for all to the True Blood leeches.

Now imagine this: The time came the slaves no longer needed the whip for they knew their place well and knew there would be no escape for the remainder of their miserable days on Earth.

So much tragedy barely holding together a weakened, beaten, downgraded infrastructure and disgruntled populace. We could have skipped it entirely and just gotten down to work. Think of what beneficent wonders could have been accomplished during a whole decade had it not been for the neoCons' deathmatch journey into Nevernever Land. Instead, we could be this very day supporting something such as a global Earth-friendly volunteer association open to every nation, developing and otherwise, for sharing resources while simultaneously cooperating with all educational and scientific institutions in discovery and implementation of sustainable systems for poison free agriculture and healthy alternatives to factory farming and slaughter of livestock, realistically addressing the limits of the planet as finite and dealing humanely with overpopulation through multitudes of small and local enlightenment programs which include safe and freely distributed birth control.

We will not be participating in anything remotely as necessary as you can plainly see since baldfaced lying is still perceived as the only way to advance the insatiable hunger of imperialism, which in itself is nothing but covetous, outright theft when you lift away the altruistic veil. A veil which you may have noticed, isn't fooling any of the victim/shil/sufferers/you or me or anybody, anywhere. Thus we get this shabby little Osama story thrown at us interspersed with hundreds of other shabby little stories as if the dumbdown stage was just one of many checklist missions accomplished.

Truly, it makes you wonder what pact with the devil was made to get that which was perceived as so necessary.

Thus, we continue on the treadmill of zero resolution while repeating all the same tired mistakes which brought us to this point of collapse. Abusing Nature and her creations, rampant, heedlessly warring wherever the natural inhabitant species have been intentionally weakened over time, dispossessed and disoriented. We will go on as we are, awakening each day to incessant distortions and deformities of species behavior, including that of the human species, corralled and broken down into levels of useful servitude or slaughter, and all of it for one disgusting, egregious reason, that no thinking person discover the truth behind the greatest and greediest lies since all of recorded history. This is why there will be no repair, the damage done and damage to come is too great. When something this severe occurs, you must go back to the beginning and start anew, something which will never be considered in the program since what we are talking about is comedy for the annual Correspondents Dinner.

Centuries ago when the idea for this experiment towards a better life was undertaken, how many signed on to get away from exactly that which continues unabated and exaggerated today? It does not further one to cross the waters because the same and worse exists on the other side. There is only one safe haven and it is not here, it will only appear before you when the time is right.

How can the time possibly be right today while we measure radiation clouds and the Gulf floor steadily, irreparably, seeps dark, deadly grease destroying any possibility of renewal? Have they yet tasted corexit in Niger?

More on the subject, and don't miss the comments:

Exit the Excuse ... But Elites Insist Their Wars Must Go On

OSAMA BIN LADEN

And my favorite new phrase: Managed Perception. Wow, that's just like managed care or debt management or anger management. Everything must be managed now, you know. Otherwise, things might take their natural course and that is hmmmm, extremely dangerous.

When Does "Managed Perception" Become Reality? Note that Charles never mentions Osama, but he doesn't have to. All of it is related as our frequent readers know only too well.

So Jah seh

...What's wrong with you my brother
So jah seh
Ye are the sheep of my pasture
So verily, thou shall be very well
So jah seh... Bob Marley

It is in keeping with the general Wetiko hallmarks that Rogue Planet Niburu would be the cause of all these recent disasters.  Yeah, right.  This absolves them (they think) of any responsibility for anthropogenic climate change which in turn allows them to pump up the fantasy.  And as long as people believe it, because it is on woo CNN, it must be gospel.  Drop by Dublin Mick's office for some reality.  He's in session at this moment.  If Niburu goes into the archives, all you have to do is click on the previous post arrow.  He makes it all so simple.  Indeed, there are some of us perhaps a little vacant on the Niburu story, as we are on a few other stories, because there is SO much going on in Mother's house lately, it is a little hard to be on top of it all, all the time.  Dubs doesn't seem to miss a trick.

