I like Caitlin, for the most part, and rarely divest energy into pushing back against those who seem to me to be on the same page as far as ending the global Military Industrial Complex (along with the Pharmaceutical Industrial Complex, Food Industrial Complex and, so on) and in general seems to stand for the liberty and good of the common man.
But I really welcome those moments where I can Individuate from the cracks of the Progressive collectivist push, and here is such a one. So, thank you in advance, Caitlin.
“Defending the most powerful is always the wrong position. Defending cops from the people. The rich from the poor. The US empire from weaker powers. White people from the causes of people of color. Men from feminism. Israel from Palestinians. You’re just helping to create a more unjust and imbalanced world.” Caitlin Johnstone
WOW! The delusions here just smack me right in the face! So, who is right doesn’t matter. Justice doesn’t matter. Poor, disenfranchised, weak, that’s all that matters. What matters, whether wrong or right, Is ONLY that the strong don’t win.
Since when did ‘unjust’ come to mean ‘not sanctioned by the masses’? Since when did ‘imbalanced’ come to mean ‘cops, white people, men, and Israel are ALWAYS wrong’ just because they are stronger?
What happened to discernment? Why is everyone a member of a group before they are treated as individual cases?
If defending the most powerful is ALWAYS the wrong position, are we to assume the weakest ALWAYS know best?
What happens then when you are among the strongest yourself, Caitlin? I guess we must assume you will then always be wrong, unless you are standing for those weakest links, who will always be right.
I welcome you to a very fun Adulthood, in that case, and look forward to hearing how awesome it is for you to forever bow to the weakest links, no matter whether right or wrong, just because they are so pitiful in their weakness. No strong man is ever right or good, unless they are taking a knee to the consensus trance.
And the weakest in their collective consensus trance is always right and Hitler was also American, because everything evil originated from here, and remains the sole global scourge, obviously. As long as we are promoting weakness, it’s all good.
In its typical, now routine, fashion ‘science’ comes to save the day and leads everyone astray.
Once upon a time they desperately wanted us to fear cannabis, so they fudged some data to make it look like not only is marijuana a ‘gateway drug’ but it will kill all your brain cells and transform you into a moronic, lethargic two-ton-Tessy with crossed eyes.
Sassafras, that most delicious natural ingredient that used to make up root beer and was enjoyed by our ancestors for centuries—science data decided it’s a carcinogen and it gets stripped from the marketplace for half a century. Then the data decides, oops, nevermind. Then they decide it makes an awesome illegal street drug known by “Ecstasy” aficionados as “Sass” and it’s then highly processed active ingredients are exploited by twisted chemists and greedy marketers and pushed on curious kids around the world. Thanks, again, Science!
So, forgive me when I heard for the first time the panicked cries about the poisonous pokeweed I had to roll my eyes a little. I heard repeated the usual crazy as I tried to research it myself—the ranchers trying in vain to eradicate it permanently before it kills all their cattle; the dying children whose dumbass parents didn’t perform the proper ceremonial procedures before consuming; the dead chickens who consumed the poisoned berries, etc. All nonsense. We’ve never had a chicken or any other animal fall ill from this ubiquitous ‘weed’. The four-legged show no interest in it and the birds, wild and domesticated, love the berries at the end of summer when little else is available for them.
And, it is the most delicious green I’ve ever tasted, no exaggeration.
I’m not alone in my palate preferences.
“For many, getting a springtime poke-sallet fix was indeed a psychological if not necessarily a medicinal shot in the arm. Azzie Waters remembered a saying by ‘old Doc McClain’ of Marble Hill, Georgia, who declared that ‘if you’ll eat one good mess of poke sallet in the spring of the year, you won’t have typhoid fever.” (Smokehouse Ham, Spoon Bread, & Scuppernong Wine: The Folklore and Art of Southern Appalachian Cooking by Joseph E. Dabney, p. 263)
It’s simply miraculous our ancestors managed to survive at all before the Great Age of Scientism came to our collective rescue! Though I do suspect back in the day folks knew better where to draw that very fuzzy line between science and politics. Yet more crucial life skills lost to Progress.
As for the ‘proper ceremonial procedures’ I’m referring to the often repeated ‘requirements’ of fully boiling the greens three times, rinsing them and changing the water each time before consuming. I tried this, wanting to give these nincompoops the benefit of the doubt, knowing full well this had to be overkill. Simple logic told me there’s no way mountain folk would waste that much time and resources, hauling huge pots of water, burning all that fuel, and still consider these greens such a great Spring treasure. My hunch was correct, considering the mess of greens that resulted was the equivalent of green soup with hardly a solid piece of green remaining. Clearly that’s not what all the Southern old-timers rave about.
A bit more research and I’d bet only one parboiling is necessary. But, I’ve been giving it two, just to be on the safe, but still delicious, side. From there it can be used just like spinach and the taste is far better. Traditionally it was popular to fry it in bacon grease or coat it in cornmeal and deep fry it like okra.
Tonight we’ll be enjoying it smothered in homemade Mexican queso. Mmmmm. 🙂
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.“
Some things are better small, even in Texas. Small markets, small steps, small farms, small solutions.
Get big or get out! That was the slogan of the last century that surely haunts loads of old farmers to this day.
“Many who got big to stay in are now being driven out by those who got bigger. The aim of bigness implies not one aim that is not socially and culturally destructive.” The Unsettling of America: Culture & Agriculture by Wendell Berry (1977)
“We have always had to have ‘a good reason’ for doing away with small operators, and in modern times the good reason has often been sanitation, for which there is apparently no small or cheap technology. Future historians will no doubt remark upon the inevitable association, with us, between sanitation and filthy lucre. And it is one of the miracles of science and hygiene that the germs that used to be in our food have been replaced by poisons.”
