Steganography and synchromysticism researcher, Stephers, shared a few odd points about the E. Palestine, Ohio train accident and chemical spill that I want to pass along to whoever might be interested.
Stephers: “In this interview, they mention “HAZMAT suits”…and Nathan Izotic mentions “in his industry.” Yet it is NEVER mentioned that he, himself, is a specialist in chemicals (and his wife, Kelly, trained specifically in chemicals and toxicology)…and OSHA HAZMAT certified…Why are they not assisting, given their expertise?”
Me: They also had only moved to the vicinity the previous year, so I’d say they are not exactly ‘locals’ as in they would know the area and people well enough to be the best candidates to interview.
Stephers: “Kelly Izotic (acting as worried local resident) works for Microbac Laboratories. She does not mention that she is an environmental chemical field technician, nor what her company does. If honest, she should be educating the public on air quality and remediation, and supporting on-the-ground hazardous waste analysis.”
Me: Why not interview them as experts in the field, which they clearly are, instead of ‘concerned locals’? And why does she have that insouciant grin the whole time, and he looks like he has to bite his lip to not follow suit and then points to an invisible rash on his face?
They don’t look too concerned to me. Nerves? Bad acting? Or perhaps beaming on the inside with the bank they are about to make on this deal?
Just asking, inquiring minds want to know!
And, even more odd, also received from Stephers:
From the article linked below:
“Ohio resident Ben Ratner was excited when he landed a gig as an extra in a Netflix movie about a toxic disaster in October 2021.
But now the 37-year-old father of four — who lives in East Palestine, Ohio, less than a mile from the site of a train derailment that led to a massive toxic chemical spill and forced residents to evacuate — is living out a real-life version of the movie’s plot that’s continuing to unfold.
“Talk about art imitating life,” Ratner — who plays an evacuee in the film adaptation of Don DeLillo’s novel White Noise about a freight train explosion that releases deadly toxins into the air — tells PEOPLE.
And if that were enough, add another little gem . . .
Ratner’s Star is a 1976 novel by Don DeLillo. It relates the story of a child prodigy mathematician who arrives at a secret installation to work on the problem of deciphering a mysterious message that appears to come from outer space. The novel has been described as “famously impenetrable”. Stephers: I still find it super synchy that Ben Ratner’s mom is named Beth…and *another* Beth Ratner (NOT his mom) just happens to have worked in environmental toxin/hazardous spills clean-up:
This is a summary, of sorts, to Jasun Horsley’s thought-provoking work: Prisoner of Infinity: UFOs, Social Engineering and the Psychology of Fragmentation adapted, in my mind, to the song: I’ve Seen All Good People by YES.
All good people . . .
“One connection I made (in my own mind at least) early on was to the transhumanist movement, something I’d been researching while looking into autism (a project that got steamrollered by this one). I had looked briefly into Ray Kurzweil and ‘The Singularity,” and planned to cite it in passing in the larger context of SRI and spiritual engineering.”
So satisfied . . .
For all the Eastern spiritual jargon favored by these individuals and institutes, the aims they put forth (in common with those of trans humanism and the Singularity) are really indistinguishable from the aims of Western occultism (and groups like Scientology): namely, the development of superpowers. In the West, we tend to confuse psychism with spiritual attainment. Yet from and Eastern point of view, they are seen as at odds with one another—hence the many warnings about ‘siddhis’.”
I’m on my way . . .
“To give an example: One way in which experiences get swept up by a sense of being on a world-saving mission is by trying to get the government (and other people) to see what the aliens are doing. Scratch the surface of this phantastic narrative and underneath we may find something more mundane and tragic: the frustration and torment of a child, unable to get his parents (or other adults, if the abuse or neglect is by the parents) to see what’s happening to him. The experiencer’s experience then becomes part of a larger, unconscious reenactment, meant to bring about whatever resolution failed to occur when it was most needed.”
Move on to any black square, use me anytime you want . . .
“Implicit in this scenario is the understanding that, to become more than human entails becoming less than human. Ironically, the same subhuman indifference to other people’s pain—the complete absence of empathy or compassion or conscience—must be extended to the controllers who are performing these horrendous conditioning exercises. Possibly it is even one of their goals, based on an understanding that, the more abhorrent the acts they commit, the more desensitized they will become, the more ‘invulnerable’ and ‘powerful’ they will experience themselves to be.”
