Another installment of excellent links. Little time these days for more thoughtful posts, and that’s a good thing, since it’s spring! The real world of my garden trumps the cyber world of my words every time.
I do continue to research the State of our Global Enslavement, and find it more logical by the day. More on that soonish.
In the meantime, in case you care to follow some of the threads in our collective web of lies, here’s a few I find of value.
“This entire process has extremely interesting parallels with the theme of space fakery whether it’s propagated by NASA or the space agencies of other nations. We don’t have verifiable images of viruses; we don’t have verifiable whole (non-composite) images of the Earth, or many other space bodies such as moons, planets, etc. Instead we are fed CGIs and told not to question authority Is this science or is this faith-based Scientism? To what extent are we being manipulated when we are denied real and true photographs of the world around us, both on a micro and macro level? I would argue to a massive extent.”
Source – off-guardian.org “…Why, against all the evidence, do they sneeringly and contemptuously defend the crumbling illusion that ‘the great and good’ are up there somewhere, have everything in hand, have only our best interests at heart, and are scrupulous, wise and sincere? That the press serves the people and truth rather than the crooks? […]
“This essay has focussed on what I consider to be the deepest psychological driver of conspiracy denial. There are certainly others, such as the desire to be accepted; the avoidance of knowledge of, and engagement with, the internal and external shadow; the preservation of a positive and righteous self-image: a generalised version of the ‘flying monkey’ phenomenon, in which a self-interested and vicious class protect themselves by coalescing around the bully; the subtle unconscious adoption of the sociopathic worldview (e.g. ‘humanity is the virus’); outrage addiction/superiority complex/status games; a stunted or unambitious intellect that finds validation through maintaining the status quo; the dissociative protective mechanism of imagining that crimes and horrors committed repeatedly within our lifetime are somehow not happening now, not ‘here’; and plain old fashioned laziness and cowardice.“
I remember being completely baffled in Thailand that an enormous, highly profitable industry had been developed around skirting the law. I lived there for a year, that’s where Hubby and I met, as ‘illegals’.
Visa scams, that was my first real foray into consciously participating in organized crime. I’m sure there were many other unconscious occasions before that.
Legal work arounds are like problem solving for dummies. It’s just kicking the proverbial can. It’s not even hacking at the branches instead of the roots, it’s supporting from, and profiting from, conspiracy and corruption. The problem is not fixed, it’s not meant to be. Nothing has disturbed the foundation of power abuse in the slightest, and that’s how it continues unabated. There’s a fat middle layer making enough money to bow to the status quo, and I played right into it. Just cross the border into Myanmar every 3 months, pay the required fees, and your ‘tourist’ visa is magically renewed, no questions asked.
That was the same year I read in the newspaper that the new Minister of Culture declared unequivocally, on the record loud and clear, that there was absolutely no sex trade in Thailand. That was 20 years ago, but still I remember thinking, I wonder how many people can read that statement with a straight face?
I was dissociated. I thought these were the sort of things that happened in corrupt ‘3rd and 2nd world’ countries. Even though I saw such similar charades in my life before that time, like the Iran-Contra ‘hearings’ that were televised laughable nonsense, it all still seemed remote from real life, officially far from the average Jane, in comparison to these other places, where the corruption was completely accepted, obvious on a daily basis, right upfront and center and requiring ample resources of time and cash every 3 months.
If it weren’t for those experiences I might not get so bristled when I see such adjustments to tyranny happening here and now. Making money off corruption is as common here as it ever was in any banana republic, and our officials will also look the camera right in the eye, and lie. And those profiting from it will look you right in the eye, and smirk. And those going along to get along, just wanting to travel and live their lives, like I once did, will look you right in the eye, and shrug.
Just like them, rather than heroes truly bucking the system, standing up against the fake foods and fake weather and fake pandemics, we have snake oil salesmen selling $50 an ounce wellness tea and boogalu crystals and chemtrail umbrellas and worst of all, a million fucking ‘wellness coaches’ who will adjust your ass to the insanity to the tune of $200/hour.