Last night the man on the couch with his feet on what passes here for a coffee table, his rectangular plywood slab on a round wicker base because carousing dogs broke the former top, jumped up to announce "That coward is going to attack Libya!"  He then went back to what I thought was TV watching, but apparently his mind was wrapped around extra external events in that interesting way which later on proves he was solving mysteries with facts.  This is why I've said in the past he's always right.  I know, its not easy when the only other human in the household is always right, however, I've learned to listen, coupling it with my own observations, it looks like we are going to undergo yet another erasure of a functioning society.  You know how it goes by now.  I sped by a headline recently about Gadaffi's coffers emptied by the you-know-whos, I can't verify it with a link, but again, as I said, financial weapons of mass destruction are the first and last resort.  But what do we know really?  If we don't see a Saddam in the spideyhole/headlice exam followed by the noose, how would we know all these guys and their stand-ins are not living it up in Paraguay soaking up the Guarani Aquifer while sitting in a Cialis bathtub on Ecstasy.  Between the very real possibility humanity will vanish from the face of the Earth in a nuclear winter and the prevailing Wetiko paranoid fantasies, anything we might have to say about it is not a consideration.  Somehow, like circus performers learning how to walk the tightrope, we have gradually steeled ourselves knowing anything can happen ... at any time.

I caught Rachel Maddow's interview with Naomi Klein tonight.  You might like to read the transcript which does not yet exist on MSMBC's site.  Here is where it will show up in its own good time.   Naomi really has her act together.  Not a single blank stare or "Um", just straight shooting drawing from her book The Shock Doctrine, the rise of Disaster Capitalism and how disasters are perfect for a Wetiko strike during which everyone in the shock of disaster is already disoriented by what is happening on the ground, thus they are in no shape to grasp the scale of their losses. I'm sure you are familiar with Naomi's works.  Of course there is more to it, the Wetikos are relentlessly busy and they have all sorts of secret compartments in which they labor, all designed to produce the most from the least without the responsibility of having created mass destruction, horrific losses, each event taking us further into that alarming possiblity I mentioned earlier. While we're at it, let me just mention here that as long as they are into farming disasters, just like big ag, there is no stopping the escalation.  This naturally creates a mental chart with a red line going straight through the top where it says Implications of Universal Imbalance.  Well, somehow you could get the idea if they keep it up, even climate chaos pales in comparison.  Certainly, we do not want to let our imaginations get carried away, but you will recall Newton's Law of Motion:  Every action has a reaction. 

First hour on planet Earth

We, meaning us, not them and us, actually have a choice in these areas.  Several.  Ignore it and love your life.   Or, listen with one ear and watch with one eye while loving your life.  The other choice is to succumb to hyper paranoia and make yourself a sandwich board to wear at the main intersection in your locale.  That last one will definitely get you into diversionary hot water or at least squashed by a tea party bus on its way to an Alaskan meet-up.   

Day three on Planet Earth

I chose the second coping strategy.  Scarlett the sheep had her two babies on the morning of March 3rd. It was and is one of the most holy experiences I've ever had just to witness the miracle of something old ranch hands with huge corrals of livestock probably take for granted.  It seems that Scarlett is a most fortunate ewe in that she was not just one of thousands, but surrounded by great love and joy.  We expect Bella to repeat the holiness next week, hopefully producing two lambs because three means you have to feed the third.  Ewes have only two nipples.  I have been spending time holding the lambs which puts real truth to the phrase "gentle as a lamb".  Over the past few days, they have grown thicker coats and are up wandering around testing the limits of their pen which is growing larger everytime I visit.  There are a lot of things to watch for out here, coyotes and the occasional mountain lion, however, every precaution and protection has been taken and predators don't really want to take on Dad, Amos the Ram, who is a sweetheart underneath his unsheared wool.  Stella the Mustang miscarried two days earlier and could see everything going on over at the Sheeps' mansion, so I spent extra time with her and gathered huge bags of grass as a diversion from her loss.  I've been talking her through it, we all know its best to honestly address another's sorrow, especially those among us who can't speak for themselves, still she made herself clear that nothing will be exactly back together until she has a foal of her own.  This will happen, but not this year. Horses are in gestation for eleven months. 

Meanwhile. I'd like to express gratitude to the people who continued commenting during my sabbatical in ag science.  I used to feel a self-imposed pressure if something new didn't make it to eblogger at least every week, but no more, thanks to chickory who once said the time inbetween posts doesn't matter and to Scrap Wood who gave me permission to quit blogging altogether.  There are many other things out there calling us and we should take advantage of those most promising spiritual growth however possible, although sometimes we don't know what surprises we shall meet, whatever they may turn out to be, the opportunity to create spritual growth exists everywhere.  When you find yourself stacking logs you are participating in the real history of humanity, most of all you are joyously weaving yourself into stewardship of God's intent.