For the Queen to use . . .
“Returning to the more solid ground of Industrial Light & Magic Reaganomics; if,as the evidence suggests, none of this is coincidental but is by careful design, then the entire Star Wars phenomenon—which continues to fire people’s most irrational, romantic responses to this day—is very different from what millions of impassioned devotees have hitherto dreamed of, even in their wildest fantasies. Such innocence may not only be a luxury: It may also be a commodity. The soul-deep mythic yearning of entire generations, tapped into by the use of images and carefully designed narratives, transmuted into a power source to be harnessed and directed into specific goals of progress, all in service of The Empire.”
Don’t surround yourself with yourself . . .
“One reason for the appeal of secret societies lies in what might be called the lure of the arcane. It is a basic human impulse to enjoy secrets, to be included in a special group that has privileged information about any subject that matter to the individual, whether government, finance, sports, the arts, or religion. In the mid-nineteenth venture Thomas De Quincey wrote: “To be hidden amidst crowds is sublime—to come down hidden amongst crowds from distant generations is double sublime.” De Quince was writing with a degree of cynicism about those who feel they are connected by ‘the grander link of awful truths which, merely to shelter themselves from the hostility of an age unprepared for their reception, must retire, perhaps for generations, behind thick curtains of secrecy.’ Yet his cynicism correctly identified a widespread phenomenon. A venture later C.G. Jung observed that ‘there is no better means of intensifying the treasured feeling of individuality than the possession of a secret which the individual is pledged to guard. The very beginnings of societal structures reveal the craving for secret organizations..’ This impulse accounts for the self-protective tendency among the young, but also among their seniors, to join teams, clubs, gangs, political parties, professional associations, and other circles.”
The Lure of the Arcane: The Literature of Cult and Conspiracy; Ziolkowski, Theodore. (Only the final quote.). I found both books to be interesting, but only Horsley’s would I recommend as being particularly relevant to current events.
This is a post that defies logic, as I suppose you could already tell from the title. But, irrationality only scares me when it’s collective and blindly enforced.
For example, did you know that it’s illegal to possess an owl, dead or alive? Even an owl feather. I thought that was just a rumor, or one of those old, dumb laws that never get enforced and most folks have forgotten about anyway.
That is, until I called our local taxidermist to have one stuffed.
As chance, or synchronicity would have it, we found one dead in our front yard this past week. If you’ve ever seen one that close, and handled one, they are truly gorgeous and remarkable creatures. It looked perfectly healthy and in the prime of its life with no visible injuries or defects.
As chance, or synchronicity would have it, I’ve just been reading about owl symbolism in an interesting book called Lords of the Left-Hand Path: Forbidden Practices and Spiritual Heresies.
Those familiar with such symbolism will surely associate ‘dark magician’ Alister CrOWLy and Bohemian Grove with the owl. For many Christians the association will seem sinister and foreboding. To Satanists, however, the owl is known as the mascot of the sorcerers and a symbol of paranormal wisdom.
Belonging to neither of these faiths, I felt only awe, and deep sadness, as it appears from burns on its talons that it was electrocuted while feeding on a rodent. I revere and honor wildlife and abhor seeing it destroyed, whether accidentally or deliberately. The tears I shed for this beautiful creature are a testament to that fact.
I thought, what way might we honor the life of this magnificent being? I set it on the table, pulled the wings out to their full span, gently cleared a bit of grass from its feathers, and called the taxidermist.
I’ve never wanted or particularly liked mounted animal trophies. But, it just felt wrong to not do something, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do.
The taxidermist on the other end of the line took such a serious tone at my simple question it immediately jarred me.
“I could go to jail!” He meant me, as well as him, and sounded so paranoid I tried to defend myself.
“But we found him dead in the front yard!” I explained again. “What should I do with it then?”
Throw it in the trash was his reply.
He then proceeded to discourage me from calling any other taxidermists lest my loose lips land me in jail.
So, this is how to honor the death of a revered and respected wild predator—throw it in the trash? Yet another brilliant Government mandate, no doubt.
