Dog Poet Transiting.......
May your noses never be unnaturally brown.
Yes, the beat goes on, no matter how many trees you run into. Bad songs tend to echo down the ages, like when they sing about the beat going on and the beat is actually beating you down and it scares the shit out of you that someone who can actually dance to it keeps saying, “I got you babe”. Scary stuff. Well, that's show business, where a cyborg Cher can dance with a zombie Bono, off into the brown haze of an East Rutherford sunset, while the beat goes on.
The beat goes on in all kinds of ways, at all kinds of levels, to all kinds of degrees of pervasiveness. Sometimes the beat changes and, “I got you babe” means something different and implies something even more different in the long run. Then you get military themes and the beat syncopates to canons and the rata tat tat staccato of small arms fire, as those who stole everything try to hold on to it, while those they stole it from struggle to survive with less than possible.
Those are the times in which smooth regurgitaters (cue Sade) close ranks in a projectile vomiting duet, looking for a barbershop quartet effect and the bar gets lowered to the point that not even a cockroach can get under it. Somehow they did though, proving there are life forms lower than a cockroach and there are life forms even lower than this and that would be the ones who finance their movements, whether it be howl or bowel. You know you've reached the nadir when you can't tell which end their speeches are coming out of and we are not here referring to any gifted abilities at ventriloquism.
Meanwhile, dumb and dumber, dress up in their cheerleader outfits and wave their pom poms. It's been on the way since they laminated the first layer of Formica on to the first piece of press-board. It's been coming since the '59 Cadillac. It's the logical, red headed stepchild of Levittown. In truth, it's older than makeup.
One of the little known facts about materialism is that it simultaneously makes you selfish and stupid at the same time. That's the original SS. There are mind Nazis and heart Nazis and the heart Nazis are the worst. You can't fix it. You can't change it and you can't make it humane and compassionate. It has to run its course and it is why civilization fails, in the times when it proliferates and it only proliferates in times of darkness.
In times of material darkness, entire sciences are created that are designed for the sole purpose of legitimizing it and every depravity that it breeds, in the hot suffocating confinements of the fornication sewers which provide its offspring. Materialism has its agents and they are most easily identified as the ones who profit the most from it and are engaged in the extremes of its productions and perversions. It's a religion as much as anything else and every religion has to have a Big Kahuna with a particular jones.
Like I said, Gnosis is a snake. It's the same snake in either case, only the posture and the effect are different. Like the commercial says, “It's the same thing, only different”. That's sort of like, “new and improved”. How can something be new and improved? “It's the real thing in the back of your mind”. Of course it's not the real thing in the back of your mind. Isn't the medulla where the atavistic, reptile brain is located?
The thing is, materialism gives birth to mimicry, where the shadow pretends to be the light. What happens is you get a false light; like the lights on Broadway (cue George Benson), or the lights of Las Vegas. It's the kind of thing where the RamaSita dynamic is turned into a hot-pants romance, which brings me back to the makeup make believe, where the point of the attraction is the intention to deceive and you get what you pay for. This is the origin of the diseases that accompany the process and we are not just talking about physical hitchhikers. It's kind of like Land of Snakes Butter. Your politicians, religious and economic leaders are venomous snakes. They're right when they say, 'It Can't be Butter'. It's axle grease from the wheels of a polluted industry that moves through the bloodstream of the heart's greatest sorrow, 'It Can't be Love'. It's a little like Cocaine, which makes evil attractive and why forced blowjobs are more satisfying than the willing kind; not that there is any lack of either.
When I was in Hawaii, the big thing among the younger set was anal sex because it negated concerns over unwanted pregnancies. Of course there were progeny nonetheless. It's like something out of Clive Barker's “Weaveworld”.
This all comes down to the need to legislate and legitimize everything wrong into anything's right. People have always done what people do, for the purpose of learning and demonstration but when you take it into the realm of a legal tyranny by minorities, you destroy the natural harmonics. Then the system attacks itself and the macrocosm and the microcosm are afflicted with cancers that devour the host. Here we are speaking of a social macrocosm and not the universal macroprosopus; keeping in mind that all of these systems were stolen or borrowed from the predecessors of The Chaldeans and have no originating connections to those who took them only for the purpose of corrupting them to material ends, as the present world gives ample evidence of.
So what's a body to do? That's a personal matter and the major conundrum is maintained by the degree of ones attachment to the creatures and conditions of their personal estate. This is the difference between nightmare and pleasant dreaming; the difference between being trapped and the ability to move on. Moving on it the only option really and moving on is not necessarily a linear process, especially at this time.
