I got my 30 day chip and then relapsed. I was nervous about telling Handy Hubby. I couldn’t decide if it was better to admit it immediately, or to wait until he was home from work. In person, that’s better, right?
Or, was I just stalling.
August, my annual month of failures. I was doing so good; I was so confident. Then BAM, it’s always the same, from white to black in an instant. What is this mysterious pull we call addiction? It’s more powerful than the will of the most powerful around us. In my circle of fellow addicts not even a one commented they’d noticed I’d been away, so absorbed are these friends in addictions of their own.
I was on the wagon, as they say. Or is it off the wagon? I can never remember. It felt good, really good. I didn’t want it anymore, I could see through its tempting illusions, the anxiety and regret and guilt had vanished. I was above it, looking down on my previous weaknesses as a queen might a pauper. Over-confidence, perhaps. Maybe I should’ve gone to a meeting.
Is there a Fakebooks Anonymous? In fact, a whole Escape Social Media extended program for abusers (preferably in Hawaii)?
I see acute and chronic symptoms in folks all around me, yet few of us even try to escape it even knowing it’s being monitored and manipulated by the CIA, the NSA and who knows who in the world else. The evidence and confessions cannot be ignored, the cognitive dissonance cannot continue to control us all forever.
I wanted to find someone, that’s what did it, my relapse. How sad is that? I had no other way to find this person except through FB. This is unhealthy dependence, a solution that creates another problem, quite a few more in fact.
But I found our sweet pups there!
I have 300+ “friends” there!
How will I know what’s happening with the half dozen actually friends who post there? Don’t I learn what’s going on in the world there?
Every new person I meet wants to connect on FB; it’s one of the first questions now between strangers who want to stay in touch. Are you on FB?
Can I say ‘no’? It seems almost . . . impolite. Not to mention, a bit suspicious. Who’s not on FB these days? Might he be a criminal? Who is she hiding from?
Whether on the wagon or off it, round and round I go.
Maybe I need some FB methadone. Like, to go to back to my favorite old comfort zones: Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Charlie’s Angels.
“Fakebook,” Handy Hubby calls it. Of course he’s right, I’ve long known he’s right. I left Fakebook years ago, then went back, against my better judgment. It has become to me one more insufferable Catch-22 of the modern age.
I’ve met a few good folks there and it was the source in finding our new livestock guard dog pups, who are so precious it’s a real challenge not to spoil them!
It is a good tool for keeping in touch, no doubt. I’ve also appreciated how it’s like the modern equivalent of scrapbooking in some fundamental ways. They keep better track of our photos than I do. They record it all. And therein lies the Catch 22.
Fakebook has tipped in scales to more negative than positive, not just for me, I see folks leaving it and considering leaving it and I can’t blame them, in fact, I’ve again just rejoined the leavers, and this time, I’m never going back.
Oh my, I just felt a twang of panic in my gut. Never? Did I really mean that? That’s so very . . . permanent.
I know it’s wrong! I know they are spying, manipulating, engineering, censoring, and if that weren’t bad enough, the ads are over the top. I just can’t stand it. In fact, I find I’m turning to books, real books printed on real paper, just to be able to find a recipe without eight ads and pop-ups attached.
And I know very well it’s not just about the advertising, that’s just the surface level annoyance and distraction. It is about Big Data, which I’ve written about several times already, but for those still uninformed, some background material.
If I am to align my life with my principles, as I’ve sworn to do, I cannot support this level of technocracy. Next will be the Smart phones, out of our lives! We do just fine without satellite TV already. We will vehemently reject all 5G roll-out “Smart” crap that we possibly can.
We will get better at it, these things take considerable time and effort. We are gradually becoming more refined in making due with the old ways, and isn’t it ironic. I jumped on-board with educational technology as a grad student, made it my thing, taught online courses since the first years that was possible.
And now I look and shiver as at a golem. Oh my stars, what have we created?
I must take a deep bow to those who saw it decades before I did, the ones I once considered practically prehistoric. The ‘old folk’ who were so afraid of technology, so concerned about privacy. The paranoid ones who suspected, no, even had valid proof, that the government could not be trusted with this information power house.
