Friday, October 23, 2009

Mea Culpa in the Miso Soup

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Probably a lot of people want to know what’s up at Casa Visible. This I intuit due to commentaries designed to cause me to stray from my determined course. You might be surprised to find how I actually live compared to how you think I live. First things first.

Whenever a person sets about telling the truth they are going to come into competition with lies. Lies are big money and they fuel your wars and they coalesce the companies that plunder. Whenever something is a major criminal enterprise such as; money, pussy or drugs, you can be sure that the government and the business community are silent partners. This is how they fund all their illegal behavior from things they made illegal to begin with. Some things should be illegal in a sane society, like human trafficking and loan sharking. Then again, most corporations do the former and most bankers do the latter every day.

So... all in all... it becomes something of a gray area. One thing you should know- these days- is that the government is not your friend when it comes to their market share. There is no real government anymore. They merely front for the corporations.

Because I got hit a lot when I was a child, something went wrong with my serotonin flow. The government and the corporations would prefer that I just bought the regular bottle of Scotch or went to my doctor for an anti-depressant. In all honesty and to be fair, I tried those venues and found them to be worse than the condition they were supposed to relieve. Since I have tried just about everything, I would know. Here is what I know about that. The legal end of what was available is the only thing that really messed me up and I stay away from that action these days.

It just so happens that in my travels I did find something that treated my condition and it worked like a charm. It also happens to be illegal. Well, so are insider trading, routine murder and a host of other charming pursuits that the corporations and governments get up to every day but hey! They are the man. Like Bernie Madoff with his cocaine and silicone-tit, fueled Ponzi scam, that’s all right if you are in the club... for awhile. Most of the time, you can get away with anything because you are the power that makes and breaks the rules.

I’m just some guy on a private mission who needs certain elements for his ship. I landed on this outlaw asteroid awhile back and I’ve been trying to get airborne since. Maybe I shouldn’t have developed the compassion that I did develop on behalf of a lot of the residents but... I did. I took exception to the way they were being treated by the overlords- while I was also looking high and low for the elements I needed to power my ship- and I may have said a few things about it so... there was a period of years there where I got to be a Public Enemy without the advantage of looking like Johnny Depp; that might have been just as well since I became a guest of the state for extended periods now and again.

I make no apologies for being out of my mind. From my personal perspective I can’t see how the rest of you oblige these scoundrels in their relentless bullying ways but that’s you. It ain’t me.

I go by the old stand by of ‘trust but verify’. I apply this to most of my engagements. I look at religion and I know it’s a marketplace that conceals a living wonder. I throw away the excess and I take what’s vital. I look at the rank hypocrisy by which your public servants rule you and I make my own rules. If it works for me then it works. If it doesn’t, I discard it.

Now I see that certain probes are being extended in my direction to see if I will promote behavior, that I might personally engage in, among those who follow my work. I never have and never will. My constitution is different than most peoples because I’m not a native of this planet and what works for me might not work for others. I have it on good authority that there are others like myself here; shipwrecked on this flea market planet and trying to cobble together the necessary parts to get our various conveyances back in the air and from there back to civilization.

I don’t want to drink Scotch. I don’t want to take dangerous anti-depressants. I know what works and what doesn’t. The corners I cut do not result in the same massive loss of life as does the activities of those trying to suppress the seekers and entrepreneurs among you. The fact that I am still standing and in better shape than most is a testimony to the fact that I must have some idea of what I am doing and... by this time... I know that the agents of the dark side that run the show here, for a little while longer, are lying sacks of shit who have no interest beyond self interest and couldn’t care who they hurt on their way to maintaining the status quo SNAFU that they routinely engage in.

It just so happens that I do have certain information that is useful to the saner residents of this planet. There’s nothing all that exceptional about it. I come from somewhere else so I can see things differently than the way most people have been programmed to see things here. The main thrust of what I am about is a change in consciousness and it has nothing to do with ingesting chemicals of any particular type, be they legal or illegal. If a visitor comes from another planet, it seems to me that it should be common courtesy to allow them whatever comestibles they prefer and to leave them alone with their native customs. Unfortunately that is not an automatic here. This has no bearing on what I do however.

The irony of seven thousand tons of opium, which I don’t use, flowing out of a war torn area where it had previously been suppressed by those now being hunted by the very machine that is profiting from this item should not escape the notice of even the most stupid of you but... I never underestimate the power of stupid.

I don’t provide anything to my readers but information and the occasional musical cds or books that they might order without my needing flashing LED adverts on my pages. When I am fortunate enough to obtain a certain item that assists me in my unfortunate stay here- which isn’t often- then I am grateful. It is a failing of mine that I am generally too honest with the reader about my personal behavior and maybe I should make an adjustment in that respect but... I feel I am in the company of friends and tend to behave that way. However, not everyone who comes here is a friend nor has my best interest at heart and I can tell when they show up, I’ve got that particular implant.

Far be it from me to ask those of you who are incapable of being honest with yourselves to be honest in any other way. I wouldn’t dream of it. If you think I’m going to play patty cake with your incredibly, unskilled efforts to make me out as something I am not, well... that’s not operative.

I’m pretty clear about most things and if it’s not clear you have only to ask. I’m probably one of the most law abiding people I know because most of the commonly understood laws make sense to me and I abide by them. I draw the line at the laws which are created for the benefit of corporations and government whores who break them on their own time any time they feel like it.

In the long run it is probably better to leave me be, as you should already know. I don’t work for you but I do work for someone and that someone has a lot more weight than your employers will ever have and you will just wind up looking like what you are, after it is over. Spare yourself this. You have enough embarrassments to be concerned with. You don’t need one more which will also serve to make my case far better than I am already making it on my own.