There are words like 'loathsome', 'disgusting', 'gross' and 'repellant' but they fall short of the reality of life forms like Neutron Gingrich, Mitt Romney and Rick Santorum. There are hundreds and thousands of them that live in a deodorized, Barbie doll land of antiseptic murder. They kill without conscience. They bring about things like this; The Dog that did Not Bark. They inhabit, own and manipulate the small cells of tormented life, in which millions struggle to survive, like the mythical rose in Spanish Harlem, “growing in the street, right up through the concrete but soft and sweet and dreamin'”. Dreams of the future are the carrot and fear of the future is the stick.
You have no oppositional political parties anymore. You have no vote. There is no news but what is manufactured to fit what is made to happen, to serve the interests of those pounding the citizenry, domestically and abroad. They intend to whittle down your numbers until all that remains is them and a permanent servant class and if you don't think major think tanks, which blueprint government policy, are not 24/7 occupied with this concern then you are a fool and you deserve the rewards of your pathetic self indulgence and indifference.
More power to those brave souls at Occupy Oakland. Kudos to those of you who labor beneath the radar for your fellows. Major props to all the unsung heroes and independent souls who know what's on the line and will not knuckle under to the trolls and terrible abortions of synthetic humanity, born from the litters of diseased rats, in the sewers beneath our contemporary urban concentration camps. Shame on you Mr. Visible, you're talking about class warfare. Am I?
Obama isn't a human being. He's a test tube experiment from Tavistock. That's why the birth certificate thing is a problem. “They Live” is a reality. It's not a matter of 'die on your feet or live on your knees'. It's much worse than 'live on your knees'. That doesn't come close to what's under discussion by your betters.
You're lucky there's more at work than your distracted earbud insulated, cellphone thumbing a ride to nowhere. You're lucky evil does destroy itself because otherwise there would be a whole new meaning to looping and sampling and Charlotte Rampling can't believe it isn't butter either.
There will be a radio show tonight at 7:30 Central Time.
14 April 2014
Visible is moving home April 15th 2014.
At the same time, all his blogs - including this one, will be relocating, too; this means that soon this page will disappear - as will all other pages on Vis' sites. The move (the blogs' move that is, not lord Visible's) is expected to take somewhere between 3 and 8 Earth days so should complete some time between 18 and 25 April 2014.
The blogs will remain accessible however, on their old blogspot.com URLS, and here is where you are going to find them - so please bookmark the following links!
Reflections in a Petri Dish
Please also be aware that although all the existing blogs' content will remain accessible, many image links and other bits and pieces may look a bit tatty for the duration of the move (not that anyone visits Vis blogs for pretty pictures anyway, but it's just polite to let you know)
Thank you for bearing with us during the move!
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Dog Poet Transiting.......
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 14:05
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Dog Poet Transiting.......
May your noses never be brown.
Mushroom memories, toadstool realities, munchkin mentalities, in a soft stool parade and don't drink the brown lemonade. Don't drink the brown lemonade. The cultures sitting on a bench at the Altamont Arcade, checking out the underage with the eyes of an Israeli sniper, fishing for electric eels in the generation of vipers. I got your ADD and your bipolar sanctimony, swinging just for you, swinging just for you and don't drink the brown Monsanto Slurpies, don't drink the brown Monsanto Slurpies.
Trying to cure stupid is like killing for peace but hope never dies as long as wonders never cease. It doesn't matter who you are, what matters is the grease. Do you have the grease? You got that duck oil deodorant to slip you through the crease? Maybe you know Dick Morris or Rahm Emmanuel; get you box seat tickets for a season in Hell. You're getting mighty thirsty. You're getting mighty dry. Don't smoke the brown Naugahyde. Don't smoke the brown Naugahyde.
Newtron Gingrich has near zero support. No one shows up at the office. No one comes to hear him speak. Some junkie wanted to use the toilet but not to take a leak. Newtron figured what the heck and gave a speech outside the door. Later on the janitor swept the junkie off the floor. The autopsy was inconclusive, which junk killed him was elusive. Either way he's dead and glad to be there. Don't shoot the brown heroin. Don't shoot the brown heroin. The quality of the excrement is why they call it 'horse'.
Neutron has an Adelson with money up the ass. It's not hard to make a fortune when you're absolutely crass and your conscience is a bat that sleeps in a cave, where the sun never shines. Of course when you own the press and most of all the rest, what really happened is anybody's guess. Just feed the public guano, till they all sing soprano, like the Vienna Sausage choir boys, if that sort of thing makes you hard, you can look for them in the doorways on Santa Monica boulevard, after dark but don't use the brown after shave. No, don't use the brown aftershave.