We are in the process collectively of accepting enslavement to the grid. If you still believe the powers-that-be are benevolent, that once was me. I can’t say all that it was that blinded me then, I was seeing it and reading it, but it wasn’t yet REAL.
I’m reminded of famous words that made a decent impression on me so long ago I can’t recall, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. “Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members. Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.”
We, Kensho, have been learning about self-reliance. It’s more work and more responsibility than I’d known before, certainly much more physical labor. Many sacrifices have been made by us both. We stopped traveling. Our social and political priorities have shifted. Our values and worldview and tolerance levels have become much more refined. Our skill-sets have increased ten-fold. One of these days I’ll make a list.
But this post is about Fakebook. What it offers is not worth what it takes away. In its absence I’ve started reading fiction again. I’ve also decided to take up sewing, which surprises me about my own self as much as when I took up cheesemaking, my now favorite hobby by far and one I’m getting pretty good at.
Fakebook is a time-sucking, energy-wasting, spell-casting, manipulating, ad-pushing pain in the ass. I’m done.
“It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
Living is easy, with eyes closed. Misunderstanding all you see.
Always, no sometimes, think it’s me.
But you know when it’s a dream.
I think I know it means a “Yes” but it’s all wrong.
That is I think I disagree.
Married to illusion. What sort of glam-golem are we-they creating?
You get to see the pretty pictures. But not the shit, literal shoveling shit, that went in to creating them. A Walt Disney dream. For every success, a dozen failures you don’t see. I don’t talk about.
This is what I really think, after many months of research into Geoengineering.
We are all now ruled by the cartoonish mentality of the technocracy. They are trying to force upon us a reality based on illusion.
I want to thank the following folk for their work, which has helped me tremendously to navigate this fool’s path. This particular journey may be over, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to move on too far.
Sabotage is a word that immediately makes me think of a song, which makes me remember a person.
I wish this were not the case, because the song is rather awful, though I liked it in my youth. The person is the one who introduced me to the song, my first real love relationship as a quasi-adult, accompanied by the typical bittersweet accoutrements those loves tend to take.
We were too young to think seriously of marriage, or seriously about much of anything. It was sex, drugs and rock and roll, seasoned with a bit of university study. The song is by Beastie Boys. I danced at frat parties, singing along between beer bongs and hits off the pipe, to some of the most offensive and vulgar lyrics imaginable.
My imagination was obviously not too developed yet, as those early rap songs were Shirley Temple’s ‘Good Ship Lollipop’ compared to what was being sung a decade later. And now? It sounds as if the bar has been so lowered as to no longer be visible by human perception.
Here I’ve been harping on for months about fake and fraudulent science and the disaster in the making that is Geoengineering, and dreading this particular post, #20. This path of the fool is nearly over, I haven’t the stamina to begin another one too soon, which means I must get these last two right.
I have not judged myself too harshly, for those extended years of parties and travel and romance. I grew out of it, eventually, as did he. Some were not so lucky, and died instead. For me it was relatively harmless, I was a foolish party girl for a while, and I expect I’d choose it again in that age, though I’d never choose a redo now.
Are you kidding me? No way! Have you looked at what’s going on these days?! It’s not about kind buds and ecstasy, it’s heroin! It’s round-the-clock pharmaceuticals. It’s multi-generational drug abusers who make Grandma’s daily dry martinis seem like teatime at the Waldorf.
There is no real making sense of any of it rationally, until you understand sabotage. Sabotage I’d first heard said, comes from the word ‘sabot’– a wooden clog–which is rumored to have been a way French anarchists would slyly disturb the status quo, apparently by using their shoe as a proverbial monkey wrench to the machine.
What our world is experiencing now is layer upon layer of sabotage. Like the 100th monkey, the game catches on, it begins to accelerate exponentially, more folks get sucked into playing, some get very good at it. Some of the saboteurs get so good at the game, they forget their role is as saboteurs. They think they are heroes. They hold the loftiest roles in the game. They BELIEVE! They are proud! They helped to lower the bar and so they are good.
‘We are all in this together,’ they chant! The answer is LOVE!