I know the ins and outs of your various ways and what you are capable of but these are very different times and you do need to keep that in mind. The hounds you formerly unleashed at will, may no longer serve you in the capacities you are used to and you wouldn’t want to find that they are prepared to turn on you now as they might well do. I am the Dog Poet after all.

End Transmission.......

Visible sings: The Sacred and The Profane by Les Visible♫ Miracle of Love ♫
'Miracle of Love' is track no. 11 of 13 on Visible's 2007 album 'The Sacred and The Profane'
Lyrics (pops up)

The Sacred and The Profane by Les Visible

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Monday, October 19, 2009

The Rise of the Stupids and the Fall of Rome

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

I saw where someone referred to Kayne West as a genius. This sort of half excused him for his public embarrassment of saying that certain musical judges had picked the wrong bimbo to be awarded one of those Cracker Jack prizes in the tits and ass ensemble of modern culture. We know all about ‘cultures’ here at the Petri Dish. We’ve got thousands of glass slides with things growing on them and as much dry ice as you’ll find at any of the major concerts.

I tried to listen to some Kayne West so that I could catch some of his genius but I was compelled to turn it off before the genius part appeared. I did search engine his lyrics and here’s an example of what I got at random. I scanned a few more but I’ll spare you that. You can find more on your own time.

I can’t go to the S&MSM without coming across the name, ‘Gosselin’. It’s there every day. Every day, there are details about this train wreck that includes a brace of sextuplets. They were, or are or maybe they will be again, the biggest reality show going. Someone is making this an ‘in your face’ situation. Someone is behind the scenes pumping this excrescence into the collective mind’s water supply.

Someone made Kayne West famous and I suspect it was not his genius. Someone is searching the landscape high and low for new possibilities, day after day for another bad light to present you, the human race, in. I haven’t seen any network TV in many years. I watched the 2000 election on CNN... then there was another long dry spell on the other side. I don’t think I have to watch any of this to get the sense of what it is. Evidence of the impact of culture on the conditions of life is evident everywhere. There is cause, motivation and intent.

A decade or so ago, Disney hooked up with Tavistock and MKUltra on a little genetic experiment. They’d seen what happened with The Spice Girls and they wanted to expand on that concept, so the lab techs cooked up some polystyrene Mouseketeers and groomed them for the celebrity chute. Out came a Spears and a Timberlake and an Aguilera too. N’Sync and other permutations followed. There was an interesting contrast between white bread polysaccharides and gangsta-rapping, Hilfiger jacket wearing, expletive artistes.

In a time of war and plunder, stupidity is a rampaging nation’s greatest asset. If you don’t plan ahead you have to fly by the seat of your pants. This isn’t all that hard either given the location of the brain at the time.

It seems to me they stuck their toe in the water with that MTV show, Real World. It’s as real as you want it to be baby.

It is interesting... or it will be interesting to future archaeologists to explore the myriad similarities of the time. No doubt they will come across scientific papers that detailed the isolation of the Agent Stupid gene. Maybe it will turn out that it was a laboratory product that was added afterwards. It doesn’t matter if it was always a part of the human organism or if they created it. What happened ...happened.

In entirely different laboratories they were working on soft drink cultures and they found that aspartame and other chemicals most definitely made you fat. Fat and stupid are a formidable combination. On the social end there appeared the psych workers whose job was to legitimize every excess as another painful road to general acceptance. As the all embracing arms of the modern world were extended to clasp every emerging perversion to her perfumed breast, the fisters and pain freaks; the pedophiles and animal amorists, the pierced and the bound brought forth the new vision of the returning Jesus, morphing into Ashtaroth rising from The Pit.

In the middle of this unbridled excess there came the Speech Police who monitored every word and phrase for bias against the engines of decadence as rapture. On the one hand, freedom was license. On the other hand, objection was crime, as was accurate definition. Definition of anything was an illegal restriction, unless the definition coincided with the intent of those creating the conditions.

Madonna became a mystical cabbalist and if one looked closely they could see the flaming Hebrew letters dancing up her inner thighs to what is purported to be The Promised Land. Here the Roman armies had trekked a time or two before. It was the Lincoln Tunnel at rush hour, transmogrified into the gates of St. Peter.

In the times before the times that awakening crashed down upon the malls and media, hypocrisy became the most celebrated performance of the day. Powerful leaders could wax eloquently about peace, while murdering shepherds and farmers for the fuel that lay beneath their fields and gardens.

As the job opportunities were erased, the military opened their gates to the ranks and rows of canon fodder, which moved in slipstreams from the unemployment benefits lines to the enlistment lines. The survival and self interest centers of the human herd were amplified and intensified by invisible beams from cell phone towers. The effluvium from pharmaceutical factories was discharged into the water supplies; they had to stone the village in order to save it. Men grew breasts and women turned into hydras. We entered through the rear end into the Land of Myth and Legend.

They electrified the fantasies of children with tales of super heroes, bound in service to the very forces that created the mayhem in the first place. The state became the First Temple of Unholy Prostitutes that worked for the Mac-Daddy Pimp corporations.

It did not matter as one new absurdity followed the other. Nothing real remained to compare it against. The unreal had become real. The prophet had been sent packing and humanity itself was just another commodity on the endless rows of shelves that curved away into unimaginable distances. Somewhere, impossibly far ahead, was the checkout counter.

Somewhere, far, far back in an unremembered past, it had all begun. Was it the result of conditions imposed or was it written into the genetic code? Somehow the abusers always had a great deal more cachet than the saviors. Was it before or after Esau?

There appears to be no limit to how insane it might become. Whatever it is it will seem normal and woe betide the unaware who question its presence. The impressive and indomitable force of stupid, reigns supreme over the land. Stupid is genius. Stupid is God. Stupid is as stupid does and stupid does what it pleases. Stupid will kill itself before you day after day and then rise from the dead to lead the legions of stupid to the place where stupid rests.