Things once familiar have all gone passing strange. If only they were passing and we could call it change. Somebody different wins every primary. This ain't no kind of accident but Stupid cannot see. He's in a Budweiser paradise, with pork rinds on the side. Further down the road he'll be the brown Naugahyde. Ricardo Montalban will do the funeral oration, from Cliff Note Eulogies for Dummies with footnotes and citations. The guests will be sitting on fine Corinthian leather, made from one hundred percent reconstituted pleather. Don't smoke the brown Naugahyde. Don't smoke the brown Naugahyde.
Mitt Romney's coming. I can't even look, sounds like they're killing the spring lambs and here come the hooks, serve them up with Fava beans and a nice Chianti wine. I suggest you use the lotion when he tells you to next time, “or else it gets hose”. Shit for brains ain't hard when it can fly right up your nose. First they tell you what you are, then you take off your clothes. Then you assume the position. For them it's only business, for you it's a religion. Jesus made me do it. Thank god I am saved. Don't let it bother you that it rhymes with enslaved. Yeah Mitt Romney's coming, oh god I'm coming too! I'm coming to the exit doors and then I'm walking through. Don't hump the brown Mormon dead. You could use jumper cables but attach them to your head. The brown Naugahyde is a stationary ride. No one says “Ouch” when they're part of the couch and the coroner has to open up the wall, cause you can't fit through the door. They'll bury you in a piano case at the Museum of Modern art. You'll be the hit of the opening cause even dead men fart. Don't drink the brown Chablis wine. Don't drink the brown Chablis wine.
Rick Sanitorium is a real piece of work. We need a longer more intricate word. I'm not comfortable with 'jerk'. It's not comprehensive. It's inadequate at best. I'd like to watch that man have sex with his corollary kind. Then afterwards he's dinner or the character from “Thinner” or the character from “Freaks”. It's not only geeks ...that bite the heads off chickens. Soon Rick meets Mr. Apocalypse and then the plot thickens and then the game's afoot. He'll be George Michaeling Satan and sucking every toe on the devil's cloven hoof, kneeling in front of the brown Naugahyde. Yeah there kneels our hero by the brown Naugahyde. It might be dark out here, think how dark it is inside. Dreaming about demons on the brown Naugahyde.
Then we got Michelle Bachmann Turner Overdrive. Dumb is just too short a word, like 'jerk' it doesn't fit the bill. You know it gives me a major chub to see her soaking in Liz Bathory's tub. I think she has fantasies about Ehud Barak, whose arms are so short that he can't scratch his ass. That can make a man mean. There's no explanation if you have to ask. Ah Michelle, a cowbell, would look so charming hanging from your neck. I think your sense of romance died from pure neglect. Even Priapus would need Viagra, or a crane to stay erect. You and Katherine Harris are bookends of a kind, where no book will come between you. Ah forget it, never mind.
Let's not forget John Huntsman. Who says money doesn't talk? John slithers like a caterpillar climbing up a stalk on a plastic potted plant. Some do it cause of money. Some do it cause they can't. John's a nasty customer, an Oren Hatchet type. He comes on all avuncular. He comes on smooth and cruel. He knows that basic formula where those of privilege rule. He thinks he's suave and debonair. He thinks he's really cool. I think he's just a tool, a left handed skyhook and meaner than a cornered rat. I think that's where it's at. Wait a minute, he's charitable. He gives so much away but long term calculation is the order of the day. He made his bed with Reagan. He made his bed with Bush. I don't think he makes his bed and I think his daddy's inside his head and he's with the church of Mormon and the clan of Joseph Smith, a Church of Scientology clone whose tablets are a myth. I know the clone is the other way round but I could not resist. Don't smoke the brown Naugahyde. Don't smoke the brown Naugahyde. He's an Area Seventy, high ranking slut, of killers with no conscience. I feel it in my gut.
They're all stalking horses for that other Barak. The fix is in. The votes don't count. The people sleep. The kingdoms burn. The well informed are the last to learn but soon a special worm will turn and dreams of that will turn to this. Madness is just a seashell, beyond the ocean's kiss. Solitary status is a joy for some favored few but solitary psychopaths are cloistered with us too. I don't know where I am tonight, nor am I sure of you. Two face off in shadows like in John Carpenter's “Thing”. Something indefinable passes ...in the sky above. Something indefinable rumbles in the Earth. Something vibrates in the air. Some have hope and some despair and I can't find you anywhere, cause you are closer than I know. Things happen for a reason so, on with the show and don't snort the brown Naugahyde. Don't snort the brown Naugahyde.