Reminds me of a meme I recently read: “If you think our problems are bad, just wait till you see our solutions.”
If owls really are as wise as the myths make them out to be, I seriously doubt they’re resting in peace.
To y’all, from me, your rude, arrogant, selfish, bitchy, teasing, crazy, conspiracy theorist, antagonistic, irrational, petty, entitled, condescending, hermit-spinster, witch-doctor, gray hag, squirrel-cheeked, monkey-faced, mostly bitter, salty, solipsistic, rage-filled, nobody of an American homesteader.
YUP, that’s my 50 year old cleavage in a 35 year old hand-beaded necklace gifted by my mother-in-law. It’s also a tribute, then and now, to Handy Hubby’s new life, and all that he may be missing. And gaining.
And there’s that pesky teasing coming out again.
More on that, so much more, don’t go away. Hasta pronto . . .
In the meantime . . . Celebrate YOURSELF!
In my humble opinion, Halloween is when the spirits are begging us, goading us even, to celebrate our precious LIFE! As in, those final precious hours before it’s all over.
The Wandering Jew & The Lucky Bamboo: A Fictional Conspiracy Theory
Do you understand the plants are made just like that? Compare them to the ones that were like, painstakingly crafted?
If you knew there was a difference, would you wonder who crafted it, and how, or even why?
Did you know the sandwhich, the olive, the vodka, were all crafted? Of course you did.
But did you know also was the potato, the tulip, the rose, even the honeybee?
That I hate going to the dentist is no mystery. But in some States, particularly in the South, it seems, sedation is an option. Now I hate going to the dentist slightly less than before, as in all my way too long functional memory. On the gas, there is some enlightenment, as you’ll see.
Twice now I’ve been to the dentist since the Plandemic, because I have dental issues since childhood, not to mention dental trauma, from the choking fluoride treatment molds that tormented me every six months for a decade. That I found these treatments horrific is considered a mental weakness on my part. That my mom paid for them from her hard-earned wages, and trusted them, breaks my heart to this day.
Now they’ve required me to sign a checklist that I have no symptoms of the Covid during these last two visits where only the gas, and lovely company of kind women, guard my fragile acquiescence .
At these days they’ve also insisted on taking my temperature via a digital thermometer directed precisely at my 3rd eye.
That is, the pineal gland. Little do they know, I’m sure, the conspiracy theories that surround that teeny-tiny gland. Right behind the directed laser pointed right there, to which they are given a number, as if that is the only signal that instrument is designed to relate. And as if they would know any other reason why this instrument is now being more normalized than the obscene body scanners at the airport.
I hate dentists, so much so that my latest dentist is my heroine. She gets what honest dentist-hate is like. She commends my stoicism in the chair, bless her heart. I honor her sacrificial hours and delicate sensitivity which I recognize as akin to artistry. She really is someone worthy of far more than her title. I like her, and I’m not being even remotely sarcastic. I can hardly imagine what it’s like to be a woman like that.
“Feelings are considered to be internal human structure and architecture. But what you imagine and create are far more important—and the creative process radically and naturally changes feelings in a positive way, as a side effect.” Jon Rappaport
On the gas, I reflect, and tears flow, beyond my knowing, how. They are so kind, they see, they don’t define. Are you ok? Yes, I am, right here, right now, I am ok. And I see how flimsy that is this sedated happy feeling in the here and now.
Are you? Are y’all? Is that enough? Is that ok? Do you load yourself with duty and then pray you’ll sleep and have enough still to spend another day?
Would you have enough pity, prana, love, care, energy, to say . . .
Would you really like to know what it was like for me, in the pit, today?
I did not get the impression s/he did. Bypassing is our only call of fame. From the pedestal the pit cannot be understood. There is no degree of compassion that might pacify the pit.
Because you see, in the pit, your compassion is where I most love to shit.
That you preach how I should feel makes it that much more worse
But you praise and anoint yourselves with kudos and more books
It is an annoying block to enlightenment for those who perpetually misunderstand. And are misunderstood.