The answer, so they say, resides in one of the most nebulous terms on the planet. We should know what love is; it should mean the same to everyone around the globe, we should spread that knowing and embrace whatever comes as a result, because unconditional love is contagious and we will all be one big happy human family.
We’ll just have to lower the bar a little bit more, because debauchery, vulgarity, lechery, sloth, addiction, those words are all so judgey and we can’t have hate speech! We can have songs full of debased and abusive lingo, we can sing along to them, but to question what we’re singing is too critical and hateful for normal conversation. Just pretend you are still 22 and a silly party girl, forever.
Nothing is worth fighting for. It’s just the grand chessboard. Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose. Sing along. Repeat after me. Everything’s fine. You’re getting sleepy. Nothing to worry about. Surrender gently . . that’s right . . . it’s just the age settling in. Just stay calm, we’re almost there.
One wee tug on a thread and the entire cloth begins to unravel. Pandora’s Box also comes to mind.
I’ve been on this trip for a while already, long before I started this fool’s journey to try to get some clarity on the science of geoengineering. What I found initially was more fraud, psy-ops and disinformation than anyone not entirely committed to a cause would ever have the time or motivation to sift through. Not only that, but to dig in just a little means to become overwhelmed by an entire slurry of misdirection, some calculated, some innocent, I’m sure. Flat earth theory, many thousands of personal stories on vaccine injuries, 101 theories on chemtrails, secret societies, sex trafficking, pedophilia . . . I don’t recall signing up for all of that.
And the plain truth of it is, I don’t even want to be here. I want to be working in the garden, or with Hubby and the critters, or watching the birds at the feeder while swinging in the hammock. The farmish chores are about to get much more consuming with goats, sheep and puppies to arrive before the month’s end.
But I cannot turn away from the geoengineering criticism, and all that seems to come with it, because it’s in my face, all the time. It would be like turning a deaf ear to a baby screaming at my doorstep.
This “chem-spray” did not come from a plane, or it came from a plane with dissipating contrails and then was afterward steered in this pattern, which you must look quite closely to see, but which was easily visible to the sharp eye.
I don’t want to hear the name of some new cloud some nitwit at NASA has “invented.” I want to know what it IS. Don’t tell me it’s “normal”, don’t tell me this has always existed I just never noticed it before, and certainly don’t tell me it’s a sign of the end of times.
Air pollution? OK, but from what? Weather modification, now we are getting warmer. At least we are in the category of the believable.
Once you witness first-hand the chicanery to which so many are capable of and complicit in, it becomes difficult to trust the intentions of anyone outside one’s own inner circle. This was a story I heard repeatedly while living in the Czech Republic when speaking to anyone from the generations of the Soviet occupation. In some ways it back-fired, they’d say, because folks inner circles got pretty tight, forming a pretty strong chain across the communities, that were eventually strong enough to lift the veil of corruption and propaganda they were living under.
We were no different then than we are now, this U.S. We’ve just been better at crafting and keeping the illusory veil firmly in place.
Don’t worry. Don’t fear. Once that illusion shatters for you, dance, don’t run. Follow the moon shadow, reach out, reach in, but reach, just reach, I promise you will find someone there for you. But just in case you don’t, reach for me.
We have been lied to, not just for decades, since quite possibly the dawn of civilization and before. And it was so very easy.
Are these just more characters in the eternal charade? I couldn’t possibly know with certainty. I can say, I hear a ring of truth.
When I set out on this ‘path of the fool’ most readers would probably not recognize I was referring to the Tarot cards. Each post number in this series has corresponded to the number of the Major Arcana from which that post was inspired. The last one was 13, that’s Death, before that, 12, the Hanged Man, number 11 was Justice, and so on.
14 is Temperance, one of most favorites. I have a map, you see. It may not be a good map, it is terribly old after all, and I may not be such a good map-reader, but I find it’s better than nothing. That means with this map we go to 21. I hope a few of y’all can bear with me that long.
If nothing else, even a bad map can help at least to name something. What is the very first thing we are driven intellectually to do? We name it. This goes as much for the name of the birds to the notes they sing. Material things, concepts, countries, emotions, principles, processes, everything, we are name-making creatures before we are meaning-making creatures.