Right now there's no joy in Mudville and my quote marks have gone missing. I'm talking on the aethers but is anybody listening? Disappointment rules the night, except for true elation and some of us have certitude for the purpose of demonstration. Life is bound to a wheel of fire, or a permanent vacation. There's but a hair of difference between dreams and wide awake. The disparity is by degrees and gnosis is a snake. I float and trail my hand in the water and brush the cheek, brush the cheek, of the Lady in the Lake. They all lie sleeping in these times, submerged like treasure chests. The lame, the halt, the ghosts of old and even the very best, have no comfort in these silent rooms before the tense approach, quite frankly friend (can I call you friend?) the one who loves us most ...and you should have some gratitude, cause otherwise, you're toast. One should study why things happen and then motive might appear and if you're slow to comprehend, it will kick you in the rear. I have no comfort in that recycled lie ...that the end is near. We've still got ground to cover, yes, each and everyone. You can tag it how you like it but the story isn't done.
We've had our fill of bullshit, sauteed and casseroled. It's not the flat up front that counts but what's hidden in the fold. Poly runs as Pollyander. Diabolus translates as slander. Some transmit and some will pander and so forth as it goes. Like the ancient television line, “only the shadow knows”. It's not correct but it is precise and someone's nuts are in a vise or soon will be there.
Enough for now, we've run our course. If friends are swayed by fabrications; what kind of friends are these? Trust isn't something lightly given or you're hanging in the breeze. The calculated ugly plots are complex things by nature, they tend toward independent ends and swallow their creator. It's best to step away and let the course run through ...until it's clear to see, the simple truth would be enough but... better you than me. Don't smoke the brown Naugahyde. Don't smoke the brown Naugahyde.
And no, I do not know why the right sidebar menu is all screwed up but I'm sure it's my fault (grin).
Visible's Patriots head to the Super Bowl in a rematch of a few years past; should prove interesting.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 23:10
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
A little something different today, for all those speculating in the hinterlands and inner lands where speculation is the general order of the day. Why are things the way they are and where did all these hideous people come from? Where did these bankrupt leaders; vicious reavers, financial psychopaths, The Satanic Chosen, the indifferent and preening self adulatory come from and why are they here? That's a good question. There's a reason for everything, even if we don't know what it is at the time.
During the period when I met The Man on the Beach, I remember being in a small roadside tavern in Big Sur. I was taking a leak and I happened to look over to the wall on my left where there was some amount of graffiti and it was at that point when this young lad with his long hair noticed the pithy comment, “Hippies are living proof that niggers fuck dogs”. Big Sur was the home of Esalen and any number of various get togethers and hideaways for people out on the edge of the new frontiers of consciousness. It was also a hotbed for very right wing types who owned a lot of the land; what land could be owned. You didn't want to go camping just anywhere in that area. I had heard the tales about baseball bats studded with nails and so forth. I never thought about it much. It was only later that I found out about all the serial killers prowling Route 1; the organized ones were creating their tableaus in the ice plant configurations at the entrance and exit points of the freeways running in and out of LA and then there were the San Bernadino mountain aficionados who preferred the forests.
There are Orange County-like enclaves all over that failed experiment called America. Some of them are called Palm Beach County and some of them are called Westchester County and all of them contain those peoples and personalities generic to the routines performed there. They need the world to work and act a certain way, according to that timeless formula of, “Me first, you later, maybe”. They don't think of themselves as a bad sort. They give money to their various charities that support what is euphemistically called The Arts and they've got the hospitals, where they are basically investing in a future stay and better treatment for themselves and whoever showed up in their familial mix. They give generously to Cancer because cancer is a gift that keeps giving, in terms of stock portfolios and direct mass payments, if you're a doctor, but otherwise serve to advance an enormous industry of related endeavors like pharmaceuticals, medical supplies and hospice chains. Cancer is big business and no one making money off of it wants it to go away.
War is even bigger money maker and no one making money off of it wants it to go away. Oil is even bigger money and no one killing and displacing millions to get it or suppressing every other technology (unless they control it) wants it to go away. But where did these people come from?
Where did this terrible epidemic of bad leaders in every area of endeavor come from and why are so many of them here at this particular time?