They have not yet opened the gates of the chittering worlds that wait behind them, in the coliseums where you have been marched, at the behest of Stupid. There is still a semblance of order and the highways of hope are constructed by the hour and woven out of the words of the liars who have led you to this place. The true beauty of Stupid is that it will never occur to Stupid what it cost and what was lost. Perhaps Stupid is indestructible and is the heir to a kingdom that only he can see. Some certain and profound confidence motivates Stupid and only Stupid knows what that is.

Sometimes you just run out of things to say and... this is one of those times.

Visible and The Critical List: La Vierge Sperme Danceur by Les Visible and The Critical List♫ The Clicking Mandibles ♫
'The Clicking Mandibles' is track no. 4 of 8 on Visible and The Critical List's 1987 album
'La Vierge Sperme Danceur'

About this song (pops up)

La Vierge Sperme Danceur by Les Visible and The Critical List

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Friday, October 16, 2009

Up their Sleeve on All Hallows' Eve

Dog Poet transmitting.......

Sitting here and thinking; what are we supposed to say today? The grey wolf is moving down out of the foothills of the dying year. The sky is milk and the furnace is on, as one of the major holidays of the dark side approaches. Yes Samhain, All Hallows Eve, is coming. The High Priestess of Beltane will be studying herself in the makeup mirror and dreaming of Spring. “Oídche na h-aimléise” is on the way. The veils between the worlds are supposed to part for a night and that would explain the variety of congregations amidst the heather on the moor; in uptown penthouse apartments, in the sub-basements of European castles, ancient church ruins, desert and darkling deep.

It’s easy to find the mark(s) of the shaman in the human hand. I’ve got them. Certainly some of the readers here have one or more as well. If you have the mark of the shaman, or any of the occult sigils that set one apart, it can bring the unusual into the life of the one possessing them. Should that person take certain substances from the vault of Nature, you’ve got a Marshall amp with a volume knob that goes to 11. Seasoned psychedelic travelers are well aware of the portals that lead into the stairway of the mind. The stairs go up and the stairs go down. For those with the propensity and ability- the result of karma and certain initiations in the past- the door to the stairway is open. Otherwise it is not.

Don’t go looking for the Mark(s) of the Shaman, that’s my term for it/them. However, you can readily find the location and names of the signs that indicate an affinity for the occult and arcane, the unseen and unknown. Sometimes, like now, larger portions of humanity experience internal transmissions because some large and pervasive changes are on the horizon. The hand is an extension of the mind and therefore it gets imprinted with a record of the general direction of a person’s thought, both conscious and sub-conscious. It’s said that the passive hand is the hand you are born with and the active hand is what you’ve done in the particular life.

I’m not a divinatory type, except as the intuition chooses to grant me insight through the car windshield on occasion. This is why, even though I made a pretty exhaustive study of chiromancy and astrology, I didn’t move in that direction and focused more on the esoteric end of the sciences; and sciences they are. There’s a test you can take which shows whether you have the points that indicate possession of the astrologer gene. If I remember correctly, there are 49 of them and the more you have, the greater your innate ability. I didn’t have too many of these points. In any case, why bother predicting the future when you could be employed at changing it? This is why, though I studied the Tarot for decades, I stayed away from the divinatory side of things. Those who are attracted to card reading are, very obviously, unaware of the real purpose and value of these pictorial archetypes.

Eliphas Levi said, “A prisoner devoid of books, had he only a Tarot of which he knew how to make use, could, in a few years, acquire a universal science, and converse with an unequaled doctrine and inexhaustible eloquence." I’m going to go on record and say that this is a true statement. People; the means and mechanisms for understanding anything are available. The reality is that most people are not inclined to look. They are also the first to say that there is nothing there, based on their lack of effort and inquiry.

I’d appreciate not hearing from the reader about how Levi was a Satanist... or any other disparaging comments about people you haven’t met. The good guys are often mistaken for the bad guys and vice versa. Take what’s useful and leave the rest.

Here is a great quote by Madame HPB, “There is a road, steep and thorny, beset with perils of every kind, but yet a road, and it leads to the very heart of the Universe. I can tell you how to find those who will show you the secret gateway that opens inward only, and closes fast behind the neophyte for evermore. There is no danger that dauntless courage cannot conquer; there is no trial that spotless purity cannot pass through; there is no difficulty that strong intellect cannot surmount. For those who win onwards there is reward past all telling - the power to bless and save humanity; for those who fail, there are other lives in which success may come.” This stands as one of the most beautiful and inspiring things I have ever read. Take this as a daily reminder and see what happens.

I’ve been mentioning certain things in my meandering way for a reason. There are four ‘low’ holy days in the satanic calendar. Walspurgisnacht is the biggest and after that is Halloween, more precisely known as All Hallows Eve. It should be considered a no-brainer that a considerable portion of world leaders and other public luminaries are Satanists. In many cases they are unconscious Satanists but that makes no difference in respect of the ones who consciously serve the king of the underworld and manipulate them.

Just as one can be possessed of- and in communication with- the intelligence of angels, the reverse is also true and much more likely, given the particular time in which we find ourselves. If something is confusing you that is probably the purpose of it.

Bilderberger, like most similar gatherings, are exoteric institutions that front for the esoteric behind the scenes controllers. They gather- both the exoteric and esoteric- at certain times to plan out certain actions and events whose goal is to further the interests of the warden on Jailhouse Earth. We’re hearing a lot about October 25th. That should be considered a general date representing a particular period. It’s pretty close to All Hallows Eve. There are reasons why certain predatory nations attack others at particular seasons.