“If I do not describe the details of our work it is because we were busied with things which lie beyond speech and which therefore elude the spell that words exert. But everyone will remember how his mind has labored in regions which he cannot portray, whether it were in dreams or in deep thought. It seemed as if he were groping for the right road in labyrinths or sought to unravel the figures among the patterns of an optical illusion. And often he awoke wonderfully strengthened. This is where our best work takes place, and so it seemed to us, too, that in our struggle speech was still inadequate, and that we must penetrate into the depths of the dream if we were to withstand the threat against us.”
The cynicism that regards all hero worship as comical is always shadowed by a sense of physical inferiority.” Occulture: The Unseen Forces That Drive Culture Forward by Carl Abrahamsson
This question was emblazoned on a bright yellow t-shirt with a smiley face, gifted from Hubby’s place of employment several years ago.It’s been the butt of jokes ever since.
Folks can’t even talk to their own loved ones about how they’re really feeling, but the wise guys in Human Resources imagine a worker will feel motivated to show and tell thanks to a cheesy slogan on a free t-shirt.That’s a special brand of marketing brilliance right there.
I suppose there’s more than a few veterans who feel this way, too—they need to communicate how they’re feeling as a form of psychic hygiene—yet when they do there’s a half a dozen ‘highly-trained’ shrinks taking notes and filling the next DSM with their dysfunctional honesty and using their confessions to prescribe a list of solutions based entirely on poppycock.
Happy.Sad.Angry.Bored.Afraid.Please to check appropriate box.That’s become, please to choose appropriate emoji.
But, How are you really feeling?These times are being prescribed as the days that try men’s souls—so I am asking out of sincere caring—how are you really feeling?I suspect you don’t even have sufficient words to describe it, since feelings came long before words, which is why man had to invent art. And then reduce it to emojis.
Did you ever consider that love and fear are both feelings of petrification?They are emotions of freezing in time and space.They serve to protect the species through seduction.In love we long for time to stand still, yet it races.In our memory or recollection it takes hours to sift through minutes.As in fear time seems to stand still, an agonizing splitting into nanoseconds.
Where were you when JFK was shot?Who told you about 9/11?What were you doing when the hurricane hit?Why didn’t you evacuate/shelter in place/donate/volunteer/follow orders/surrender your weapon/buy ammo/plant a garden . . .??
How are you really feeling?Does it fit in the box?
Fear, like love, are the static aspects of feelings that are meant to cause actions—those of survival—run for your life, or care for another’s.
Does fear, or love, inspire you to action?Why, or, why not?
Please feel free to reply at length in space below. True empathic response to follow.
A brief lesson on analyzing toxic female behavior using two real-life personal anecdotes.
Part One:“The Beautiful Budding Gymnast”
When I was about ten years old I liked gymnastics, but I wasn’t good at it.I was briefly amazed by a neighbor girl who was really good at it.She was a bit older, but one time she let me come over to her house to practice.Not only was she really good at gymnastics, she was also exceptionally beautiful—quite tall for her age, with shining, straight, long black hair and perfect alabaster skin.She reminded me of a real-life princess and I felt almost troll-like standing next to her.
Her mom was there, an attractive divorcé who remarried shortly after that day, the two of them moved and I never saw her again.That wasno big deal though, because I wasn’t friends with the girl, I just admired her beauty and talent.
What has stuck with me my entire life about that day was something her mother said, because I would discover this again and again throughout my life in my dealings with certain toxic people, especially women: Their stated perception about reality trumps reality itself.
Nowadays they call it ‘pathological narcissism’ or any other number of psychological terms, and Gaslighting has become the clever term for their favorite tool of perception control.
The girl wanted her mom to ‘judge a competition’ between her and I on our gymnastic skills.Of course, we all knew who would win that competition.Apparently though, the mother had decided, unbeknownst to us, to give me a few bonus points in advance. Perhaps due to my younger age, or my more novice standing, or just because she wanted to teach her daughter (or me) a lesson?
I watched the girl’s clearly superior cartwheel with simple, honest envy.How I’d love to cartwheel that perfectly, I thought!She would probably go to the Olympics I suspected, with a cartwheel like that.
I was sure if I practiced enough I could be that good, but back then I had trouble keeping my legs stiff in the air and landing in a straight line.Her mother, however, claimed my cartwheel was definitely better, to the jaw-dropping astonishment of us both.