It’s so rare to find any real truth or honor these days it seems appropriate to align with the misanthropes and to share and sing their praises more often, as I intend to do.
“All your toys, your ipods and iphones and all their clever apps, are not signs of your freedom or your power. They are not signs of progress. They are methods of stunning. Every connection you have to the media is like an electrode physically implanted into your brain, preventing you from acting either logically or by any residual intuition. In a word, you ARE controlled. Do not fear the future: the controllers do not require implanted computer chips or stronger drugs or HAARP waves or unmanned police blimps. The program is already nearly perfect. It was already nearly perfect a century ago. These horror stories of chips and waves and blimps and so on are just planted stories, planted to make you think the problem lies in the future, with something they may do. If you are worried about future legislation, you forget to remember all the legislation of the last hundred years.”
Hope is out there, for those who care to venture beyond their comfort zone, but to listen is going to cost you something much more precious than money. So, if you can’t imagine there is something more precious than money, don’t venture further.
“Plague justified the rules that kept a person in her place. . . . We’ve seen how plague became the reason, just like terrorism today, for social regulation, for saying how children must behave, for taking a worker’s right to choose what work he wanted, for deciding which of the poor are worthy of help and which are just wastrels. Plague enforced frontiers that were otherwise wonderfully insecure, and made our movements and travels conditional. It helped to make the state a physical reality, and gave it ambitions.” ~ Michael Pye, The Edge of the World
In the ten Stages of Genocide where are we now?
Why are the Covid non-compliant called selfish when it’s the vaccine pushers who are rushing science so they can return faster to their personal pursuits of pleasure?
Hat tip to Dispatches from the Asylum for posting this highly relevant quote: “In keeping silent about evil, in burying it so deep within us that no sign of it appears on the surface, we are implanting it, and it will rise up a thousand fold in the future. When we neither punish nor reproach evildoers, we are not simply protecting their trivial old age, we are thereby ripping the foundations of justice from beneath new generations.” ― Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 1918–1956
I rewrite this personal anecdote every few years, whenever it feels I might be able to improve it a bit at just a moment when I feel the seed may fall on fertile ground.
The scene: Me, alone, 1989, traveling by train through Italy, Czech Republic, Poland, East Germany before a semester abroad in Lille, France:
The demand at every border, on both sides of the border, by intimidating uniformed men who could tell instantly I was a foreigner, well before my passport and visas were promptly presented. This is, for reference, even in the five miles it takes across ‘no man’s land’ from East Germany to West, between Germany and Italy, between Czech Republic and Slovakia, etc.
For reference, imagine traveling the equivalent of 3 states in New England and having to show your papers 6 times, even in the middle of the night in your sleeping car. Whether they chose to search your backpack or detain you for any number of unknown reasons depended more on the officials’ mood than anything you might say in the moment, so you learn quickly to keep your mouth shut, nod and smile, A LOT.
It was annoying and intimidating but especially, for me as a young, naive American, it was baffling. As was the constant currency exchanging, the shifting languages, the ghost-town Sundays when everything was closed. I was already used to being mobile across vast distances since my earliest memories without any of these inconveniences. It seemed primitive to me. Backwards, less advanced culturally, surviving from the Stone Age.
It was the first time I really considered a few of the advantages of my home country, since it was already trendy by that time at university to defile the uncouth, uneducated ‘ugly American abroad’.
When I went back again after grad school in the mid-90s I saw for the first time protestors against the European Union and heard for the first time the word “Globalism”. I considered those protestors as I did the other European inconveniences, that is, yet more survivors of the Stone Age. I’d bought the propaganda like the good student I was.
Please note—I was bold enough to travel through foreign countries alone as a ‘cute young thang’, foolish enough to roll my eyes at border officials (once), confident enough to crash on strangers’ couches or even on a bench of a train platform, desperate enough to work illegally, dumb enough to smoke hash in the loo, smart enough to learn a few foreign languages—but not nearly wise enough to recognize the mountain of propaganda I’d swallowed—hook, line and sinker.
