Monday, September 08, 2014

Fee Fi Fo Fum More Dead Lizards and then Some

Last night's radio show is up now and so is the broadcast with Robert Phoenix.



Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

♫“Joan Rivers... whiter than the Nile, I'll be passing you in style some day. You've come to a dark twisted end, my turkey vulture friend. Joan Rivers and mehhhhhhhhhhh.”♫

Whether it was selling cheap paste jewelry on QVC channel or chanting “Success at any cost! Success at any cost!” She was inflexibly true to her compulsions. She sold a lost of paste and she did get success regardless of the cost. “Can we talk?” Uh... no we can't Joan. See... there is that incredibly ironic thing about the vocal chords. What did Mr. Apocalypse say? “I'm going to be really ingenious, visible and you know just how ingenious that can be. Well... no you don't but never mind.

Next up... Henry Kissinger and David Rockefeller, joined at the hip ever since David became Henry's patron or was that poltroon? I forget. Let's not forget George (I killed Kennedy) Bush and Little Georgie Sorrows. Ah... the evil that men do. I'll tell you what, it doesn't smell like Mennen Skin Bracer. Shimon Peres is on the list too. There is quite a laundry list of old men ...and women, like Madeleine Albright and Barbara Bush who are also on that list. Mr Apocalypse has got a little list and there's none of them be missed. Yes, preciousssssssssssssssssssss.

Oh... let's not overlook Charles Krauthammer and all the other Zio-cons. He's not so old just yet but when it comes to evil, he's ancient. These and a large number of others all came here at this time for a single purpose and that was to cause as much harm as they possibly could. This they have done. Now the ball is in the court of Mr. Apocalypse.

I drink the Ibogaine cocktail and sit very still with the inner eye turned inward. After a time I find myself perched on a shelf of lava rock, looking down into the pit which, from my perspective is kind of like sitting on one of the upper floors of the Murtaugh Building after the front of it got blown off. I see a huge dirigible like construction floating on the hot foul air of the pit. I bring my binoculars to my eyes and I see Ashtaroth walking along the River Styx with a nylon cord in his hand. He's flying that dirigible like a kite. I turn the lenses of the binoculars to the dirigible and I see it is the skin of Ariel Sharon, pumped full of helium. His mouth is open in an Edvard Munch, Silent Scream sort of a way. I can see his eyes are open and pregnant with emotions I would rather not describe at this juncture. Hey! Adults come here to read these posts. I don't want to see them weeping in the arms of their children once they read something like that.

'I'm in a fog' of arrogant mendacity Rasmussen's soul is walking around down below. The rest of him may be back on Planet Earth but his soul is here in the valley of the shadow of the living dead. I'm guessing physicists have also proven that everything is consciousness at one stage of awareness or another. That means when you die and your animate self disappears from here, it emerges elsewhere in a state of awareness consonant with what has been conferred upon it in respect of the sum total of the footsteps added in with everything they ever thought, said and did. Remember, 'thoughts are things'. What? You never heard of a thoughtform? That is the template, the blueprint for a manifest object after it has moved through the Formative Plane and become materialized.

Deep inside the prison of my karmically bound self, my solar body pounds upon the walls of karmic restriction. Lemmie outta here! All around me I see many clocks on the walls of my cell. Beneath each of them is a small rectangular plaque that announces the date and hour when a particular trait or conditions is scheduled to leave my life. I live in a world of over anticipated timers, with the same kind of ever heightening anxiety that a turkey in the oven might feel but... a turkey doesn't really feel anything in that situation do they and I am digressing all over the map at the moment. Thank god someone bastes me on occasion. What did that saint say when the Romans were grilling him over a fire? “Turn me over please, I think I'm done on this side.” Hopefully we don't get to that.

The last six thousands years have been a litany of horror. Hundreds of millions of people have died for the dark and dreadful dreams of bankers and money changers. The wheel of cosmic time has turned. The Aquarian Age is on site. Surely we are at the far end of the cusp period at this moment. That means the force of sustenance has been withdrawn from all those institutions, traditions and infrastructure that are not intended to make the transition into this new age. At the same time, those emergent ideas and conditions that Aquarius reflects are growing by the day. Much of these remain unseen at the moment. They are forming up under the radar of day to day appearances. A time will come when these technologies and trends of thought will become ubiquitous. The dark side has been operational at full tilt to desecrate human thought and the environment to every possible extreme. Have world conditions passed beyond the point of repair and redemption? We shall see. I close my eyes and see that hundreds of miles of plastic and other trash, floating in the Pacific.