It's reincarnation people. Everyone you see has chosen to be here and is compelled to act as they do according to the Karma of their being for purposes of demonstration to others AND to themselves and for the purpose of judgment on the manifest plane. The majority of people do not understand the dynamics of human birth in the manifest. Certain things can only be accomplished in a physical body. That is both the good news and the bad news; given the suffering that attends our presence on this plane. Because appearances play such a big part in the conditions of our residency, our state of ease or disease is dependent on the degree to which we are controlled by appearances. Appearances are the primary lie because they are a temporary and changing expression of something that is essentially different than what is being presented. This is how people become immersed in deception. This is because appearances are always with us and it's just easier for the human mind to accept appearances as reality. After all, everyone else does. The pressure to go along with whatever everyone else believes is happening is very great.
When we are children we are all the victims of telepathic invasion from our parents and also from whatever structures we are exposed to for the purpose of education/indoctrination. The infrastructure and those who manipulate it, for control for the purpose of gain, insists that we proceed on rails and in slots for the greater good, which is a euphemism for the greater good of the few. Both the social and governmental constructs as well as the religious angle are in place for the purpose of dominating our attention so that we will be good little robots from the cradle to the grave. The only system that ever really works out to the advantage of the ordinary resident is the small community/village dynamic which allows for an operating input by the informed citizen. This is what they perverted in order to sell us the lie of demoncracy; “it takes a village” and then of course, you often wind up burning the village in order to save it.
The county structures I mentioned earlier; the enclaves of the privileged and degrees of privileged are regimented environments of entrenched stupidity, which supports the horrors of a material age. They give fealty to a lie of protected comforts based on a superiority of status, which accords the finer opportunities of education that lead to the connections that contribute to the rise in position, in respect of the marketplace and the insular and closed cultures of those whose wheels have been greased so that they might enjoy a higher standard of living because, well... because they're just better than we are; whoever 'we' may happen to be at the moment.
These large demographics of associating professionals, insane Christians and sundry types make it possible for a Bush or an Obama to be shoehorned into higher office so that they can carry out the policies of bankers and others who see no act of torment and aggression to be too egregious to perform. Basically they don't give a shit who gets hurt. They see columns of numbers on a page. They are actuarial junkies who worship nothing but the bottom line. They are as they are because over a long term of coming and going that is where they wound up. This cycle of shit goes on across the space of an age and not much interrupts it as quid pro quo and status quo engage in their extended mutual frottage.
However, the time comes, as it always does when judgment makes its appearance and that is why there are so many people here. They've been brought here to see the value of what they have been up to. They are here because what goes around eventually comes around and here it is in your face. What are you up to at the moment? What is the direction of your thought? That is the determinant of your placement in the order of things. That is also good news and bad news. The thing is that it doesn't appear as bad new to those in their gated communities and places of privilege in positions of power and influence. They're certain that they will be okay because they've got every right to be there. They're the landlords of eminent domain.
Yeah, it's all fun city until it turns into nightmare alley. It's hard to run with the weight of wealth and even harder to hide your face when you've been all over the TV for... the purpose of demonstration.
There are personal veils and there are the larger shared veils of communities and classes. In a time of material preeminence, these veils are powerful in their magnetic force as it applies to the tenets of belief. People join together is a common acceptance of what is real. That's not even generally real, that's just what some amount of people decided was going to be because it most comprehensively accommodated their appetites and desires. This is the time of summing up. That means this is the time of judgment. There's time left to change utterly but the veils... ah the veils; through a scarf darkly.
This may seem a meandering collage of tenuously related subject matters. It's anything but. However, I will leave you with your thoughts on the matter and depart for the necessary effort upon my own veils, such as they may be.
There will be a radio show tonight but PLEASE NOTE that I will be on at feet2thefire radio at 9:00 Central and not the usual 7:30 because it will be a live interview with James that will last for an hour. As usual, it will be available for download the following day. That would be tomorrow in case there is any confusion about it (8/*grin).
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 19:10
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Sometimes I'm embarrassed to have to consider myself a member of the human race. It could be due to the fact that some unfortunate number of us are not members of the human race but rather some sort of alien hybrid that bears as much resemblance to a human being as refrigerator mold does to tree moss.
Unless you are dumber than a retarded rock, you know by now, that whatever viral life form is occupying the land of what was formerly Palestine and is now called Israel, is the most pernicious enemy of human freedom on the planet. They want to pass a law now that makes it illegal to compare Israelis to Nazis. I actually have no problem with that because that is an inaccurate comparison. They are actually much worse than the Nazis, as well as having been the banks behind them in the first place.