Our circumstances can be best illustrated by the traits of a tsunami. You have an earthquake and then the waters recede. Simple minded folks take this as an opportunity to explore the wonders of a newly revealed ocean floor. Others will know something is up but they won’t know what. Others will hightail it for higher ground (cue Stevie Wonder).

Tsunamis, like desert floods in a dry wash, can happen in a short period of time. Everything can appear to be moving along normally- depending on what passes for normal- and then, suddenly it is upon you. We are often lulled into a state of false confidence. Today we see a handful of powerful firms, manipulating the stock market, in order to give the impression of returning prosperity. The reason they are doing this is to (yet again) suck in homo ordinare and send him to the cleaners for his missing suit.

The point of this missive is to tell you that everything which happens has two possible sources; divine or infernal agency. Of course, this is only the right hand and left hand of a single force. Every demon has a luminous outline behind it that signifies the particular angel in disguise. Each of us has to work out our own awareness of this. If you have done so then you know the meaning of the phrase, “be not afraid”.

Like I have said many times in the past, though never as effectively as I might wish, events and conditions are not going to turn out the way that anyone expects; regardless of whether you are a participant or an observer. It’s better to try to focus on what you cannot see as opposed to what you can see. One of the primary things that people need to comprehend and adjust to is that the power within them is greater than the appearance of power outside of them.

The kitchen is dark. The cat waits below the breakfast table for the mouse behind the refrigerator. The mouse is safe where he is. Consider the mindset of the mouse. He knows the cat is out there. Ask yourself what causes the mouse to run out from behind the refrigerator. Ask yourself what force is acting on the mouse. Consider the serpent and the bird. What is it that roots this flying creature to the ground as death approaches? Here we have two different examples of the same thing.

Don’t judge the inherent benevolence and compassion of the universe by your personal lack of it.

Visible sings: Almost A Capella by Les Visible♫ Light Up Ahead ♫
'Light Up Ahead' is track no. 1 of 12 on Visible's 2007 album 'Almost A Capella'

Almost A Capella by Les Visible

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Tuesday, October 13, 2009

A Meaningful Stroll down Memory Lane

Dog Poet Reminiscing.......

I’ve never fit in here. For a long time I thought it was some kind of a curse. I tried to fit in and that generally ended in tragic-comic results. It seemed like life was playing a joke on me, which didn’t strike me as funny a lot of the time. Other people seemed to integrate effortlessly. They knew what to do in different situations. To me it always seemed like I should do something else and that something else did not mesh with the demands of the circumstances or the world I was in.

I got into trouble with the law as if it were some innate ability I possessed. They keyed on me even if I wasn’t doing anything. It wasn’t just the law. It was also the established church and certain emergent organizations with pretensions of becoming the established church. Most of the time, all I had to do was open my mouth to offend someone and I didn’t even know I was doing it.

One time a couple of teenage girls came up to me in the park. They wanted my opinion on Scientology. I told them I thought it was a form of satanic mind control. My kundalini had not yet awakened but people often came to me about different things and I often had a crowd around me because of the things I said. I didn’t know the meaning of what was happening to me. I didn’t know who I was and there’s an argument to be made that I still don’t.

Later in that day these girls came back to me and told me that 'they' wanted to talk to me at the Scientology building. This was the flagship location for the firm in Washington D.C. They weren’t nearly as powerful and rich as they later became but not much has changed, from then to now, in what they are and what they do.

So... I walked over to the site from DuPont Circle and a woman of about forty some years invited me into her office. She asked me what I knew about Scientology. I told her I was familiar with the book, “Dianetics”, and that I thought it was some kind of a scam. In those days a lot of energy was coming off of me so that it wasn’t always what people were hearing from me but what they were feeling. We only exchanged one or two following comments when she jumped out of her chair. She was trembling and unhinged. She screamed at me. “Get out! Get out of here. You’re a suppressive!”

I smiled at her and just walked out of the building. Over the course of the rest of the day and the following day, people would come up to me and hand me a folded slip of paper which said, “I can no longer speak to you or acknowledge you in any way, you are a suppressive.” I thought this was pretty funny and it didn’t matter to me one way or the other whether I encountered these particular people again anyway.

What followed I only found out about later on when a police detective confided in me. Representatives of Scientology went to the police and told them I was a drug dealer and a corrupter of the young due to possessing a Svengali-like persona. They were very insistent that the police do something about it and the police were more than willing to accommodate them.

The police sent a couple of guys into the park to work me. One of them was black and one of them was white. I still remember the name of the white guy, Eddie Verone. There were some amusing events that came out of this but the results were not so amusing.

The first time I saw them they had come into a circle of people where I was talking about something or other. During these days I often said and did things without knowing why. It was all part of pre-kundalini thing. I had gotten a strange hit from these guys so the next time they showed up in my circle I started singing that Dylan song, “Ballad of a Thin Man”. After a moment or so, one of these guys got really uptight and started screaming at me, “Are you saying I’m a cop!” I said, I don’t know what you are. I was usually pretty calm, no matter what was happening and that was because of changes that were taking place inside of me, due to the acid I was ingesting. Probably I should have been paying more attention. I was paying attention. I just wasn’t paying attention to things like this.

At that time I was a close friend of John Hall, who went on to form the band, “Orleans” and did a lot of studio guitar work with certain rock luminaries. Today he’s a congressman in New York.

It should be mentioned here that I was not a drug dealer in any sense at all. I was a consumer. So these undercover cops had to come up with a plan to snare me. They approached a fellow named John Reed who was a serious ne’er do well and who was a drug dealer. John and I were standing in the park a few days later when John Reed came up to me with these guys and said they wanted to get a few ounces of weed from a friend of mine named Frankie who lived in Virginia- ergo Federal implications. I was the only one who knew where Frankie lived. All of us wanted some pot and there were a couple of others guys around who also wanted some, so they decided to pool their resources.

