Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Out on the High Mesa with the Tattered Ghosts of the Night.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there and just because you can doesn't mean it is.

Riding out here on the high mesa, at the outer most margins of the culture, you can see a great many strange things. Oh... they're not so strange, if you're up close and personalizing. Distance, so I've heard, has the capacity to grant perspective, unless you are myopic, hypnotized or blind. OF course there are all kinds of distances; distances from others, distances from yourself, distances from understanding and comprehension, distances from what is real and what is not, distances from uniformity and distances from normality and of course, all the distances that are in between all the demarcations in every distance so far mentioned. Avast! Thar she blows!

So it was that I went by one of those mass alternative media sites where I used to get listed before I became so chronically subjective and where I had not gone in some months (because it was always the same news at all of these sites, the same paranoid articles and wild speculations about the possible massive rises in the price of gold and silver and... rainbow poontang), only to find, only to find that this particular webmaster is pushing Donald Trump. Now... I've seen bizarre behavior of this sort from that corner before, just as I have seen others bemoaning 7 foot shape changing lizards, or propounding expertise about one subject or another where no such expertise resides, simply a lot of diverse information about something they're not qualified to pass judgment on ...but Trump? How jejune can one be, while having had such decades long exposure to the sort of duplicity that comes and goes around here and find themselves able to back the haarmeister Trump?

Out here on the mesa, where the only sounds are the sounds of the precipitating drip of agonizingly stretched and tormented time; the cries of a hoot owl and the lonesome wail of the coyote, you see a lot of things. Up close, much of this looks normal due to your own normality having been transformed into perversity by proximity. Far away, out here, looking into the writhing cauldron of flaming bodies, blindly groping one another in pursuit of the peace that only comes through a detachment from the same, understanding manifests as if one were watching Pumpkinhead, moonwalking in a silver jumpsuit, across the dance floor of the disco at the end of the galaxy. Up close it looks like John Travolta.

Donald Trump? The painfully obvious stalking horse, Donald Trump, being defended and promoted at one of our leading alternative news linking sites?

We're all on borrowed time, just as we all come and go under the steam of borrowed power. Everything we know is borrowed in the form of temporary knowledge that has no stasis because it is always shifting under the force of experience and other influences that are all some form of experience in any case. We change whether we like it or not. We change in good ways and bad ways, depending on what we learn and do not learn and how we adapt ourselves to it, according to our generally fluid value system. For some, the only value system they possess is derived from the wheelhouse of self interest. That's to be expected in a time when material interest is the paramount dynamic of the times. Not everyone is like this, however it may seem to be, depending on where you may be located. Still, if all the world were to prove hollow and faithless, this is far less important than if you are. As long as even one light remains in this world, utter darkness is held at bay.

There is a cold keening wind sweeping the mesa, insubstantial ghosts, move like tattered flags across the high wide and lonesome. As insubstantial as the ghosts may seem, they can suddenly materialize fists of power out of nowhere. They can strike you even if you cannot see them. They can do nothing they are not permitted to do, which means they are some part of the ineffable's plan. The moving and stationary agents of the light and shadow and all the numberless chiaroscuro animated broomsticks, are all players and the quality and absence of their light is the quality of their being. Some of them are the forever members of specific kingdoms. It is suggested that if anyone knew the true value of their humanity they would never want to be an angel, yet... one can crossover. It can be done.

One's face remains basically the same from life to life but it can be changed. It's just not easy and why? Simultaneously there will come a moment when every being of every stripe is set apart in bas relief, to be distinguished as just what they are, regardless of the fact that it is always going on somewhere all the time. The world ends for any number of people every day yet we collectively fear the end of the world. We fear what we have no need to fear and are powerless to control, while disregarding things of singular importance that we can affect. Our ability to do that... or anything... comes from borrowed power and no power can be exercised without permission. Every particle of energy has a secret code written into it like DNA and every permutation of power comes out of the essential reservoir of power undefined. Every particle of matter and every form taken is no more than a temporary adaptation of essential matter. Perhaps you know this. what are you going to do about it?

The universal vibrating flame alphabet is written into the integrity of every shape and every shape is defined and expressed by it. In this world there are rules and laws for every science and vocation. These are pedestrian pursuits. There are higher sciences and vocations. In the pedestrian realm there are schools of learning. In the higher callings there are long corridors that must be walked, even if you believe you are in wide open spaces. Even if you are on the high mesa, you are not really there.