It’s just like with my “gravity-free icicles” photo that had me in such a head-spin. Until I had the name for it–ice stalagmites–I had hardly a clue how to move forward, how to begin to understand the phenomena behind their formation. Just learning the name felt like a little triumph. (Thank you, Yamakawa!) I may never fully understand it or see its likes again in my lifetime, but at least I can refer to it by name.
There is an immense amount of power in naming something. It’s why tyrannical types rename the streets and cities of the regions they conquer. Scientists and explorers immediately lay claim to their discoveries by naming them. The weathermen and weather manipulators name storms and systems and in doing so give them an air of normalcy. Everything seems more normal, more credible, more acceptable once you can name it.
Positive psychology is such a name, invented to explain and explore constructs of our modern age. Simple-sounding and reassuring, it is in fact the rails guiding this speeding train right over the cliff’s edge.
Did it start with the hippies of the 60s? I can’t say, but there’s plenty of folks who noticed it a long time ago, like Barbara Ehrenreich. In her book Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America she names the culprits quite clearly.
“Those who set themselves up as instructors in the discipline of positive thinking—coaches, preachers, and gurus of various sorts—have described this effort with terms like ‘self-hypnosis,’ ‘mind control,’ and ‘thought control.’ In other words, it requires deliberate self-deception, including a constant effort to repress or block out unpleasant possibilities and ‘negative’ thoughts.”
The tolerance pushers and cult of positivity types would rather bury their heads in the sand than ever admit anything is wrong in the world or with themselves.
They act like this is something new, with their new age credos of ‘love conquers all’ and ‘fake it till you make it.’ Those who point out evil are as evil as evil itself in their twisted candy land. They have adapted what Ehrenreich calls a “reflexive capacity for dismissing disturbing news” They don’t recognize their convenient beliefs are cowardly, because in them they are supremely self-righteous.
“You’ll never change anything without a positive attitude!” they chant. Really? So I guess Hitler, Stalin, Lenin and lots of others must have been remarkably positive people, because they changed loads of things.
In their lily-livered lust for “peace” they’d happily turn everyone into slaves. I know far too many of these folks, considering how annoying I find them. They whine that those in the ‘alt-right’ are Nazi hate mongers in the same breathe that they praise the usurpers of Western civilization. They mistake their pity for compassion, their immaturity for innocence and their gullibility for adaptability. I do not particularly like the alt-right, but I’d side with them in a heartbeat over these so-called progressive nitwits constantly harping on the importance of being ‘heart-centered’ and ‘vulnerable.’ These are certainly lovely sentiments, the world could certainly use more of them, but before we can start spreading the juicy love bombs of permanent global abundance in blissful Utopia, we must first have a reality check.
Reality check: How can you best mask your own lack of ability and capacity to fight for anything? Preach that fighting is beneath you.
We are not Bonobos. No amount of social engineering or genetic tampering will change that, though the string-pullers are still trying their damndest. Those who are begging for a one-season world are attempting to live life in complete contradiction with nature. They can “think positively” and like magic the cancer becomes a beautiful life lesson, the child abuse too. Every human misery is reduced to a “growth opportunity,” and “character builder.” “It’s the only way to get any traction,” they claim, therefore minimizing true victimhood and excusing by default every perpetrator and predator.
What these folks really want is an excuse to bypass reality and someone to take care of them, cradle to grave. And they need to believe that care-taker is benevolent beyond all reason. They want to feel free to fully express their vulnerabilities, even to an enemy. They don’t want to have to face their own dark side, let alone the dark side of the most evil among us. Because they cannot fight their own battles they preach that no battle is worthy of a fight. Should one dare to point out to these folks that their perpetual clinging to ‘Christ consciousness’ is a pre-programmed master/slave directive dished out by the greatest tyrants in history, as I have done, be prepared for a deer in the headlights stare followed by more coos of moronic, placating nonsense.