There is absolutely no doubt at this time that Israel committed the 9/11 attacks. There is absolutely no doubt that they were the motive force behind Homeland Security and the TSA. One need only look at Micheal Chertoff and Joe Lieberman and a host of other criminal types from the same bloodline in the Departments of Defense and State and every critical area of government. They own and infest the media, which influences the minds of the populace, to believe in vicious lies that lead to the deaths of millions around the globe. They are the architects of Biblical perversions that have resulted in tens of millions of fundamentalist, evangelical Christians believing that their savior was a Jew and that the people who put him to death are the shining spotlights in the Kingdom of God. This results in these potato heads sending their children off to be canon fodder in wars designed by Zionist, Jewish bankers for profit and stolen landscape. There is no doubt that this and much more is true and if you don't believe it, you are either employed by them or deserve what you are getting.
They are near exclusively sitting on the boards of directors of every powerful, alternative sexual organization, which they are using, in a premeditated fashion, to destroy western culture. They are the sole motive force behind taking Christ out of Christmas and laugh at you when all trace of Christian presence is removed from The White House, while a menorah as big as an amusement park ride is raised up across the street from it. They are the sole motive force behind political correctness, which is one of the most singularly evil philosophies in the world.
They were the sole driving force behind the Russian revolution and all of the horrors that attended it. They comprised quite a number of The Young Turks during the Armenian holocaust. The horrors caused by this small band of replicating psychopathic monsters is beyond measure, across the tortured centuries of all our dark and dreadful history, stretching out of memory. You may not like it. You may not want to hear it. You may be just one more chickenshit slave in the cage of your own cowardice but it's all true. Deny it as you like. It's all true and worse.
They were the shipowners who brought the black people in chains across the sea. They were the slumlords in their neighborhoods, once they were allowed to have neighborhoods. Israel is one of the main centers of the contemporary sex slave trade.. I'm not your research assistant. Look it all up. Look it up here. Go ahead, scroll down and spend the next few days reading about these lovely specimens walking upright among you like rabid Komodo dragons. You may not want to hear it. You may not like it but it's true. Yeah, the truth is an unfortunate thing. The truth is a pain in the ass. The truth is uncomfortable and downright unpleasant. The truth is not welcome in the house. The truth can sleep under the bridge abutment. The truth can take a hike. Fuck the truth. I don't want no part of the truth. The truth is dangerous. The truth can get me in trouble. The truth can mess up my life. The truth can get in the way of my appetites and desires because I live for the commands of my stomach and my dick. Crucify the truth! Crucify the truth! Such is the cry of outrage and anger from those whom the truth convicts. Such is the nature of those who live and profit from misery and lies.
I don't want to say these things. I don't want to get up out of my warm bed and apply myself to the kind of thing that has never granted a warm bed or a welcome hearth. I don't want to do it but I have no choice. I will not look back on my life and say in the shamed confinement of my imprisoned heart that I was a coward and a traitor to every good and decent quality that I did not have the courage to seek after and possess. I will not turn my eyes away from the terror, the harm, the suffering and abuse of my fellows at the hands of conscienceless beasts. They are not human, whatever else they may be. They are not human and I will call what I see. They do not rule over me.
Yeah, what about it? Prove me wrong. Defy the clear imprint of their cloven hooves upon the pages of history. Show me where all of this is not true. I hunger for it not to be. Shall it go on and on forever? Shall it never end? So long as the much, much vaster numbers of humanity submit, it will continue. On that you may depend. What is it that spellbinds the minds of so many of you? What is this force that makes you doubt what is right before your eyes? What is this power that can hypnotize? It is a form of blood magic. It is the exercising of certain rites. It includes not only these viral specimens of a certain race but their associates in crime. They are engaged in magic. All wars are magical wars.
There are many kinds of magic. There is the magic of entertainment that captivates the mind and imagination. There is the magic of media that deceives and compromises reason and the intellect. There is the magic of demagogues and charlatans who mesmerize the crowd. There is the magic of arcane ritual that summons demons from their realm. There is the magic of symbols and numbers and names. These things have come out of ancient lands and are practiced today. However... however... a new magic is on the way. This is why I do not fear them and neither should you. Their magic would have harmed me already but there are stronger magics besides what they possess and we shall see that put to the test. These are those times. These are those times.
This is a time of awakening. You may not wish that it were so. This is a time beyond your resistance, you had better get with the flow. Their time has come as it always does. Recorded memory does not contain the last engagement or the one before. Here in this world of trial and error, we have been here before.