The sad gulls cry over the shore break. The pathos is an expression of a timeless theme of longing and loss. From the moment we are born we are dying, as is everyone passing by and they are passing by, over the burning sidewalks in the cities of desire and want, over the trackless sands of the high mesa, in the labyrinthine, underground kingdoms of civilizations unknown to us, they are passing like the cries of the gulls from sound into silence and everything accomplished here that is not concerned with the presence of the ineffable is meaningless and soon to be as forgotten, as everything else that has ever been. Great souls have walked this Earth many a time. Their accomplishments were easily on a par with anything this brief chapter of recorded history has ever seen, yet, not only are their names and all their works forgotten but also the entire age in which they labored is forgotten too, as if it never were. Yes, these and many another curiosity are remembered somewhere by someone but not by anyone here on the boulevards of vanity and hunger.

All those eternal truths, hidden in children's fables. All those analogies and allegories. The countless sands of deserts and seas, the countless stars in the never ending skies. The unimaginable reach of the divine, who contains it all and expresses it all, who spirals out the entirety of creation and then gathers it all together through every segment of the measured interplay of the measureless acting out... the living proof of the eternity of desire.

How does one compare anything personal against this?

The birth of an age is like the pain of childbirth. It is attended by all of the apprehensions of the same. For some long time since near the beginning of the last century, the gestation period has been in effect. The water has now broken and labor has been induced by the cosmic midwife. The vehicle of delivery cries out in anguish. She writhes in all directions but the process is what it is; nothing swift or sudden about it. Because this is a birth taking place in the hearts and minds of everyone here, the effect is everywhere to be seen, except where it isn't, except where it is ignored or resisted, or where calculating agents of darkness also go through labor in the attempt to make the birth stillborn. The truth is that it hurts and the pain is all she can think about but then... the birth is achieved and it is all relief and joy and a forgetting of all that was so overwhelming only a short time before. Any time now. Anytime, there will be a change in the song of the wind as it wails across the high mesa. It will barrel its way through the high desert and down toward the winking lights of the town of Iniquity, named after the pole dancing whore (It's not what it seems). Our lady of Perpetual Undulation.

This is your humble herald, musing in the late night solitude of one more passing day.

End Transmission.......

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The eponymous Les Visible Music Album♫ Peace ♫
'Peace' is track no. 4 of 10 on Visible's eponymous 'Les Visible' Music Album
Lyrics (pops up)

The eponymous Les Visible Music Album

Visible's Self-Improvement Guide,
Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World

- 'An Exploration Toward the Ineffable'

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Sunday, July 26, 2015

Out of the Well of the Subjective and into a Cleansing Light.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Shakin it here Boss.

Finally, a functioning computer and then late into the evening it took, inexplicably, a long time to get word processing software. Technology for a radio broadcast is still not in place so there will be none for one last week, my apologies for that.

As a result of posting a small mention of my recent difficulties, people have been writing in en masse to tell me about similar difficulties experienced by them or those in their circle. It has been illuminating to read these reports. What a fine degree of resonance we have here. I am as moved by the suffering of those among us as I am powerless to do anything about itn except through the agency of prayer. What i have noticed in my life is that any idea of personal power that I possess is more and more being reduced to an utter dependence on the ineffable. I am being progressing ground to dust but I hope it is more like grapes crushed under the force of invisible feet, to make a half decent wine.

I would discuss more specifically what happened to me but there is this very small collection of a handful of malcontents who bear me an astonishing amount of ill will. It cannot be the result of my having been brusk or rude with them at some point. This would be extreme overkill; not that there are not people capable of this and I think what really disturbs them is that all of their efforts to discredit me have failed and they simply cannot understand why I have not been censured, silenced or just gone by now. I have counseled them to be patient but they are apparently incapable of that.

I would probably have ceased being as candid as I have been, for such a length of time, if I had shown more curiosity about what these people were saying about me. I have thought that those who are overly concerned about what others say about them have certain problems which I would prefer not to possess. In the last couple of months, a correspondent whose company I enjoy, albeit virtually, went out of his way to share certain details with me. I was fairly surprised. I have never understood why people would intentionally spread lies when the truth is available to them and then there are those who claim to have an amazing awareness of what I do each day and what has and has not happened to me, even though they have never met me or ever been around me. There are people insisting that I did not break my hip last year and that I fabricated the event in order to milk donations from my readers.