I did not trust the under covers and so I said, “I’ll take you there but I’m not touching any of the money”. That was cool. We got in two cars and drove to Frankie’s place. John Reed jumped out of his car and ran toward the building leaving me behind and one of the undercovers called me to a car window and said, “Here’s $20., get me another ounce. Stupidly I took it and said, “I’ll give this to John". Of course, John was in on it, which is why he ran off. It all went down and we returned to DuPont Circle. A few days later I found out there was a warrant out on me and so John Hall and I split for the West Village in NYC.

Some time later we returned to D.C. and I went to stay with John at his parent’s house in suburban Maryland. His parents were wealthy and very straight. It didn’t take all that long for them to begin to resent what they felt was my strong influence over their son so... and here it gets murky again... a few nights later we were having dinner when we heard a bullhorn outside the house announcing the police and demanding I come out, or else. When we opened the door there were spotlights blazing in our eyes and a number of policemen with guns drawn etc.

I was arrested by a famous Maryland, narcotics officer named “the White Rabbit”. The murky part is that later I was told that John’s parents had leaned on him and he told them I was wanted and I was betrayed to the police. This kind of thing happened to me a lot.

It took six years for me to get a pardon for this nonsense; most of the time I was on the run ...and some of the time I was locked up. Every time I managed to get out I left immediately again which is why it took so long. As far as I was concerned I had done nothing wrong and I wasn’t about to cooperate. I never have and I never will. What I choose to put in my body is my business and not all the king’s whores or all the king’s men will ever change that. If I think a law is reasonable I will obey it, otherwise I will do what I think is right.

The point of this tale is that through all of the things I endured, I evaded all of the terrible things that happened to others in my situation and I am here today with no regrets except perhaps in the area of my early, romantic behavior (grin). I believe I was protected and looked after because there is a higher justice and if you put yourself under its wings you will be okay. If you buy into the temporal BS, or you accept guilt from those guilty of far worse, then the conditions are different.

I believe the same things apply now and always ...and anyone who is willing can place themselves in the care of a power greater than anything they will come up against or... you can rely on your own devices. I would caution you against that. Shit happens, it is true, but when you are ‘in the way of the one’ it always works out to be something better than you expected. Lessons must be learned but there are a lot of ways for that to happen.

End Reminiscence.......

Visible sings: Songwriter by Les Visible♫ Every Fairytale ♫
'Every Fairytale' is track no. 4 of 10 on Visible's 2006 album 'Songwriter'
Lyrics (pops up)

Songwriter by Les Visible

The New Shangri-La.

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Saturday, October 10, 2009

The not so Nobel Prize

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Let’s be honest, I used to think about the time when I would win the Nobel Prize for Literature. I remember watching the Paul Newman movie, “The Prize” when I was younger and living vicariously therein but since I have grown out of my teenage years and am now in my early manhood, the scales have somewhat fallen from my eyes. Yes, there was a time when I would imagine my Playboy interview and all of the things I would say; how they would catch me in my day to day and make those cogent observations that the interviewer always made, in the little snapshot vignettes of intimate moments with the enfant terrible, or idiot savant; whichever one of those I turned out to be.

There were the times when I considered traveling to the south of France to see Maugham in his dotage or T.S. Eliot, when I was coming down from an acid trip. I once ran into Herman Wouk getting his newspaper from in front of his townhouse in Georgetown and another time it was Jean Dixon out watering her flowers. Both times, I was at some point of an acid trip and in both cases it was agreed that, “we’ll get together for a chat later on”. Apparently I didn’t follow up on that, probably due to yet another acid trip. I did manage to see more of Elvis in LA and Palm Springs, probably because I wasn’t tripping at the time, although I might as well have been. I don’t know what kind of acid the Nobel judging committee is on but I’m pretty sure it’s bad acid. It’s probably a lot like the brown acid that was going around at Altamont. I didn’t take any of that.

There was a time when I though honor and recognition had some sort of value. I believed they conferred legitimacy; an artistic imprimatur, though I’ve always been more Giordano Bruno than Thomas Aquinas and I’m not Catholic anyway... staying within the strict definition of the term. Still... the beckoning laurel wreath, the admiration of my fellows had its appeal in my callow youth. Something has changed along the way. I saw what the Royal Academy did to the people who really deserved the recognition. I saw the sort of people who got honors and the kinds of certificates The Wizard handed out to The Scarecrow.

The Nobel Prize was always the crème de la crème of awards and I hung on to that for awhile, along with the Academy Award for best song but... those have tailed away into insignificance as well now. When they gave the Nobel Prize to Kissinger, Begin and Eli the plagiarizing Weasel, the bloom went off the rose as the wart grew on the nose. If I remember correctly, Lil’ Georgie Bush and Debonair Tony Blair were nominees/ sorry for the interruption, I had to go outside and throw up into a potted plant. I feel better now.

These days I can’t think of any award I’d be likely to get tumescent over. They say that when goats get in rut they piss all over themselves in the process. I wonder if there’s some kind of connection there. Nah... like so many things in life that aren’t, it’s probably just coincidence. These days, I think if I were to get a Nobel Prize, it would be an opportunity to donate the money to The Charlie Manson Fund for Undead Mothers and the chance to give one of my Clive Barker channeling Mother Shipton speeches. At the end of the speech, I’d moon the august assembly with some pithy statement stenciled on my ass. It’s not like I didn’t do things like that in earlier days on smaller stages. Some of us have more Martin Luther in us than others.

