When Ads Are Awesome

My grandfather, wise man that he was, used to turn down the television at commercials.  I used to love watching the commercials and would plead with him to turn it back up on my favorite ones, like Fruit Loops and Frosted Flakes.  He never did, and would laugh at me and shake his head, surely foreseeing the inevitable decline in culture with the rise of marketing to children.  Or, maybe he just understood how this business really worked, being he was a salesman.

We watch very little TV these days, occasionally the evening propaganda, so we know what the controllers want us to think.  Of course, we always turn it down at the commercials.

Now though, I’m thrilled to see there are ads I’m loving again!  This series cracks me up completely, who doesn’t love satire?!

The governments, it seems, don’t like it one bit.  Which means I love it even more!

 

Hazing is Gaslighting

This comes from my personal experience pledging the sororities at SMSU, Springfield, MO circa 1986.

Part of our plebe requirements after pledging was to memorize the names and birthplaces of all those sisters above us and to recite them, along with details of their preferences, and whatever else they felt should be important to us, for the privilege of belonging to their group consensus. Shortly after winning my entrance, I lost interest completely.

I didn’t last long once ‘Activated’ in Alpha Sigma Alpha, not surprising.  I was sucked in nonetheless for another year in these ritual phases until I refused to perpetuate these abuses onto the new coming plebs, and ultimately perhaps just to record them in my own small way now in the later years of my life.

My ‘big sister’ aka ‘sponsor’ had died in a drunk driving accident during my apprenticeship .  It was this tragedy that gave me mercy among the rest of the disapproving sisterhood.   You see, I’d given the horrid affront of not assuming appropriate position in appropriate hour with appropriate humility, and therefore, I must suffer.  I was grilled like a pale shrimp on the Barbie (bad pun intended).

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It was the candle vigil, dressed in white, yes, it’s really like that, just like you see in the movies.  And I was grilled.  It was ‘fair’ for some, not for others, who stood up for me, and won.  I was relieved.  That’s how Stockholm Syndrome works.  I lived in ‘the house’ as a pleb, and that’s how it works.  Good cops/bad cops.

There is no time-space.  These memories come to me as current, right now, right here.  This is not a blessing. Since the last weather disaster this spring, these memories just come, beyond my reasoning or control.

Just maybe, it’s some sort of karma.  And I’m not afraid anymore.  And I pity those who are still afraid, sometimes very sincerely, sometimes with a sense of sorry superiority that haunts me in the middle of the night.

I do know better now.  I am not that naive girl anymore.  I’ve made choices and braved chasms beyond these putrid machinations.  I’m not proud for that,  I did it mostly of necessity.  But I know, because of it, we will reside in different worlds, and will remain so, for the rest of our short lives.

You needed me to conform.  I get that.  I don’t shame you for it.
But, still, I do resent you for it. Though I’m very sure you couldn’t give a rat’s arse either way.

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The Wisdom to Know the Difference

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Do you have a favorite song?  Did you love it from the first moment, or did it grow on you?

Do you have a favorite hobby?  How did you find it?  Was it passed down to you from a parent or seem to appear from nowhere?

Have you ever doodled, maybe even just randomly while chatting on the phone?  What did you draw? Did you wonder why?

Have you ever pondered what makes your preferences your preferences?

When confronted with your obvious limitations have you ever said, “F*ck off!”?

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When you hear again and again, apparently sold with all the best of intentions the same menu:  You can’t control the weather; You can’t fight the government; You can’t be David against Goliath; You can’t conquer the dragons; You can’t rise above your lot . . . Have you ever said, “Excuse me, why the bloody hell not?!”

Some are most certainly doing it, so why not me?

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You can call that a sense of entitlement if you want.  I call it something else entirely.

 

 

 

When Loyalty Equals Liability

The more you forgive evil, the more it proliferates.  Your silence equals compliance.

There’s no incentive for evil-doers to do right when the contract among the immoral offers a cornucopia of quasi-spiritual nonsense for their deeds including, but not limited to: forgive, turn the other cheek, grin and bear it, be the bigger person, don’t make waves, go along to get along, find the silver lining, suffering builds character, that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, let bygones be bygones, and a fat load of similar crap I heard growing up from my ‘betters’ which I now find extremely cringe-worthy.