When I left the hospital they gave me a DVD of the operation, which I found not long ago. I tried to post it to youtube but particular software is needed to open it. At least this is what they told me at the computer place where I went to have it rendered. I'm guessing someone is smart enough to figure this out and I will gladly send it to such a one, once properly vetted. Irrespective of this, I have documents and now I will arrange to have them copied on to a thumb drive and will post these. I shouldn't have to do this, as I was visited in both places where I was hospitalized and where i rehabilitated and how someone could manage to support themselves on donations, acquired under false pretenses is beyond me. Wouldn't you have to do that over and over again? Meanwhile I have never asked for donations. There are a couple of boxes at my sites if anyone wants to but beyond that I personally have never gone. I know that others have made the occasional request for me but I have no control over that and nothing to do with it.

I know that the majority of those who come here know that i am pretty much as I seem to be and that I have certain flaws like any man and that i work on them all the time. Sometimes we are not permitted to be set free of these things. Perhaps it is to keep us human. Anyway, I heard some astounding claims about me that are patently absurd. I cannot exactly comprehend why some people would hate me as intensely as they do and for such a length of time but that is their lookout and not mine. Regardless, I am inclined to be more circumspect these days about what I share. I don't want to give the impression that these few possess enough power to influence what I say. They don't. There are more reasons than the one just given and my latest event, which happened near exactly a year after the hip injury was of a supernatural nature. There can be no other explanation. Even the doctors could not accept the given details of what happened. It's pretty freaky out here folks.

Anyway, as dumb and obliging as it may be on my part, I will post documents in German that attest to the truth of my injury last year and at the very least these vipers will have to eat their words. I haven't lied about anything. The price of being exposed for such a thing would be far too much for me to bear. Slander I can and have lived with, knowing in my heart what the truth of the matter is and the beauty of slander, if such a claim can be made, is that it is not accompanied by hard cold fact. It's what I call, Fox Headline Syndrome. Make an outrageous headline and then provide little if anything that backs up the claim; reasoning correctly that headlines are enough for many people.

I don't know why I am writing about this this evening. I seldom know what I will write or why. It just comes with the territory of the ever developing landscape of me and my relationship with that which I serve. I will say some things this evening that I have probably said before in one way or another. Maybe they don't need to be said but I will say them more clearly and directly than I ever have. Hopefully it will explain the why and wherefore of what might not be as obvious as it needs to be.

The only advertising on my sites is free. I will not engage in paid advertising because no one should have editorial control over what gets said here. I could have netted a more comfortable life had I assented to this, given the traffic I get. I have been rude and dismissive in times past and I have done this for one very particular reason and that is the guru thing. If I can demonstrate a degree of human failing it will work contrary to this other perception being placed on me. The reason is that ever since my meeting with The Man of the Beach and the kundalini awakening that attended it, I have been subjected to this kind of treatment and it has happened many times and I have left the place I lived in many times because of it. I do not accept titles and positions. There is only one guru and I am a disciple, only.

Understand this, I know how to play the game. I can do the soft and sweet and light routine and gaze at people with a far away look of presumed wisdom in my eyes and I have seen this charlatan behavior many times. I may not get far in this life and ongoing penury and pariah status may be attendant across my days but i will go down or up on MY (and the ineffable's) terms. I am confident that the record will show the truth of the matter. I have one job and that is to please my creator. Whether I please anyone else is not my concern, nor is it in my hands. It's been said over and over here. Take what is useful and leave the rest.

The  most difficult art that I know of is to be yourself. One might think this is the simplest thing in the world but it is not. First you have to know yourself AND this is something that is revealed as much as discovered and the deeper revelations come at a cost and some portion of that is extracted in pain and suffering and it is always more than the general consciousness is willing to bear and this is ironic because they endure the same pain and suffering, often more but... for the most pedestrian of reasons from which no positive gain, anything like self discovery, is realized. It's that 'mess of pottage' thing. You can't tell the world this or those addicted to the world because the essential job of the world is to be a distraction from this understanding.