So they went and gave a serial killer of a used car salesman the Nobel Peace Prize. The rollicking irony is just too much. I keep snorting and chuckling to myself and then shaking my head. The sheer beauty of it... ah... (shaking head yet again) well... sigh... I’m thinking he might have got the prize for all those unmanned drones in Pakistan. That saves lives, if you consider the possibility of one being shot down and there being no dead pilots but... I’m told the votes were cast two weeks after he got shoehorned into the White House.

See, this is more of The Apocalypse at work. Day by day you see the dramatic exposure of modern corruptions. Day by day, the creatures of the night are being dragged into the sunlight. In many cases, they are waltzing out on their own and waving for the cameras like your friend Mitterrand just did; gag me with a rent boy.

It shouldn’t be too much to ask that Boris Yeltsin gets an award from Alcoholics Anonymous for Distinguished Service in the Afterlife or something posthumous for Pol Pot; something to do with humanitarian service. Roy Kroc, I’m sure, got a lot of awards and Bush and Blair are going to keep getting awards until they go to their reward which... I have the suspicion is not going to be along similar lines.

I’m reaching, I know, but what can anyone say about things like this? The absurdity has gotten to the point that it’s truly difficult to come up with workable satire. Satire is a form where you blow something out of proportion to highlight the truth of the subject. Ridicule and exaggeration are often employed but it’s like when the limbo bar is laying flat on the ground. You have to dig a trench to get under it. There’s serious work involved.

A reader informed me that it was a good thing I wrote my ‘snake-eyed liar’ post when I did because if I’d waited it would look like sour grapes now.

Members of the Nobel Committee, you are a pack of ignorant sluts. You ought to be producing infomercials or working for one of those home shopping networks.

I can’t find the names of the judges and I’m not surprised. It’s funny when you go looking for who did what. Sometimes you just can’t find out. Try to find out who actually wrote those Homeland Insecurity documents. Try to find out who gave the orders given by the people who got the orders and passed them on to the people who carried them out. There are a lot of mysteries in this life. One of those mysteries is; why do you never see a Rothschild on the Forbes list? Come to think of it, I can think of a lot of names that get left off that list. It’s easier to find out “Who put the bomp in the bomp shibomp shibomp? Who put the ram in the rama lama ding dong?”

We have some idea of who the man is “that squats behind the man who works the soft machine”. We can toss names around but there’s always that shadow land thing where you can’t quite make out the faces of the actual individuals who actually made certain things happen. You know it came out of a certain department or foundation. You know that it benefited certain people but when you go looking for the salient details, you see the umleitungen sign and you automatically follow the lead of the path of least resistance, due to the programming that build the roads and the mindsets of the world surrounding the automatic confinements of the boxed in minds.

You want irony? Mahatma Gandhi never got the prize. Imagine that? When they gave the prize to the Dalai Lama they said it was, in part, to make up for Gandhi not getting it. I’ll bet that made the Dali Lama feel pretty golden about the thing. Of course, he’s already the Dalai Lama so it shouldn’t hurt his feelings that much. However... ponder all of the ramifications of this paragraph for a moment. I’m thinking, even though they didn’t say so that maybe they gave Kissinger the award to make up for overlooking Molotov and Ribbentrop previously.

Bob Dylan wrote a song called, “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll”, there’s a line that goes, “take the rag away from your face, now ain’t the time for your tears”. At the end of the song he varies the line just a bit. Well... life over the last several decades has been a lot like that line and, with every passing day, we seem to be getting closer to the altered portion of the closing line. This ugly travesty of a whore in bridal white is one more example that most people don’t mind eating shit if you serve it to them warm.

End Transmission.......

Visible sings: Almost A Capella by Les Visible♫ I'm in my Car ♫
'I'm in my Car' is track no. 2 of 12 on Visible's 2007 album 'Almost A Capella'

Almost A Capella by Les Visible

The New Shangri-La.

Petri Dish oil slick Reflecting Mirror.

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

The Power of Conscience in the Human Mind

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

A lot of people are deeply troubled about the world and the times in which we live. It could be that these things have always been going on but we just never realized it to the extent that we do now. There’s so much that we know now that we didn’t know before. We know that Israel is nothing more than a front for the Rothschild banking family and we also know that same banking family worked to put the regime in place that performed some amount of mayhem upon a variety of people for which a specific people took all the victim currency and that the whole thing was arranged to set up the mechanism so that the Rothschilds would have their own country and here we are today.

This country now threatens the entire world as well as controlling a number of the most powerful nations via blackmail, economic leverage and media control among other things. This same country is in the forefront of a relentless effort to destroy the family unit, Christianity, Islam ....and promote a moral breakdown via a number of avenues which you can easily guess at and see and find the names involved as well. You can tie actual people to a variety of causes that presume to offer certain civil rights and sexual rights protections whose true agenda is something else and you can see it. You can take the names and you can associate those names with all kinds of other evidence but... even though it’s right there in front of you and can be identified and defined, it’s not there because the people standing right in front of you doing what I just mentioned say they are not... evidence be damned.

A reader pointed out at Smoking Mirrors a couple of days ago that the six-pointed star appropriated by Israel and called the Star of David actually comes from the Hindu tradition. I think you will find that the essence of every religion and valid symbol in the world does so... there it is. We’re finding out that historically a great deal of the Old Testament is a lie. It’s a fabrication that is increasingly being disproved by modern research and excavation.

We’ve always known that a great deal of history is a lie. Every time we look deeply into something we find out it’s not what ‘they’ said it was. The crimes committed against the German people at the end of World War 2 were truly horrific in scope but they don’t get discussed. What took place during the Bolshevik Revolution is a known fact but it’s bypassed when it’s taught in schools. American policy galvanized the Khmer Rouge murder spree. We know this but the details are smudged and fudged so that the same thing can happen again somewhere else and be explained the same way again; just as Kissinger is explaining Afghanistan in relation to Vietnam in Newsweek and never once mentions the role he played and is still playing today. He’s one of the major war criminals walking around today.