How she lies!I was baffled. The girl objected, naturally.I objected, confused as all hell.The mother insisted.And for decades I’ve analyzed this lie, turned it over in my head, compared it to what I’ve heard and observed with others, and to what I see happening in the society at large.
I do believe by now I’ve got a pretty good handle on this particular brand of heavy duty gaslighting.What makes it so harmful is that it’s so insidious, so easily masked, with layers of plausible deniability—it’s a real life example of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.The evil step-mother type is easy to discern, so not nearly as confusing, therefore not nearly as dangerous.
At first I thought, like is natural to do, to give the mother the benefit of the doubt.But no, it’s not really about encouraging humility in the achiever, because we both knew she was lying, and she knew that we knew.False humility is manipulative and to force her daughter to pretend to be ‘less than’ she actually was would be a mean trick, seems to me.
It was also not about assuaging the real loser’s feelings, though she would surely insist her intentions were both of these efforts toward virtue.But, if she had really been concerned about my feelings in that situation, she should’ve pointed out my flaws directly and asked her daughter if she’d be so kind as to spend some time to help me with them, because that’s what I really wanted. I already knew plenty of places by that tender age where I could go to get lied to.
So really, it was about assigning herself the loftiest role in the room, that of the High Priestess, aka, Perception Manager.And in doing so, she takes it on herself to gaslight everyone else in the vicinity.It’s not virtuous, it’s self-serving.It’s not about creating harmony, it’s about stifling dissent.It’s not about fostering relatedness, it’s about establishing hierarchical control. Though she would admit nothing of the sort, I’m sure.
Not only will she readily lie to others, she will then lie to herself about what her lies mean.These are not ‘little white lies’ to avoid being unnecessarily hurtful.
Conflict avoidance is also not a virtue, it’s a tactic.
These are the relentless Political Correctness promoters.Anything not coated in marzipan, according to the Toxic Feminine, is considered hate speech and outside the purview of polite discourse, (unless they do it, which is always ‘out of fear’ they say, but actually it’s just avoiding minor discomfort and loss of total control of the given situation).Bring up voting at the dinner table and you’ll get a heel to the shin.Try to discuss your cousin’s drug abuse and you’ll get an eye roll.Mention your pending divorce and she’ll change the subject, most likely to her own pending divorce.
An excellent mind-f**k movie of this popular leitmotif, from the French, because they do it best: La Moustache
She’ll even police your language and behavior at the bar after three martinis from a distance, this is the level of professionalism we’re dealing with here, like she learned directly from the Fabian Society experts themselves!
We see the negative impact of this brand of perception control to the microscopic level everywhere we look today.Everyone gets to choose any reality based on their personal preferences—boys can be girls, girls can be boys; whites can call themselves blacks ‘on the inside’; beauty at every size, even morbidly obese; sunny weather claimed even when the sky is murky with filth; adults behaving like children and children posing as adults; abuse labeled as quirky fun; poisons labeled as food; violence sold as entertainment; indoctrination called education, and on and on. Give the devil a finger, as the adage goes.
Where are the ADULTS?
She’ll happily blame every social ill on “The Patriarchy,” right after she cashes her welfare check and swings by WIC for more free baby formula.And it’s getting worse exponentially now.
To be an unwed mother with three babies from three fathers is not even considered an undesirable familial or social situation anymore. I wish I were exaggerating!
This wolf-in-sheep’s clothing toxic deception harms every level of social life, from the relations between the genders, to the family unit, to the political sphere.
If the gaslighting gets pushed any heavier in this country the demand for wool is going to skyrocket!
Or maybe, all is not yet lost in space. Some critical thinking is being applied in some small circles.
Here’s a hopeful and educational interview with Justin Deschamp and Adam Riva on Dauntless Dialogue: Social Engineering of the Male-Female Dynamic, that’s well worth some deep consideration. What’s been created, expressly, is a culture of acceptable gaslighting—socially-engineered through propaganda for reasons of control—promoting a culture of confusion, distraction, and distorted value systems that force individual, inter-relational, social and political imbalance. So the oligarchical controllers are then appeased to, eternally, by their hapless subjects to create order out of their physical, intellectual and emotional chaos.
That’s the lesson of the beautiful budding gymnast.