Some of us have an easier road of it and some of us have a harder and sometimes much harder time of it and there are reasons other than karma that come into play. Sometimes it has to do with the work one does and the possibilities that might come out of it. If you choose the path of the world, not much will be asked of you in certain areas. You are free to conduct your own enterprises and enjoy the luck of the draw, cleverness and industry and your rewards will be from out of the larder of the world and will be temporary. If you choose the path of the spirit, you may be denied much of what the world has to offer but your rewards will not be temporary, only your suffering ...and measured against the incomprehensible and indescribable gifts of the spirit, that suffering is of no real nor lasting consequence at all.

Shine brightly and let the ineffable go before you in all things and you will not be disappointed. Perhaps you remember my saying that I was told, once I got here, to just be in place. I was told I didn't have to go anywhere or do anything beyond what I do already and that everything needed would take place. Following my most recent incident, in fact, very recently, I was told why this is. "The ineffable is coming, coming into manifestation for every waiting heart." As is often the case, the impact of this on me was great, more so than simply hearing it somewhere else. I could feel the truth of it and it explained everything I had been wondering about. I'll leave you with that.

End Transmission.......

Friday, July 10, 2015

One Day, Every One of us will be Bathed in the Light of the Ineffable.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there and just because you can doesn't mean it is.

At the risk of being subjective here, instead of introspective, which sometimes get's mistaken for it, much as one might mistake the musings of Proust as navel gazing, when he was just doing what Proust did or he would not have been Proust, I will take that risk, given circumstances that have been ongoing for a bit. At one point I was linked at a number of major alternative news gathering sites and that went on for some years, with seldom a problem and during that period I was a great deal more, direct and even bombastic than I have ever been in recent times. If anything, I've scaled back some of the thunder and I have certainly modified my behavior in the comments section. Originally, I agreed with myself, to respond in kind so as to negate any possibility that I would be taken for someone, or something that I am not. I doubt that many readers know how important this is for me because, regardless of what I have elucidated in these postings, there are a myriad of experiences that have never found their way on these pages and given what generally unreported things The Man on the Beach told me and given some of the unreported experiences I have had with others, over the course of time, it is critical that I am crystal clear about certain things. Maybe I overdid it here and there; that is the nature of compensation, or what might be more correctly called, 'overcompensation', (grin).

I have not always possessed a completely objective state of mind and that might still be the case. This means that sometimes I mistake events and trends as something other than what they really are. This is only in the short term, because I do have 20-20 hindsight. However, it does make for errors in judgment where I mistake what I think is happening for what is really happening.

The sites I was linked on are main street, Las Vegas, neon advertising portals. That they are after financial compensation can be reflexively presumed. Besides this, there is often a public crying out for funds. I've done the math on the advertising revenue, vis a vis their daily traffic and with the assistance of certain software and search engine tactics and it's pretty clear to me that these webmasters are living at a level far above anything I know and that is mostly because I have NO paid advertising. I have no paid advertising because I do not want to have to 'grow to depend' on anyone who might at any point object to my saying certain things. I'm not a materialist. In some ways, these webmasters are not much different from those they presume to expose and criticize because they are just looking to do well like all the rest of them. They found a tactic and a platform that let's them present themselves as being on the right side of history but when it comes to bottom line survival issues they don't differ that much from their targets and because of their vulnerability to a drive for personal gain from what they do, their potential to become like those they despise is quite great, given states of necessity they might be placed in and the desire for an ever better and better life.

I was decent to these people and defensive of them, even at the cost of my reputation in the minds of those who don't like them. I never once received any appreciation or acknowledgment of this but I'm not looking for accolades. Regardless of what some might think, I really do want to do the right thing. I may not always be right about what I think that is but I try.

People have said negative things to me about these webmasters now and again. They have called into question my integrity for simply being linked on their sites. These sites link hundreds of articles so... I'm guessing none of us have any integrity according to these anonymous critics. Even today there are people who insist I am a Mason, which I am not nor never have been. They say I am somehow in the employ of the Catholic Church because I do not criticize them enough or recognize that they are behind everything. In my opinion, based on my studies and intuitive gifts (should I actually possess any), I believe the prince of darkness is behind it all and his first line of manifest control is the bankers. Everyone else is secondary or ancillary. This is just what I have found, over and over and over again and what I see in action every day. I do not doubt that there is a multicultural population of offenders of every hue and stripe. I also believe there is a pecking order and that you, 'follow the money'. In any case, I write what I am inspired to write and that's how it goes. As I have so often said, “Take what is useful and leave the rest.” Regardless... all of my illustrations of the manifest realm are simply incidental color commentary, whose purpose is to sinuously and sometimes circuitously find its way to some exposition on the ineffable. That's the whole point and purpose of everything that happens here. I don't care one way or another what opinions some tiny minority may hold about me, that's how it is and it is demonstrated in a daily consistency that doesn't change. It might wobble on occasion but there is a gyroscope in it.