I don’t know if it was because he went after The Queen (not Elton John) or Henry Kissinger that caused Christopher Hitchens to desert his principals and become a drunken buffoon of a sanctimonious hypocrite via manufactured epiphany on no road I know of that runs to Damascus. Something happened. Obviously someone had a serious talk with him. I knew him before and I see him now and I thank god I am not him. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lie every time you sit down at your keyboard and know you are lying but a whole lot of people do. I imagine I lie sometimes, if only by assumption but every thing I’ve said so far this morning is a granite hard fact and easily proven. I’ve proven these things to people before and they look right at the hard, cold facts and they go, “those aren’t facts”. You can show people straight out how they are killing themselves and others as well and quite often you will make them angry because the truth is an enemy to the fantasy they call their lives.

Oh I could go on and on like beautiful Pacific combers on the pristine shores of a Polynesian beach on a perfect day but that’s not why I’m here today. I’m not here to trot out the same indisputable truths that liars dispute in defense of the lie that is their lives. You know these things or you don’t. Certainly you will find out one way or another because one of these days you will be there because that’s how it works and that’s what I want to talk about now that I’m halfway through this thing.

People often mention The Lord of the Rings here and that includes me. The parallels between the worlds are amazing. What hits me most strongly is how The Ring was the power that united the minds of those engaged in the dark efforts. Once the ring went into the volcano, the servants of Mordor became unhinged in their minds and dispersed in confusion. There was no will holding them together any longer. I see the same thing due to happen here.

Those whom we can say are serving the dark purpose have an impressive array of weapons. They control the general flow of information. They have armies and terrible weapons on hand. They control most banks and governments. They control the markets and therefore most of what is connected to them. Those of us milked and manipulated by them have very little in defense. We are not even organized among ourselves but we do have some weapons that will, in the end, prove more powerful than anything they have or ever will have.

Our greatest weapon is their conscience. Most people have one but few people are aware of what is invested in the conscience. The conscience is empowered to destroy the one possessing it, once sufficient violations have occurred. The conscience is a time bomb that warns you as you approach detonation. Those obsessed with self-interest see it as a mere annoyance. It is far more than that. It is an integral component of existence itself. It’s not to be trifled with.

Another portion of the dark servants is the psychopaths. They have no conscience. They are a peculiarity of the times. Whenever materialism becomes seemingly preeminent, psychopathy flourishes. It is a part and parcel of materialism. Materialism, since it is based on the worship and acquisition of temporary things, is doomed according to the life span of the very thing upon which it is based; the phenomenal world. It is also therefore a religion.

The engine that powers psychopathy is the same engine that powers everything. A mere throw of the switch removes the force of its being. The progression of coming events is going to trip that switch and it is also going to activate the explosive potential of the conscience in everyone betraying their own best interests and that of their fellows. The conscience is a shield against going the wrong way. The wrong way, like the right way, is a destiny in itself. It can’t be compromised on the way to resolution. When the levers trip every single person is going to experience the truth of their relationships to everything around them and to themselves. This is what the paradigm is about. This is what it’s all about. It’s not about what’s going on outside and around you. It’s about what’s going on inside of you and the values by which you have defined yourself.

The cosmos is a precise and perfect mechanism with a definite purpose whose intention and processes move through a vastness of time and event far beyond the scope of the human mind. That’s why it often makes no sense to us and why people insist that no divinity, worth the qualities attributed to it, could exist as such, given the tragic occurrences we see here. Our vision, intellect and awareness are all much too limited to see the whole picture. However, as I often like to say, just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there and just because you can doesn’t mean it is.

One of the things that materialism attacks is one’s faith in the deeper truths. Accordingly it becomes difficult to hold on to your certitude, provided you have any. Doubt and despair war in our minds because of our reliance on visible evidence. It doesn’t look good. Still, I want to say once again, there’s a reason for everything and the whole drama is under control and working toward a definite and telling end.

Think hard on these things and consider what we know of history. Consider what great art has shown us and the visions, lives and pronouncements of the extraordinary souls that have passed among us and left their footprints for our consideration. Some things you have to do all by yourself (at least it seems so) and some conclusions and convictions you must arrive at on your own or you will never truly possess them. That is up to you. It is better to possess the higher qualities that are there to be found in all of us ...and which adversity can reveal in trial and trauma, than to be possessed by the alternatives.

End Transmission.......

Visible sings: Songwriter by Les Visible♫ Everlasting Love ♫
'Everlasting Love' is track no. 2 of 10 on Visible's 2006 album 'Songwriter'
Lyrics (pops up)

Songwriter by Les Visible

The New Shangri-La.

Wordpress Mirror site.

Friday, October 02, 2009

The Greco-Roman Polanski Method

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

I’ve never had much attraction for Whoopi Goldberg. I never found her funny or talented except in the way certain overblown characters mock their humanity. Whatever it would take for a person to be willing to appear on Hollywood Squares would be enough to guarantee that we would never meet except by unfortunate accident.

Whoopee says that it wasn’t “rape, rape” and "All I'm trying to get you to understand is when we're talking about what someone did and what they were charged with.” She also said something about how they look at things differently in Hollywood. I can’t recall the exact quote and I don’t want to go looking for it because her picture might come up again and I don’t want to go through that twice in one morning.

I read the grand jury testimony so I know what Polanski did. In the process of a photo shoot he managed to finally get her naked in a hot tub. Then he relocated her to a room and performed oral sex on her. Then he penetrated her against her will which had been compromised by a Quaalude he gave her. I’m familiar with what Quaaludes do. They were very available at one time. Then, he penetrated her anally. Here’s the point where serious outrage can make an appearance but anywhere along the route will do.