No borders? Single currency? One GIANT happy Global family? What in carnation could be wrong with those protestors??
I saw the EU maneuvers as the continuation of a smooth skate in an ever-ascending flow toward cultural Enlightenment.
I was a front-row witness to an explosion of progress and those protestors were a visual menace to Europe’s peaceful transition. Thankfully for me, they were really easy to ignore. The politicians and media agreed with me, obviously, and slurred and minimized their pathetic attempts at being such bitter clingers to the past.
Ringing any bells yet?
It wasn’t for several more years that a few pinholes pierced through my blinders. First, it was non-stop celebration.
I lived on the Czech side of what was referred to as Sudetenland, just past the west German border and the goods were flowing, fast. The thrill of choosing between 3 kinds of toilet paper, the gratitude for non-fat yogurt, the convenience of plastic wrap and home phones and fancy new trains, all upstaged the coming onslaught, for a while.
Then the McDonalds came, and the ubiquitous candy and junk food and porn and the flood of advertising. And, once the EU was firmly established by the end of the decade throughout most of Europe, it became nearly impossible for an unconnected American to find legal work anymore.
And if that wasn’t all bad enough, then came the crowds.
Booming tourism, which I once believed would be a great thing, began invading all my favorite quiet haunts and deserted streets and the subtle, muted colors of old Europe went proverbially (and sometimes literally) neon.
And, finally, I questioned, “Uh-oh, what have I been blindly supporting through my ignorance and short-sidedness all this time?”
It had never occurred to me for a moment that I might be inviting in Tyranny through the back door. I’d considered myself an advocate of progress. But, I was not wise enough to ask: “Whose version of progress?”
The American Empire is on its last legs, but I never wanted, or asked, to be a part of any empire. Progress to me now means something very different than it did 3 decades ago. I wish we could go down more gracefully than the empires of the past, but there’s little hope of that.
So instead of hoping for a miracle I work, with growing awareness in ever-increasing ranks, toward piercing more pinholes in all those as unaware and propagandized as I once was—those who are still blinded by tyranny in its many guises and stuck in various roles of keeping it alive and thriving, while insanely badgering on about ‘progress’.
The artists know. They just don’t know exactly what they know, or how they know it. Can you see what he feels?
Beginning in 1890, Jacques-Arsene d’Arsonval (1851-1940) Director of the Laboratory of Biological Physics at the College de France, investigates how electricity of high frequencies affect living organisms. The facts proved, he wrote, “That the currents of high frequency penetrate deeply into the organism.”
The Scream (1893) Edvard Munch
G. Marconi, electrical engineer, had not heard of D’Arsonval’s research.
“If radio waves are dangerous, Marconi, of all people in the world, should have suffered from them. Let us see if he did.
As early as 1896, after a year and a half of experimenting with radio equipment in his father’s attic, the previously healthy 22-year-old youth began running high temperatures which he attributed to stress. These fevers were to recur for the rest of his life. By 1900 his doctors were speculating that perhaps he had unknowingly had rheumatic fever as a child. By 1904 his bouts of chills and fevers had become so severe that it was thought they were recurrences of malaria. At that time he was so occupied with building a permanent super-high-power radio link across the Atlantic Ocean between Cornwall, England and Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.”
It comes as no surprise to me that there are those at this dark hour who still refuse to see
Welcome to 2021 Where Obedience to tyrants is sanctioned supreme Compliance to absurdity marks every team Plying under the guise of social harmony
Trumping spirits free Driving all mankind Cloaked in Scientism’s Feigned Divine
“Collectivisation means the handling of the common affairs of mankind by a common control responsible to the whole community. It means the suppression of go-as-you-please in social and economic affairs just as much as in international affairs. It means the frank abolition of profit-seeking and of every device by which human beings contrive to be parasitic on their fellow man. It is the practical realisation of the brotherhood of man through a common control”. If Wells’ outlines look similar to those ideas recently made public by the World Economic Forum’s Great Reset, then don’t be surprised.