Speaking of circuitousness, let's cut to the chase while there is still space to chase it on; I discovered that a webmaster who had hosted my work for some time had ceased to put me in the daily headlines BUT... I still had my box section and my book was still being shown in the horizontal Rolodex up top of the page. I didn't know about any of this because I seldom paid attention to that site. I just sent in my work and went on to the next thing. It was a reader that alerted me to it. So I began to inquire of the man who was involved in transferring my work to the site. Not only he but every other person I knew from that site refused to respond in any way. If there were, or had been any kind of reason given for this happening, I would be fine with it; life changes and we must adapt. I was expunged from the site completely once I began my inquiries.

You might be wondering, “hasn't he already said some of these same things?” Yes, I have but much has happened since then.

The other major linking site stopped posting my work shortly after I went public about the Rense affair. When I inquired, this time, I got a response. I was told that my work had become too subjective and- of course- my mention of the divine in my postings was anathema to a confirmed and committed atheist. My postings were often rejected, should any mention of the ineffable come about. I was okay with this because I have no problem with people holding certain perspectives that differ from my own. The spiritual evolution of any personality can take a long, long time, depending on the direction they are headed in. I thought it ironic that this atheist, like 99%, objects most virulently, not to the idea of an overseeing creator, but to the vagaries and vices of organized religion. A subtle mind would easily pick up on the differentiation but for some reason, even seemingly intelligent people, find themselves incapable of distinguishing between the two. What makes this even more strange is that they have no problem rejecting the idea of things beyond the reach of their understanding. Put simply, these people reject god because they want to play god and any competition to that is cast off out of hand. If you are going to be god then there can be no gods before you; just like with the real thing. They have decided that they are Invictus. They believe, “I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.” At a certain level and having reached the requisite awareness, this can turn out to be true, after a fashion. It is not true as concerns the ego and its mechanisms of analysis and judgment.

Some time ago I pointed out to the reader that there were individuals in the comments section who were not who they made themselves appear to be. Recently I have heard from different commentators that they have been experiencing bullying tactics from certain long term residents here. They felt I should take a stronger hand in the matter. Not long ago a poster who had been around for some time and who is a bit of a curmudgeon, started to go off on a more regular basis, employing expletives and profanity... generally a sort of, “fuck you!” reaction to anyone who disagreed with him, while at the same time engaging in a passive aggressive manner of cultivating the support of some and unleashing on others. I initially told him he was being over the top and sought to influence him to be less abrasive. He kept at it and finally I informed him that this particular kind of behavior was unacceptable. He unloaded on me in particularly nasty way, as if all of our time together here meant nothing at all. I found that surprising. I didn't print the particular comment because I didn't want to be part of starting a negative back and forth. He hasn't come back around. Maybe he thinks he's banned. He's not.

I bump around one or two comments a month. Sometimes I do it to protect the person posting it, whom I believe would later regret saying it. Other times it is because it is an anonymous hit piece that serves no purpose other than an intent to injure or slander me. One of the reasons I seek to be more equanimitous (yeah, I know it is not an actual word but I'm using it.) these days is to possibly cut back on people offended by my previously direct manner. We are in search of a kinder, gentler visible. This won't dissuade the viper contingent but maybe it will militate generally .across the board. I do not intend to stay fixed in a pattern, unless it is the pattern of a relentless search for the ineffable.

What is the central locus of this whole affair here, today? It is to point out that there is a war on and it is being waged against those who seek to publicize what is true, as opposed to the shitstorm of lies that surround us on all side. In respect of that, some people are finding it near impossible to comment and these sites are being blocked in many areas.