Fe Fi Fo Fum... I smell the cold sweat and fear of Kissinger, Rockefeller and then some. Step back my friends and look at the spectacle of appearances as they present themselves on this day. Watch Obama babbling on with lie after lie. From behind him one can see the arm up his ass all the way to the shoulder. The hand is making his lips move. There is no shame anywhere; in Congress, in the Judiciary, in the Administrative wing. Across the waters, Christine Lagarde, Catherine Ashton, David Cameron, Ed Miliband, Satanists all, are pressing their agendas, while exposures of their crimes continue alongside their doomed efforts. These are all friends of Jimmy Saville. Just imagine the level of corruption in The House of Lords. You know what you know but what is it that you do not know, shudder... a great deal. Tony Blair gets the GQ Philanthropists Award. What has GQ got to do with philanthropy? Aren't they in the business of inseams and false fronts, not to mention rolled socks in the underwear?

Here's what Google has to say about synonyms for corruption. If you take that term and transfer it into the building trade, it might mean your house is riddled with termites. You can stand outside the house and look at it and at first glance you see none of the devastation that has taken place at the woods interior. Maybe on closer inspection you might see mounds of particles on the ground that indicate something has been ground to powder. This is a perfect metaphor for the state of the times. The house looks fine but... it's not. It can crumble at any moment and this has happened any number of time; a seemingly sound house, seen from the street, falls apart. It's all about inner rot and that is the case with the interior being of all of the names mentioned here today. They represent systems that are totally corrupt and it stands to reason that, as representatives of this system, they are also thoroughly corrupt. They seem okay on the outside, if you don't look to closely at what they've been up to but... only the purpose of demonstration is holding them together at this point.

And the media? The Zio-Satanic media populated now by nothing but whores... “You walk into the room with your pen in your hand. You see somebody naked and you say, 'who is that man?' You try so hard but you just don't understand, what it is you'll say when you get home and... you know something's happening but you don't know what it is; do you, Mr. Jones?” Obviously everything is held in place by a mysterious force because... otherwise, people in all walks of life, who have seen first hand what awful and unjust things are taking place, would be shouting from the rooftops about it but... they are constrained. They are restrained. The reporters go on being reporters except they no longer observe and report. They simply repeat what they are told to say. Chomsky goes on pontificating, occasionally looking down at his clay feet cooking in the kiln. Rachel Madow keeps talking out of the side of her mouth. Abby Martin goes on felating the people she really works for and no one seems to remember what she said about Russia. The twin Zio-crones from Kalifornia squeal about fabricated nonsense and no one seems to mind. Look to the left and right, look ahead and behind. Look down and look up. Do you see a politician anywhere whose conscience just took a lightning bolt and are now singing like a canary? Look into the media, entertainment... where is that necessary cabal of the righteous? We get Cruz and Bardem and not much else. We got Miley Cyrus twerking with her brow all scrunched up as she contemplates The Riddle of the Sphincter.

Truly... it is all under control and it looks to me like people can't step out of character. They're locked in for the purpose of demonstration. It defies any logical computation of 'the odds'. The odds say that a reasonable portion of people from all walks of life, at this point... at this point, should be coming forth and declaring. Their humanity demands it but... nada. It's silent all round. It's quiet... too quiet (grin).

To paraphrase an ancient text; “Let those who are however they are go on being however they are and let those who are otherwise be otherwise. Those without justice, let them go on being unjust and those who are filthy, let them continue.” It's clear that some all containing force has got the whole thing choreographed and scripted for reason known only to that force about which we know less than nothing to begin with. You can get an idea of something that, in it's totality is incomprehensible and indefinable by watching how it operates. You can get a clue as to what is appreciated and not appreciated by how the observations of everything impact upon you because you house that mysterious force from a personalized perspective and it so happens that most of us share a common view on what is right and what is wrong. That we may not always adhere to it in practice is the result of fear and bad influences but... that takes nothing away from what we instinctively know at the heart of our being. All of us house this force or we wouldn't even be animate. You're listening to the world outside you or you are listening in an interior manner. You're guided by one thing or you are driven by another. That is just how it is.

In the end, reason triumphs over passion but... the greatest impact of enduring reason always manifests itself through a vehicle of great passion. It appears we are all locked in at the moment. I suspect a time, fast in approach where the restraints are suddenly lifted at the same time that we are made capable of seeing what really is. The determining feature of this event is whether you continue to see from that point or whether you consciously close your eyes. We'll see... or not.


End Transmission.......

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