Some of us are compelled by learning and therefore find ourselves comfortable in lifetime roles as teacher and student in tandem.
I left formal education with a Master’s degree in order to become a teacher, which I did do, for two decades. I’d probably still be teaching, but I became too disgusted by the system to continue in it. First, I witnessed as students became little more than commodities and teaching became not about learning, but about customer service. That was higher education, but once testing became the anchor of achievement in high school education, it’s the same thing in a different mask.
I used to encourage my students to challenge me, to “talk back” because I saw that was a serious lack in my own upbringing and education and vowed not to pay it forward. Students found me challenging, but fair, and I took that as the highest compliment that can be awarded to a teacher.
As the curriculum noose continued to tighten around our necks I watched as 99% of my colleagues went with the new and ever-tightening program for a few more years. Then I gave up. The system had sucked out everything I’d loved about teaching and was actively trying to turn me, and my students, into automatons, robots. When I lost the joy in it I was no longer good at it.
It was a blow to my ego and our bank account, but I knew I’d made the right choice for my soul. It’s been a few years now and surprisingly to myself, I don’t miss it. I embraced the student role fully again—on all things homesteading and conspiracy theory. An odd match, one might think, but to me it makes perfect sense.
Conspiracy theory is the study of power, that’s it in a nutshell. It’s not nearly as scary as the mainstream news, social engineers and politicians make it out to be. I was forced out of education for my own lack of power—it seems obvious to me then to restore my individual power I needed to understand much more about how power functions. I’ve been blown away by my own ignorance on that front.
To seriously study conspiracy theory one needs a firm grasp on two fundamental topics: psychology and social engineering. The essential sub-groups stem from there: history, religion, spirituality, politics, philosophy, linguistics, folklore, and more.
Like with homesteading, there’s FAR more to learn than can be done in a single lifetime or by a single individual. And for that, I find them both absolutely enthralling and a perfect marriage—the essentials of the practical and the esoteric bound together forever.
I know there will come a time I move once more from the student role to the teacher role in these endeavors. That time is not in my near future. I’m waiting for something, or someone, but I can’t tell you for what, or for whom.
But with leaving my formal, former student/teacher career came the most valuable lesson of my life, which I see now is becoming increasingly pertinent for loads of folks: When to walk away. Like the old song goes: “You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em . . . .“
For anyone truly dedicated to their roles, this is going to be seriously challenging. You’re going to create a huge, empty space in your life that you’ll then have to guard like a bulldog so that chicanery and nonsense are not then sucked into the gap.
Discernment will become your best friend. Attempts to manipulate your re-emerging Self with group-think or calls to obedience will become intolerable. You will lose friends at a rapid clip.
But you will become an expert student and the expert student needs to know only one thing: When to walk away.
I haven’t (quite) yet exhausted my efforts to save y’all from yourselves. This is a warning and a threat. After the call comes the cull, no one can save you then.
This post will be riddled with cliches, for your own good. That line in the sand, you need to draw it, now. You see, the mask nonsense, that’s the equivalent of a cult initiation ritual. The thermometer gun aimed at the center of your forehead, that’s symbolic too. And the social distancing, 6 feet, you think that number is based on ‘germ theory’, really?
Think I’ve just scribbled a bunch of conspiracy crazy? You might be right. No need to check behind that curtain. Instead, you could consider any number of other potentialities.
How about these: Do you really want to be that guy? Do you worship Authority so much you’d have someone arrested for not wearing a face diaper? Do you covet your paycheck and pension so much you’d be willing to do whatever your boss demanded of you?
Because once you give the devil your finger I seriously doubt you’ll get it back. Remember Humpty Dumpty?
“Somehow, the culture that I live in has come to be characterized by an outright disdain for independent thought. Public debate has been largely reduced to the pitting of competing authority figures against each other, and the capacity of most people to engage in reasoned argument begins and ends with an appeal to those authorities. Only a very few seem able to engage directly with information themselves, and those few are largely ignored.We have arrived at a point in history where the intellectual norm is now to abandon one’s own capacity for reason and to put in its place a collection of authority figures and institutions. Or rather, authority itself.”