Yes... for the period of a posting or two we are more subjective than some might like. We don't just discuss contemporary conditions and current events to the exclusion of hidden and less visible causes and agendas, or eschew anecdotal examples. We seek, in our poor fashion, to illustrate subjects that have never been easy to articulate. We recognize that we are limited. We recognize that we have shortcomings that need to be overcome. We recognize that we know little when our knowledge is matched up with the cosmic intelligence. We can only do our best and we will make mistakes. We will make mistakes in the precise truth of what is and what is not because we don't know everything and we will make mistakes in our interactions with others because we were not as patient or understanding as we might have been. All I can say is that we are better than we were and that each day we strive to be more so. Of course we will have setbacks but we will step forward again and again until we walk through that timeless portal into the living and eternal light and our ability and possibility of doing this is not dependent of the permissions of anyone here who might object. It depends on the will of the ineffable... and only on the ineffable... alone.

Yes, we have suffered certain dramatic hits in our exposure but strangely, our daily numbers are not that different from what they were before these things happened. I find this hard to understand but it is what it says on the stat page. Although Visible Orgami was the first blog, it receives less traffic than the others and was overtaken in visitor count a long time ago. This speaks to the public's interest in the seen over the unseen.

Sometime in the next couple of weeks, Smoking Mirrors will pass a count of seven million visitors. We'll manage. Only the ineffable has the final say on the particular life of this particular personality and... in truth, this is so for all of us, like it or not. I rest my existence upon the absolute and certain truth of the existence of an ineffable. Believe what you will and may it go well for you. I do wish this for you. I pray it goes well for all of us, though I suspect it will not. However, in the long term, all of us will find the light. The power and will of the ineffable cannot be denied and even if I am never linked anywhere again, I will not cease in talking about the ineffable. Nothing else holds any primary importance for me.

Last Sunday's radio broadcast (about the ineffable) is still up there somewhere.

Thursday, July 02, 2015

Pimp Rolling through the Grand Apocalypse.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet (if you are a dog).

♫Darkness, darkness, be my pillow♫ That's playing on up out of the subconscious of Metaphor Inferno. I'm giving it an 86, cause it's got a good beat and you can kill to it. Of course, as has ever been the case, ♫the knee bone is connected to the foot on the neck bone♫ You see the knee bone here and you see the foot on the neck bone here. It doesn't matter what direction you come out of, you will traverse some variation of darkness being the pillow of the evil dreamers. Then again, if, like myself you are a patterns type but not a seamstress, you are not unable to draw relationships to what has been already linked here ...and to origin focal points like this. If you are the sort that does not see patterns, you are caught up in the changing colors, spinning off of those big fabric mill rollers... endlessly spinning ...the colors are irrelevant to the cause and condition. You got to go up into the think tank cabals if you want to find out why blood crimson is the prevailing hue.

The, in your face, spectacle of ridiculous nonsense, has no limits. Certainly, you're going to hear about fantasy gas chambers, already convincingly proven to have not existed. It has been 70 years since the Hollywood concentration camp resorts got closed down. This means if you were ten years old at the time of the closing, you would be 80 now. If you were 10 years old back in their earlier time zone, you would be closer to 90 years old What is easily as magical as the 'official' fabricated death count, is the present day, hundreds of thousands, some say millions, of hollogramcaust survivors still pogo sticking up and down on that victim industry trampoline, doing back flips, front flips and even splits for those with the geriatric, pornographic, gymnastic fetish. Meanwhile, the descendants of the architects of the Holodomor, recreational mass murder spree. which is many, many, many times larger than the whole of the WW-2 concentration camp numbers, at least according to the official Red Cross numbers are still at it. The same people also were behind the Soviet mass murders which were many times larger than the Holodomor. Did I just mention this yesterday? Yeah... I did.

Inescapable facts are inescapable facts but they are meaningless if you don't give a shit one way or another. If you are being 'groomed' to get your news from Max Headroom and your history from Professors Beavis and Butthead, you're a naturalized citizen of Idiocracy. You're drinking Big Gulp's of Brawndo and you're a survivor, just like those survivors already mentioned, of the Great Garbage Avalanche of 2505, except it seems to have happened much earlier. Yes, the great garbage avalanche happened in the past, not in the future or maybe... maybe it has happened in both locations of that same river you can't step into twice. It makes me think of that short story at the back of Magister Ludi, where the guy goes to mediate on the bank of a river.