I understand that you don't want to hear this. I sympathize with you. All I ask is that you carefully and clinically disprove it. Prove me wrong. I welcome it. Prove me wrong. Make my day. Show me that it is not so; that they do not command your governments. Show me that your leaders do not bow before them when they are the smallest numbers here. Show me that AIPAC has little power. Show me that they do not control what you see and hear. Show me that the names in charge on the corporate documents are not the actual names of the owners and administrators. Show me. SHOW ME!!! I command you, show me!
Show me that they did not cause these last wars. Show me that they do not comprise the neo cons. Show me that they do not murder the Palestinians for sport. Show me that they do not use children for target practice. Show me! Show me that they do not run the international organ harvesting racket simply because their own organs reject the corruptions of the bodies that contain them. There is a mystery here which you are welcome to explore. Show me that they do not presently call for the destruction of Iran. Show me that they were not behind the destruction of Libya. Show me that they are not making relentless war on the Muslims AND Christians. Show me this is not true. Is the evidence not right in front of you? Show me!!!
I don't want to have to tell you these things but this is my world too. I won't be staying long but I will not be silent on the way. You must collectively wake up to what is happening to you, or far worse is around the corner and on the way. You need to get a clue but... in the meantime. Please disprove what I have said. Please disprove what you have read. Please present the overwhelming argument... to the contrary. Please refute case by case. Please use what history and direct present evidence provide and show me how it is otherwise. I'm waiting to hear from you.
The Terrible Spectre of the Dreadful Few
This Sunday's radio show is available for download.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 18:15
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Where have we been; fast asleep in the belly of the beast, drunk on the digestive juices of Wall Street monsters, Israeli, vampire siphon machines; suck you up like a McDonald's milkshake baby. If you can't handle the stink, stay out of the cistern. The banker bully boys came here from Clockwork Orange, multitasking with motorcycle boots and attendant orgasms. These are the real cartels; the insatiable military and the corporate hounds, the government Sandusky kids and the bloodstained clowns from the Rothschild breakfast table, who keep making the rounds while confirming the kill. You may not feel it but your children will. You may not feel it but your children will.
All over the planet the migration has begun, as the elementals go into action and climb out of their sleeping beds. Nature is throwing off her chains and seething with rage at a handful of punks in three piece suits and the vast army of stupid and indifferent that made their job easy; that sat on the sidelines or carried the freight and abused friends and family with smoldering hate; yeah, that's just Love suppressed. Thank god for allopathic, symptomatic compounds that make it possible to conceal what we are really feeling, to hide it under fronts of resentment and futile anger at those closest to us, while our cowardice and appetites put paid to the license granted to our oppressors.
Indifference to sunlight does not mute or alter its disinfectant quality. It's going to slip in to your dark, migraine evasive, bedrooms and find you anyway. Ask yourself why your head hurts in the first place. If you don't turn your attention to the source of what is assaulting you, it has nowhere to go except to turn back upon yourself or those closest to you. If you can't control your own mind, you can't control your behavior. That makes you an uninformed servant of your own distress, at the hands of those who get high being employed at it.
If you don't care who leads you then you probably don't care where you wind up, or simply have lost the capacity to add two and two, which, according to natural law, results in the arrival of a two by four, just to let you know that the cosmos can still count. The hand of the cosmos is Nature in action and if you don't pay attention she'll put you in traction. It's not personal, it's the business of the system that orders the degree of presence and performance that determines the itinerary. “Good evening, I'll be your elevator operator; going down, or would you prefer to see a menu”? You can think of your life as a Chinese restaurant; no substitutions. I know you were all about the concept of infinite choice. That's how you got all that technology, gadgets and things that keep your mind off the approaching transition. It's a old story. It's happened before. Things just got out of hand and then were no more.
The news isn't good. Good news doesn't sell. What did you expect besides resident Hell? On Wal-mart, on Blackheart, Monsanto and Blitzen, on Vatican, Dupont and Kentucky Fried Chicken, the season is here, the spirit is missing. Meanwhile... meanwhile, it's all about where it's okay to put your dick. It's all about celebrating the things that make you sick. It's all about control and regimentation. It's all reaction and the right to maim and kill. You may not feel it but your children will.