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

Read as: repress, dissociate, normalize, self-edit, put head back in sand, become a Prozac-smiling, tyrant-supporting, authority-repeating, happy daughter and compliant citizen.

If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” George Orwell

Stop resisting and the suffering will end, the spiritualists say.  Really? And how’s that been working out for us?  Because the microcosm of the family and the community is a direct reflection to the macrocosm of the institutions and ultimately the entire global political system.

“As I make clear in my book Battlefield America: The War on the American People, we’ll soon have to choose between self-indulgence (the bread-and-circus distractions offered up by the news media, politicians, sports conglomerates, entertainment industry, etc.) and self-preservation in the form of renewed vigilance about threats to our freedoms and active engagement in self-governance.” John Whitehead’s Commentary, The Omnipresent Surveillance State: Orwell’s 1984 Is No Longer Fiction June 10, 2019

For the average citizen endless war has been accepted.  Mandatory vaccines are on the horizon.  World governance looks inevitable.  Weather manipulation goes unchallenged. Smart cities and robot bees and fake foods, and on and on.

We LOVE it ALL! Control us more, PLEASE!

Mark Scheidegger

Take away our very speech! We think it’s super-duper! The sooner we all think alike the better! What on earth are you waiting for?!

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This is welcomed, those who are not going along out of fear, go along out of complacency, cluelessness, or collaboration.

Thus, what we are witnessing, in the so-called name of security and efficiency, is the creation of a new class system comprised of the watched (average Americans such as you and me) and the watchers (government bureaucrats, technicians and private corporations). Clearly, the age of privacy in America is at an end. JW

How did we get here?  Let’s count the ways.  Here’s one:

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The New Age Movement Fraud, Unslaved episode 26

If you don’t lay blame where it is due, you cannot get on with serious work.  Bypass at your peril. Drug or meditate your way to inner-peace so the guilty can remain blameless, and voilà one major reason why we find ourselves right here, right now.

According to Tsarion the New Age movement’s roots were in reaction to the charlatanism of centuries of Christianity and for that they do deserve some cred.  OK, fine.  But, you know these movements by their fruits.  Has the society become better under their guidance?  Are we more caring, more secure, more happy, healthy, connected, united, thanks to these preachings and teachings, because that’s what they keep promising us, and they’ve had plenty of time to prove themselves by now.

Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious.” George Orwell

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Healing Wounds Right

That I knew she was a life-squasher from first glance, no one cares.

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One encounter and I knew I was dealing with a CON at some level.  But how, but where?  It’s just a hunch, I must be wrong.  They always call me wrong.

She was showered with love and swooning in approval.  Not to mention charming beyond all reason.  I should like her anyway, because that’s what we do, in our clan.

Besides, she was all that he wanted, that any man could conceivably want: Beautiful, caring, young, gregarious, doting, etc., etc.

That I talked to her, privately, intimating, questioning her ever so delicately, which I can be just as efficacious at as I can be badgering mercilessly.  No one cares.

There’s consensus, we’ve aligned with it, and if you ask a single unsavory question, you will be met with the total indignation of our collective clan wrath. 

How dare you sense what we can’t see!  We do not agree, missy!

But, wait, what about me?  When I march along I’m blessed, but when I disagree I’m pitied?  I’m castrated?  I’m eye-rolled out of existence? That speaks much more of y’all than it does of me.

You say you love me, care about me, have protected me and yet . . . My senses are routinely dismissed, and completely subjugated under your defenses. 

Do you care how it feels for me, really, to sense these things, to remember these things, while being systematically dismissed by those who say they love and care?

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Don’t rock our boat!  Well, that proves right there you are narcissistic and selfish! And a bully! A bully is rocking our boat of perfect delusions and illusions! STOP HER!

And yet, the truth will set ME free.  I will, at last, be able to force that 300 pound laughing man off my lap, for once, and for all! Once every person in my life who finds this acceptable is OUT, breathe will return to me once again.

The liars will scatter, and even fear.  

Heaven on MY hearth.