That book was written when I wasn’t yet 10 years old. And it’s only gotten worse.
I ask myself regularly how this is possible. Now it’s not just small farmers, the attacks are against small business, in general.
But, then as now, the attacks are primarily psychological. Folks are lured by promises from thieves and liars, and that’s the better part of the story. Other times, and certainly increasing in our more modern times, they are lead senselessly, through fear and desperation, because they have medical bills, or student loans, or mortgage payments in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, and they see no other way to go on but to sell their souls to the State.
And yet, the seeds of the solutions have always been lying dormant all around us, waiting for our nurturing care and attention.
“Just stop building it.” Catherine Austin Fitts
“Just move to a smaller community.” Curtis Stone
Homesteading – #SolutionsWatch : The Corbett Report
“Just try it, you never know, you might like it!” me 🙂
“A culture is not a collection of relics or ornaments, but a practical necessity, and its corruption invokes calamity. A healthy culture is a communal order of memory, insight, value, work, conviviality, reverence, aspiration. It reveals the human necessities and the human limits. It clarifies our inescapable bonds to the earth and to each other. It assures that the necessary restraints are observed, that the necessary work is done, and that it is done well. A healthy farm culture can be based only upon familiarity and can grow only among a people soundly established upon the land it nourishes and safeguards a human intelligence of the earth that no amount of technology can satisfactorily replace. The growth of such a culture was once a strong possibility in the farm communities of this country. We now have only the sad remanant of those communities. If we allow another generation to pass without doing what is necessary to enhance and embolden the possibility now perishing with them, we will lose it altogether. And then we will not only invoke calamity — we will deserve it.” WB
I will focus on the positive here, mostly, for the moment, and praise this 65 year old lady with all my might! BRAVO! You are my hero of the week!!
And shame on the cowards in line who don’t support her. And WOW, who raised that pathetic ‘officer of the law’? I’m totally disgusted by every person in this video who participated. And witnessing is participating!
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’.
Relatively speaking, we had an excellent year. I’m not the type to gloat, really. It comes as no surprise to me at all that my experience is pretty much the polar opposite of most folks most of the time. I accepted that ages ago and prefer to think I’m perfecting this ‘gift’ bit by bit, year by year.
Following are some highlights, some whys and hows and so forth, not meaning to boast or give advice, but rather to contrast previous years with my rosy 2020 perspectacles.
I perfected sourdough bread. I’ve been getting failures regularly for years without understanding why and thanks to one farm friend and her new guru, Elaine Boddy, I got the bitch slap needed to learn I was doing it ALL wrong. Not only was I making it infinitely more difficult than it had to be, I had a flabby starter and was creating needless waste. We’ve entered into higher consciousness sourdough on the wee homestead, praise be.
I have also become a Kombucha master. Really, a master. It’s easy to say that for a number of reasons, but especially because so few folks drink it around here, or like it once they try it, that it’s in the realm of ‘acquired tastes’ and only needs to appeal to Hubby, and two nearby friend-aficionados. I’ve been working on signature blends for months, using seasonal herbs and fruits, have Kombucha vinegar in a few flavors and am now aging Kombucha champagne. It’s the funnest thing ever. Or, I’m just a real geek like that.
Of course, no one becomes master without help, and in Kombuchaland, this is Scripture:
Three great gardening successes overshadow the multiple failures—like a second year of sweet potato perils and a fourth year of melon miseries. I leave those to ponder in an upcoming post. For now, it’s Cranberry hibiscus, Blue coco beans and Trombetta squash. I really can’t praise them enough and they were prolific and worry-free and I can’t wait to plant them again in profusion.
But I once said that about the sweet potatoes and the melons, so I’ll shut up now.
Extra-special mention goes of course to the best news of the year, Hubby’s layoff-rebranded early retirement, a somewhat unexpected miracle that has improved my reality already in very unexpected ways. Sometimes the true weight of a burden isn’t fully realized until it’s lifted.
I knew he’d take over most of my animal chores leaving me more time in the garden and the kitchen, where I most prefer to be. And that he’d build more and relax more and check off items on the to-do list at a more satisfying pace. We’ve added two large asparagus beds, coop 3.0 has raised the bar once more in poultry housing, the orchard looks positively professionally and my promised potting shed is in the planning phase finally.
What I had not expected was how good all of that would feel and that it would come so early and that he’d be so glad about it and that we’d be prepared enough for it to not miss the income much in the foreseeable future.
There’s incredible empowerment and peace of mind in preparing, and not just financially. It has gone in a single year from “Prepping” being something we heard mocked for a decade in the mainstream to now feeling like we were choosing wisely all along—not the easy road for sure, but the right road for us and the many others doing likewise.
And with that a wee bit of a boast.
And another. Still, mask-free, with no need or intention to alter that reality or any of the layers horse shit coming down the pipeline with it in future. Have I earned the right yet to say what I really think about these fucking vaccines? Decker, at Dispatches from the Asylum, says it best so far: vials of battery acid.
Just mark me down in your permanent ‘anti-vaxx’ file and if they send the goons to our house, warn them they’ll be given a good ole-fashioned goose chase. (hmm, bravado before breakfast, I must be feeling good!)
Food for thought for the New Year:
“Ignorantly worshiping our own being on the theater of the external world leads to pathological behavior and neurosis. We are ensnared and enslaved to the will of despots in all sorts of guises. We are wide open to irrationality, manipulation, mania and insanity. As parents often work to deliberately undermine our will and identity, the world’s leaders and misleaders use our psychic dissociation to their advantage. In fact, our estrangement from ourselves is the main reason for the rise of all tyranny. However, the deadly predicament ends the moment we heed the inscription at the Oracle of Delphi – “Gnothi Seuton” or Know Thyself. No other instruction is needed on the journey toward enlightenment.”