Which do you think is a better example to set for your children and grand children: Not questioning authority is a virtue, or, proper questioning of all orders engenders a capacity of discernment? Because those two are mutually exclusive.
Collaborators come in all shapes, sizes and degrees. Feigning ignorance, or innocence, will not save you. It’s one of the most direct and simple choices you will ever make, don’t make it more complicated and confusing than it is. There are two camps, and you must choose one—Tyranny Vs Freedom.
Are you a nurse, or teacher, or officer who would force-vaccinate someone without researching beyond the mainstream consensus narrative?
“If these claims are accurate we can state that there is no evidence of a pandemic, merely the illusion of one. We have suffered incalculable loss for no evident reason, other than the ambitions of unscrupulous despots who wish to transform the global economy and our society to suit their purposes.” COVID19–Evidence of Global Fraud
I can only lead a horse to water. Collaborators be warned. If you’re standing around the pond too afraid to drink, I will have no choice but to let you stand there, wasting away, until the bitter end.
Most of our cyber-only friends don’t know this, because we’ve been keeping it secret for security’s sake, but for the last nearly decade we’ve been establishing our wee homestead, I’ve been doing it alone for half the month.
I’ve wanted many times to talk about how hard this has been on this blog where I’ve shared so very many of our ups and downs, bad moods, worse ideas, unpopular philosophies and big defeats sporadically dotted with a few triumphs.
It’s been not only lonely and isolating, but also on more than a few occasions, terrifying, like when the tornado came through in the middle of the night, or the many times I’ve had to manage alone tasks like lambing—including their challenging life and death complications—all of which I have absolutely no previous experience with—having been raised in the burbs. We started with nothing, now we’ve got garden, orchard, dogs—started with chickens and now have poultry, sheep, goats, pigs. When I injured my shoulder about two years ago I was really at my wit’s end.
Of course, it was no picnic for Hubby either. He was offshore in the Gulf of Mexico, on platforms with all dudes, working long days far from home for weeks at a time for all those years. Then he’d come home and scarcely rest before diving in to the book-long homesteading to-do list and climbing learning curve after learning curve. He spent his vacations building coops and corrals and many acres worth of fencing.
Of course as well, he worried about me here alone, especially in the beginning. My learning to shoot gave him a bit of a respite, but considering I suck at it as well as abhor doing it leveled that relief mostly.
We stopped taking vacations, have almost no social life, rarely buy new anything. We both equally dreaded the inevitable moment one of our 4 big dogs died of old age or had a fatal accident while I was here alone. We lucked out there.
The physical challenges were hard enough, but the emotional ones have been exceptionally challenging for me.
Sundays off became a forced ritual after the first few years, a much needed one we’ve become reliant upon now in order to remind ourselves weekly that ultimately we came here for a better quality of life, not to recreate city-like schedules in the country and killing ourselves for some potentially unattainable goal.
So, after all that backstory, I’m beyond thrilled to announce a new chapter for us, one of those blessings in disguise that I hinted about a few posts ago . . . Hubby’s been laid off!
We’ve rebranded it as early retirement and have already celebrated with champagne and verses of “For he’s a jolly good fellow!”
For he truly is—jolly good and my Great Hero—we’ve no idea what’s in store for us yet and that’s a fun place for us to be again.
Had we not been preparing for this potential outcome our disposition would be very different. And with this post I don’t want in any way to diminish the hardships of the very many families who’ve lost their income in this Plandemic, or those who surely still will.
We’ve been living low on the hog, as the saying goes. It’s been a lot of little sacrifices that are now paying off in peace of mind and time to reflect, rejoice and redesign.
We are not self-sustaining still, maybe we will never be, but we still hold out hopes and intentions toward that goal.
Thanks to the readers out there who’ve stuck with me during my foul tempers, moody rants—now you know mostly their underlying triggers and you can expect more positivity in future.