Reality check: How might you ensure your own extinction? Keep turning the other cheek. Surrender to the collective. Keep empowering the tyrants. Extol the virtues of selflessness and compassion at all costs. Forget authenticity, forget mental and physical fortitude, go for the pharmaceuticals instead.
From the stoners, whose favorite expression is “It’s all good!” to the charlatans who earn their money telling the gullible, the confused, the traumatized and the down-trodden exactly what they want to hear and call this mercy and compassion, to those constantly virtue signaling and endlessly boasting and victim-claiming on social media, y’all need a swift reality check.
Ehrenreich again, “The truly self-confident, or those who have in some way made their peace with the world and their destiny within it do not need to expend effort censoring or otherwise controlling their thoughts.”
This week’s breadcrumbs:
Amish farmer faces Federal trial for mislabeling his homemade product.
Science fraud and fantasy, the topic of 10 previous posts, is just another symptom of a much deeper problem. I’m inclined to write that it seems some folks just think too much, and play to little, but then one only has to turn on the TV to find the contradiction.
Every once in a while someone will mistake me for a socialist and this boggles my mind. I think their assumption comes from the fact that I’m rather vocal about my concern for the environment. Such concerns are considered “leftist” though why this is the case I’ve hardly a clue. By what error of linguistics does “conservative” mean one who cares not about conserving? When did the word “progressive” come to mean progress ourselves into imprisonment?
These labels are not only contradictory, they are ludicrous and becoming more so by the day. I can clearly see it furthers the typical ‘divide and conquer’ tactics.
The story seems to go back to that same black and white thinking I keep complaning about. Either I am for the unadulterated slaughter and pillage of nature, or I am for Agenda 2030, apparently. This seems a result of sport’s-minded group think, because the group’s need for cohesion trumps the nuances of the individual’s critical thinking.
These days this has been taken to the pinacle—if it can’t be tweeted, it won’t get heard. Every time I hear a newscaster talk about the latest tweets of Hollywood celebrities or politicians, I get a ping-pong pang deep inside that is represented in the mystifying gulf between little girl giggling and disgusted matron moaning.
At these times I thank the stars I’m far from alone in these feelings.
I also find comfort in the knowing that there are laws that govern far and above the laws of man. Believe it or not, this does not mean I believe in God. Any more than that last sentence means I’m an atheist. Collectivist social engineering has fostered the evolution of the ‘each in his category’ syndrome of precisely crafted personas and acceptable archetypes with a palpable paranoia for those who don’t fit or stay in their teeny tiny boxes.
I may not know much at all about science or politics, but I do know government is never the solution to any problem. Government is in the control business. Their role may work fine to control a problem, for a while anyway, but the government cannot solve it. Individuals solve problems, sometimes groups of individuals, and then the government takes ownership of those solutions and uses it to further their own growth and power.
Head of the organization Riverkeeper and slated to lead a commission on vaccine safety, Robert F. Kennedy argues: “What polluters do is escape the discipline of the free market. You show me a polluter, I’ll show you a subsidy — a fat cat who’s using political clout to escape the discipline of the free market.”
What happens now when individuals form groups in order to have the power to fight the fat cats? In our Corporatocracy they will quickly learn all the fat cats are slurping from the same bowl. There have been some valiant efforts over the last decade. The great global fervor against GMOs comes first to mind, but there are many more each accomplishing so little while fighting so hard that the average Walmart shopper still does not know what this acronym means and stands in line at Walgreens every year to get their subsidized flu shots.
But I have faith that nature finds a way to balance herself, even against all odds and the individual is a microcosm of nature. The individual will only allow himself to be swallowed up by the group for so long before rebelion is inevitable. We are no where near that point yet, in my opinion, but the road has been paved, and those who tend toward lesser resistance are bound to follow it eventually.
Jon Rappoport: “Holding high-level criminals accountable doesn’t have to equal being swallowed up by socialism. It’s actually a step on the road to restoring the root meaning of capitalism—absent the cronies and their deals and payoffs and subversions and perversions.”
Someday the contradictions of our times will be written and rewritten, interpreted and reinterpreted. Our progeny, even those simple Walmart shoppers, will realize how beautifully nuanced is the expression, ‘All roads lead to Rome.’