During the course of the legal process, he paid the girl off and his pricey lawyers did what they were hired to do and cut a deal with the judge. Apparently the judge backed off on the deal and it looked like Mr. Repulsion was going to prison so he did a Houdini to the old country where he’s been plying his trade and living among his peers in various locations. He went to Switzerland to accept an award and he got arrested which is where he is now. I’m less than a hundred kilometers from where he is at this very moment.

I lived in Hollywood for awhile. I knew some people and that was an in for all kinds of things; meaning I got to got to certain parties and the upstairs rooms at certain clubs. That’s not a big deal. All sorts of people know people and some of them aren’t even people. Hollywood is one of the centers of psychopathy on the planet; like D.C. and NYC and anywhere that large populations congregate to grant a larger selection of victims. In Hollywood, the money men run the place. Anything goes depending on who you are and I mean ‘anything’. Thirteen year old girls and boys are as available as after dinner mints; younger ones too.

Satanism and its sister cult, Scientology are very big and very powerful. There are some heavy players in the satanic subculture. You won’t have heard about them because they really do keep a low profile. They celebrate the four low Holy Days in grand style. Ritual murder happens and that’s just the way it is. Normal people can’t grasp what some of these people get up to. It’s another order of thinking.

As a writer and a cultural anthropologist, I have more than a natural curiosity about things. I’ve also got a great deal of caution when it comes to things like this. I wanted to know about certain things but I didn’t want that to be known so it’s a slippery shelf.

When you’ve got a certain kind of ‘in’ in Hollywood you can run into just about anyone. Ancient celebrities, the up and comers and all of those who make their money being around them are ubiquitous. Where I lived, I could look down on Milton Berle’s pool. I was on a street called Wolf Drive, if I remember correctly. Other times I lived in the heart of Hollywood. The strangest people in the world are there and you see them every day. You see young children selling themselves on the street. Not much gets done about any of it. There’s a huge brooding demon that squats over the whole town. I’ve seen him.

So when Whoopee says things are different there you may rely on that being true. There’s no moral compass whatsoever. It’s the most natural thing in the world for people to screw each other over on a routine basis. It’s the way things get done. The surprise in the Polanski matter is that it ever came to light in the first place. These things are usually handled discreetly. They happen every day there. Parents know what’s happening and many of them willingly offer their kids because of the possibility of fame and fortune.

Six months was all I could take of the place, although I came and went over the years at brief interludes. I’m not going to name drop. It would serve no purpose. Their world is not my world. My world these days is pretty much me and the dogs and my consort and her mother. I might not speak to another person- except whatever salutations are exchanged at the check out counter or the cash register- for long periods of time. I don’t really have anything to say to anyone because whatever interests me does not interest others most of the time. I had the good fortune to receive a visit from a reader recently and that was wonderful. It had been nearly a year since the last time this happened. I’m a recluse and I like it just fine.

I’ve seen the world that Polanski moves in over here. I’ve been to St. Tropez and other places. I’ve seen the enormous yachts and the glitterati glittering about. I’ve never seen people take themselves so seriously. They love their importance among their fellows and, like in Hollywood, they scheme together. They look for the angles. They set out after each others husbands and wives. Scammers move among them like barracuda around a reef. When you don’t want anything from anybody you see things that others can’t see because their vision is compromised by their desires.

I don’t know what to think about Polanski getting arrested. I don’t care much one way or the other. He’s into dark things, this I know, so... who knows exactly what brought him to this pass? I do believe in Karma and that’s what we have here. I also am aware that this is The Apocalypse, more rather an apocalypse and things happen at these times that don’t happen at other times. All sorts of people are being exposed and destroyed in various ways. There’s a force of judgment loose and it’s going about ...passing judgment. It’s going to increase as time passes and there are going to be some big surprises.

I hear from a lot of people who tell me that the reptiles and other soulless husks have got everything sewn up. I see people imagining all kinds of things. The fact is that nobody knows what’s coming, including the people who think they’re running the show. They are not running the show. They are mere object lessons. They are being manipulated by a force that cares less about them than they do about their victims. They are in hard hands with no mercy on the horizon. Polanski and his apologists are just more of the deluded who demand one standard for themselves and another for everyone else.

Young girls and boys are simply party favors at the grand buffet, where the high steppers strut their arrogant disregard for the restraints that their lessers are confined by. They think the party is going to go on forever but that is not the case.

Someone wrote to me this morning to tell me that I can’t be very aware and awake if I don’t know that ‘all’ the natural disasters are being caused by the illuminati. That’s ridiculous. I don’t doubt that they are up to things like this but there are a number of things happening simultaneously and the only connection between them is the times in which they occur. We are at a certain point on the cosmic clock. You can think of the cosmic clock as a three dimensional item where planets are passing in relation to each other through a continuum.

When the auto was invented there were a number of people working independently on producing a car. The same goes for most things that appear in this world. Certain forces rule at certain times. Civilization, if you can call it that, has reached a nexus and things are going to be shaken up. There’s a purpose to it all and a dynamic. All kinds of things are going to happen; are happening.

I believe in a greater good. I do not believe in the world of appearances that give power to temporary things. I am convinced that everything is under control and not by the fools who imagine it is them who hold the reins. Grant yourself the freedom to be confident no matter how things look and your fortune will follow suit.

End Transmission.......

Visible sings: Songwriter by Les Visible♫ Fade Away ♫
'Fade Away' is track no. 3 of 10 on Visible's 2006 album 'Songwriter'
Lyrics (pops up)

Songwriter by Les Visible

The New Shangri-La.

Wordpress Mirror site.