How do I know God's intent, I don't, I wouldn't begin to presume, but everyday we are made more aware of what was not intended.

Kali at the gates

Certain friends who comment here are insisting I stick around no matter how many weeks in between posts.  This is good, helpful and believe it or not, I've actually composed a few essays and deleted them as not being entirely accurate descriptions of the issues and impressions of this profound period.  Every question that appears to have an answer only brings up more questions and concerns and possibilities that rumble around in the back of our minds where certainty has not yet attached itself.  Everything, when looked into in greater detail, adding in all the considerations for all involved, appears to be insolvable and yet we have come this far on insolvable questions already, sometimes a few are solved by the luck of the draw, but quickly return to Darkness extended.  This says that the question of the life experience itself may very well be unanswerable in the way we want it to be answered.  It doesn't mean we don't have a plan, many of us do, but are unable to act sufficiently on our plans because too much of these plans are dependent on variables over which we have no control.  That's where the good old "wait and see" comes in, unless wait and see turns into the painful and slow evaporation of any plan at all.  Taking apart wait and see, you'll realize it is procrastination costumed in hope.  Now I have always stressed here that hope is as equally empty a human expression as belief, both being variations on wishful thinking which is a real phenomena and often at the root of denial.  Hope, belief, wishful thinking are age-old tools for coping with the harder parts of our journeys and not to be trusted if you seek truth.  I'm thinking these worthless tools have been passed on to us since the days we wore natural coats protecting us from the harsher elements in cave dwelling and kept around because our brains had not yet developed more complex thought processes other than those of our immediate physical needs i.e.; food, water, shelter and sex.  Throughout the turf wars of empires past, people typically clung to magical falsehoods, myths as truth, thinking they were real, alive, inviolate and worthwhile.  In return they became devastated with disappointment and susceptible to plagues, even greater penury than previously thought possible, enslavement, imprisonment and inhumane execution where their hopes and beliefs were sometimes suddenly, sometimes slowly and always cruelly dashed.  All of this still goes on and has mutated over the centuries into regal platitudes of hope and belief as public panacea which unfortunately turns out to be better stated as language used against hopers and believers:  a "dogmatic softening of the target" in order to accomplish whatever it is the regals' plan of the day is trumpeting, which regals themselves are by necessity prone to integrate subliminally.  An example of this would be universal health care.  This is how they can stand before huge crowds convincing the hopeful and the believers, they have convinced themselves they stand on the highest moral ground while omitting an important detail, that of their very own immorality.

Hurricane Katrina, photo: c. Google Images 

We end up confused and in denial.  Denial on the part of the peasants and denial of true intent by the regals empowering situations such as the one in which we are currently embroiled in all its absurd fullness allowing massively over-bloated egos to attempt one world government, a misnomer if there ever was one since the real intent is empire with unfettered possession of free resources anywhere desirable resources exist.  The best term would then be Planet Ownership since governing as we think of government isn't actually happening and has not been happening, perhaps it never happened at all in the way people hoped and believed it was.  In retrospect, Katrina opened our minds to that very possibility and all disasters since continue to reinforce it.  Consider that it has taken the judicial system more than nine years to vote in favor of the 911 emergency management workers, more than a few of whom are long dead and buried.  Consider this in context of having a plan and leaving the implementation up to hope and belief. Consider how non-citizens are slammed with US law which does not apply outside our borders and yet we know the cleverness of the corrupted, focused minds at work will find a way given enough hope and belief from other nations who have grown dependent on that borderless Santa Clause leadership sleighing in with IMF reindeer from the mythical shining city of the company store to whom world citizens are supposed to owe their souls.  I've come to find by reading various items on the net a great many of us feel that 911 was the beginning of all the horrors that have taken place since, but those discovered horrors only show us what was eliminated or glossed over, briefly, during formal education, formal because it is designed to form.  The Internet is here to fill in those weak and blank spots without the Tinseltown touches, but you have to seek or you shall never find.  I will even go so far as to say you have to know suffering to find out why suffering exists.  Suffering, great suffering, has always been around and knowing it only comes though identifying with suffering because you suffer.  Identification with suffering can only happen if you get those stars out of your eyes.  You have to have blown your life repeatedly to understand no matter what you do and where you go suffering is a natural part of life in this world for every one of us except those people who don't think they suffer because they have hope and belief to keep them from cashing in their chips.  I wouldn't worry about them, they are an anomaly to mankind.  They've always been around and plan on going to the grave wrapped in a shroud of marshmellow denial regardless of whatever lives they led.  There are too many categories in which this group falls to mention them all.  I will say these are the invested who do anything to please, typically we call them errand boys, clerks and mostly we know of them as enablers.