How did it get like this? How did life become such a drag? Who shot up the hamster with amphetamine? Who poisoned the well? Who did it in Palestine? Who's doing it now? Who got together with the worst of us to come down on our heads? Who put creed against creed and color against color? Who's making the money from the carnage and ruin? Who's selling you fear about people you don't even know? Who did what got blamed on the people we bombed? Who put a boogeyman under your bed? Who made crime so attractive and armed the cartels? Who made ordinary folk into dysfunctional trolls? Who made the cops mean? Who corrupted the priests? Who made one big cluster-fuck nightmare from Round-Up and Ready Whip? Who taught you false history? Who created the river of darkness that runs under the ship of state? Who created god from a toilet and taught you to worship it? Flush once for a wake-up and twice for a hair from the bad dog that bit you and you're almost there. You're almost there. You probably don't feel it but your children don't care.
Nothing is what it seems. The reality of the misidentified is actually an expression of two interfacing spirals that have created a temporary 'no man's land' between them. Think of an enduring period of false dawn or transformative dusk, a place where you can see shapes in movement but cannot accurately or even generically identify them. This is a time of strange magnetisms, accompanied by the usual labels, no longer being meaningful. In former times, people and things behaved according to the definitions they operated under. A conservative was usually a conservative and a liberal a liberal. This is no longer the case. As for the magnetisms, new attractive forces are presenting themselves and people are behaving under compulsions contrary to their basic nature; being overwhelmed by forces and conditions whose power comes about due to one's sense of self having deteriorated to the point that they no longer know who they are.
Voluntary and cooperative change assure a ready identification in transition. Forced and uncooperative change results in a partial or total destruction of the cognitive self in terms of their capacity to recognize the states into which they are being transported. Imagine Rick Santorum on acid in an Indian temple; not a bad thing actually, provided he never goes back to being who he was and I don't even care if he can remember but... I digress.
People are all focused on external events and are missing the activation of the resonance of an entirely new atmosphere of being. People are paranoid about what's coming and unaware of who it is that it might happen to. People are finding that the need of their appetites increase, in advance of the arrival of a time in which they can no longer satisfy them. This accounts for one of the spirals. “Your job, should you choose to accept it”, is to figure out what's going on in the other spiral. “Remember, if you or any of your team are captured, we will disavow any knowledge of” your not having cared enough to become invisible to the suck holes, seeking to swallow you up in an entropic slumber; not everyone gets to be, or wants to be-come a fly trapped in amber but we do have a larger list of candidates than in previous years.
The whole thing is about fear and uncertainty. It paralyzes you. It turns you into a deer in the headlights. You've made the men in the shadows powerful because your fear is the Viagra that inspires their abuse. You won't collect and congregate with your fellows, so they will pick you off one by one and put you in jumpsuits with single digit numbers on them. You seem incapable of stepping away from the levers and buttons of your own destruction. The last thing you will see is your fingerprint holographically shimmering over the words, “Fuck me, I'm a fool” on the press panel you thought was going to open the door to some brothel in your head. Everyone gets challenged about whether they care about what happens to the people around them. It's set up that way.
Everyone is worried what the devil's going to think. . You don't want to piss him off and make him angry. The result of that is even worse than you think. Meanwhile you want to stay away from that crazy guy who's talking to himself. Just because you've been deaf for the last twenty years you think he's all alone. Just like it is in the Six Kinds of Shit Amusement Park of usual life, it's not what you know, it's who you know and true light casts no shadows nor entertains them at his house. . You want to be afraid of someone who hates you? You think your fear is some kind of a way out? Is that how it worked out on the playground? Did it get you into Yale? Sure some are born to serve the darkness and they got certain schools for that but... if you're not 'chosen' for it they will sniff you out. One needs to understand how the darkness operates in order to command what lives in the deep. Were you put here to be a dung beetle just so you could climb to the top of the heap? You have to know what you actually are. Good or evil is not the point. Self identification is the point.
All these people going the wrong way have created a tailwind and a slipstream. Are you a Volkswagen behind a double lorry? Are you a high born creation going in reverse? First you must overcome fear. Then you have to walk in the empty lands. Then you have to make a connection or you will die by your own hand. It's all suicide after all. It's okay to be the bad guy if that IS what you ARE but if you're not Old Scratch can smell you and he'll tell his people what's going on. That's what you get for trying to fit in when you could be long gone. Better tend to that itch and use it like a generator on a bicycle at night. If you're not in movement you can use it to turn on the lights in your head.
Yes, there's been point and motive all through this poor address. . You can't say these things directly, it's peripheral at best. You can accommodate your injury till you can't even feel a thing. This is how it gets for people who hurt others once their sensitivity is dead. The sins of the initiator send their children into time and they all show up together further down the line.
You Might not Feel it but Your Children Will
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 02:49