The level (that's a palindrome by the way and... ironic too?) of garbage is utterly amazing and tens of millions accept it as their daily ration, individually portioned and segmented into their little sections on the TV dinner tray. It's all the same garbage, differently colorized. Denial is a trolley car that carries them from one oasis of illusion to another. If you call attention to yourself as someone who does not see, out of the window of the car, what is being streamed for the purpose of deception, but instead see what is actually there, your bus pass gets revoked and your microphone is turned off. That's how it is at the moment. Big Time Change is before the parole board. He's coming out of the prison system. Mr Apocalypse hot-rodded his case through the appeals court and he's about to hit the street. In order for Big Change to get his walking around free card, levers had to be pulled and buttons had to be pushed in the underground factory from whence springs all manifestation, same as foliage comes up out of the ground; same process, different format.

The same old same old goes on for so long as the same blueprints get ferried from wherever the blueprints come from, down to the underground factory, via those pneumatic tubes. Nothing has come down those tubes in a long time that wasn't some permutation of same old same old. This is because every age of more or less 2200 years (and all of them are) is like a cassette stuck into a tape player or a CD stuck in a CD player. They are programmed but they are multidimensionally programmed. This means there is not just sound on the cassette or CD but also colors and shapes and people in outfits that move along the lines of progressive fashion accidents, in sequence with the particular technologies allocated for the period. You get stone age. You get bronze age and on and on, badly recorded of course but they run on up until a kind of near instantaneous is reached. Everything starts going too fast to get out of the way of it and Materialism flows like molasses, sticky and viscous but muy rapido. Night comes and darkness floods the land of cookie cutter forms, congealing into whatever the morrow brings. The sun comes up and everything is shining and glistening with the dew of the newly manifested. Comes the evening and it is all become shabby but... there's something about the way the lights hit the surfaces and it don't look all that bad through the atmosphere of glittering, narcotic dream smoke.

What the same old same old is composed of is not so much the rising and falling of replicating environments... moving to more and more lightweight synthetic compounds out of which the scenery is constructed. It's consciousness and the shared collective awareness of what is defined as real by the mass mind that wouldn't know real from a dead Elvis flash mob and that accounts for the slot car, on rails, penitentiary planet we presently inhabit where Ignorance is royalty, swanning about like gangbangers in Eight Ball jackets, pimp rolling through the apocalypse, as it were. Dumbass wears a crown. Dumbass is the emperor. You might think that that isn't Dumbass up their on the dais. Dumbass is the crowd genuflecting around Dumbass and... you could be right. Dumbass is the crowd and the emperor is whoever is the most corrupt and compromised by the puppeteers that own the currency presses. So... what you actually got is mostly Dumbass and completely Dumbass and then you got the ones that bought up Power and Light. They built the malls and the condos and the golf courses. They closed down the domestic manufacturing zones because they couldn't squeeze enough profit and they recreated the industrial base in third world countries where life and labor are cheap and the products are unsafe and creations of expedited obsolescence. When you print the money you can do anything you want and when money is your god, you cannot have too much.

Of course, your focus then becomes riveted on the high end returns and that means munitions, advanced weaponry, perpetual war ...and all the other things that used to be crimes and still are if you are not a member of the syndicate; for the privileged elite there are no punishable offenses. Disorder is the rule and disorder is a timed explosive. It doesn't have a fuse. It has an elastic wire and it follows the 'repent of the pull rule'. It's like critical mass.

All of those ages we were talking about, they got certain periods in them, sometimes it's a renaissance and sometimes it's the 60's or The Yellow Nineties. Sometimes it's a Thirty Years war or a world war. Sometimes it's an industrial revolution and sometimes... sometimes, it's an apocalypse. Every one of these has got their own rules that come embedded with the cassette. Still, they have a relative similarity and regardless of how liberal it might be in one zone, there is an intensity of the opposite somewhere else. However, with an apocalypse, everything is very different. It might start out slow but, Whoa! It will get up to speed and... when it is a Grand Apocalypse... anything can happen.

It's a blur out there. The confusion is intense. The noise of the flash bang grenades of sensation is stupefying and I'm guessing that is where Stupid comes from. You can't expect Stupid to eat right or do much of anything right. For some reason, Stupid is still around but not for long. Stupid has a poor shelf life. So does Clever, when you are in an apocalypse.

We are where we are until we are somewhere else. The latter depends of the former;


End Transmission........

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The eponymous Les Visible Music Album

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