Squatters camp California 1936 by Dorothea Lange

It does appear that with each passing day the gates are closing a little more rapidly each time you look and the recourse to complete work camp enslavement and elimination of the needy, sick and elderly cannot happen on any lesser scale than what we see taking place in these energy wars.  We don't win wars anymore because the people being warred upon know their enemy well.  This has not always been the case, it is only with the advent of 4th generation warfare (the elimination of face to face linear combat where anything goes) and nonhuman weaponry we were able to enter into the state of winless warring at all.  Honor vanished, if it ever existed, replaced with disgrace and never ending defeat.  Now, with world population at an all time high and expected to increase, the conquering of bordered masses of human souls is impossible, no matter how much money is to be made, no matter how much death, disease, suffering, outright theft and occupations of puppet governments, no matter the resources at stake, there are simply too many bright and clever people applying their hearts, minds and skills to these operations for the aggressors to accomplish exactly whatever it was they planned and the warmakers, as you know, are underwriting their performances of power while balancing spectacular, ultimately unmanageable deficits.

The best empire can do is foment civil war and sneak around behind the scenes while hope is warring with belief.  Oh they feared that loudly according to the pundits promoting Rumsfeld in video clips denouncing civil war as absolutely the one element they did not want and yet that is their only way, the last card to play and not even that last card worked in Iraq and it sure won't work anywhere else considering the foibles of ego gone wild playing out in Afpak and anywhere else in the Sustainwesternizationistans.  The greatest failure of the regals is their inability to recognize mankind's sentience and durability to survive in spite of suffering.  That link by the way contains Linh Dinh's message, but Counterpunch displays it more easily without the photo download wait.  I strongly suggest you peek and when you are done then visit his blog for visuals.  No one can say cities are any worse off than rural municipalities, each has its own flavor of suffering which overall is desperation as hope and belief show themselves to be useless push backs against the inevitable. 

If we were in a stage of our evolution where cruelty was banished out of sight and mind, which is in part what empire historically promotes so we won't interfere, we would not be able to reconcile suffering in terms that fit in with our lifestyles (strange word - zeitgeist alert) and would ignore it as some alien noise from the outside that had nothing to do with us.  All of that changed, again thanks to the web and thanks to the overpopulous amping of efforts to control and coerce brought to us by the same technological development that make the Internet possible.  This is yet another take on the double edge sword of being alive during the great toboggan downhill slide of Peak Everything.  In Peak Everything we play musical chairs everyday, every sleepless night under a comforter of dreams while nothing is done to alleviate even minimally the collapsing of social order.

In the world of our dreams we are replacing the missing chair, giving of ourselves without restraints, sharing our tables and sitting at the tables of our friends, all without wishful thinking, but creating the best of ourselves, the humanities, the things that last, the passing on to future generations real survival skills and the realities of our pasts, our love and our nurturing in ways that will see them into eternity - the way it was meant to be without making up useless phrases and deifying false gods because none of that is needed to be truly human.  The world of our dreams will never come about without honesty, tireless compassion and the absence of shame, paranoia and guilt.  As long as we bear guilt for our ruinous investments in nonsense we remain tied to the abusive wheel with which we steer all species into oblivion. In the world of our dreams we recognize the right of everything to exist alongside us without taking advantage because we are all that we need to be exactly as we are and always have been.  And yet, in spite of all we think we know, don't know and learn, see and experience, what is IS. There is nothing else. 

Why anyone, especially at this point in time, would entertain hope and belief is beyond me.  Sure, there is the occasional feel good human interest story put there to sustain the wishful.  After all, it is the wishful making up quite a lot of the sub-party clans that you will note have not been able to get through their agendas, sadly making laughing stocks of themselves as if they are nothing more than another television junk reality show.  Ask yourself just whom exactly sponsors these shows and why.

Last word: It is a HUGE tragedy among us that intelligent, decent people can put up a very direct and truthful blog post only to rescind it hours later on the grounds naked, unvarnished truth will bring them only deeper and more immediate suffering.  Such events tell us the truth of our present and are omens of what we can expect this new year to bring.