Another real-life murderous criminal conspiracy turned into cagey comic Hollywood blockbuster with all that this entails, including, but not limited to: shallow, superficial characters pumped with botox, canned laughter, glamorized crime and ridiculous happy endings. And I haven’t even seen it yet!
But I know something about this story, quite a bit actually. That is, about the real story, that took place in Mena, Arkansas, among other big and small towns in the jurisdiction of the Dixie Mafia. In fact, in ‘conspiracy’ circles it’s a huge, old story. Old as in, decades old, first surfacing around the time just before the Iran-Contra hearings, you know those televised ‘trials’ kind of similar to the OJ Simpson trials only starring Oliver North, where we all witnessed the charade of our justice system live on prime-time. I was a teenager.
I watched about it on TV and in the newspapers for about a decade and in that time my father moved to Mena, AR with my half siblings, and eventually came to marry a local woman and eventually still, to lease space at that airport. I’m not saying they or anyone they know have anything to do with these crimes and coverups, only that for me there was an added interest. I mean, it’s a super small town, about 5,000 people, which I would take as nothing more than odd coincidence and just write it off, expect that I got curious, which led to reactions I did not at all expect.
Over the next few posts I’ll be recounting some of this, as well as providing additional documentation to demonstrate that unlike what is stated in the below New York Times article, this story is most certainly not “based on a true lie.” It’s based on a true conspiracy.
Lemons, Terry and Fullerton, Jane “Perot Called Clinton About Mena Inquiry” ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT-GAZETTE, April 19, 1992 “Bill Clinton to discuss the allegations of cocaine trafficking on behalf of the Contras in Mena.”
Morrison, Micah, “Mena Coverup? Razorback Columbo to Retire,” WALLSTREET JOURNAL May 10, 1995, p. A18 “Recounts the efforts of Arkansas State Policeman Russell Welch to investigate Mena, and the career troubles which ensued.”
Morrison, Micah, “The Mena Coverup” WALLSTREET JOURNAL Oct. 18, 1994 IRS Investigator William Duncan developed documentation proving the monay-laundering of cocaine profits through Arkansas.
Nabbefeld, Joe, “Evidence on Mena-CIA ties to go to Walsh: Airport inclusion in Contra probe urged, ARKANSAS GAZETTE, Sept. 10, 1991 Iran-contra Independent Counsel Lawrence Walsh is given evidence on drug money-laundering involving CIA-Contra activities at Mena.
Norman, Jane, “Arkansas Airstrip Under Investigation” DES MOINES REGISTER, Jan. 26, 1996 pg. 3 House Banking Chairman Jim Leach is investigating Mena.
I have several pages of these articles compiled, as well as some personal anecdotes to share along with them, I do hope you’ll come back to try to gather what might most likely be behind the reality-based fantasy blockbuster starring the legendary Tom Cruise, Scientologist extraordinaire.
I have been fortunate enough to be able to fashion a life that affords me more freedom than the vast majority of the world’s population. While there was a fair degree of luck in this good fortune, there was also a fair degree of sacrifice, and I believe, a dash of ancestral wisdom.
Could it be because my Sir name is Shepard that I now find myself so comforted sitting among the pups and sheep? I’m not saying one has a destiny that could be decoded so simply as through a name, though I do think the clues to our destiny, individually and collectively, are all around us in every moment.
What it takes to see the clues is the very thing The System works to deny us: Unstructured time. The System calls this loafing.
Time to absorb, to reflect, to introspect, to daydream. Time to watch the sheep and the pups.
This is different from what The System does provide in order to replace unstructured time, which is Entertainment. Which, by its nature, is extremely well-structured.
I find the path the thoughts take in unstructured time is intrinsically connected to creativity, which is a joy in its own right and not necessarily a precursor to productivity.
Where my thoughts go, I imagine, are at once beyond time and space and amalgamation of time and space, co-creating the pathways to the Self.
In the Western world today there is loads of criticism directed at the narcissism of the youth. I believe this is primarily a grammatical and perception issue. Just because the younger generation prefers Selfies and the Internet more than old Westerns and glib conversation does not necessarily make them more narcissistic than previous generations.
I think they are searching for paths to Self that are becoming increasingly more difficult to sense as the social structure becomes increasingly hostile to individuality.
Or, maybe the social structures have always been hostile to individuation, and the youth, generation by generation, continue to claw away at that putrefying foundation.
Maybe, on the inside, with every social Selfie they scream, “I will be seen! My presence here will be recorded in time! I will matter!” They just can’t figure out how and why they will matter, because we lost that thread several generations ago.
Could it be they sense that time for them is running out? Could it be an act of desperation to record every moment and connect it somehow with the world at large? Could it be that we, of the older generations, in our criticism of their narcissism is a reflection of our own narcissism? Is it our own non-acceptance of a role that told us when we were children that which I heard so often in my own upbringing: “Children are to be seen and not heard.” Are we subtly sensoring them due to our own unprocessed fear? Are we repeating to them with our criticism, ‘don’t be the tall nail or you’ll get hammered down’? Or my personal favorite: “Don’t be so entitled.”
Who are the black sheep of today’s youth I wonder sometimes as I’m watching the sheep. Maybe that’s where our criticism should be directed. Where have they gone? Have we been so successful as a ‘civilization’ that we have managed to breed out the black sheep?
On becoming my own Authority I’ve realized I have an amazing gift of finding my own teachers when I’m left with my own instincts and unstructured time. This is often thanks to technology, but not always. There is so much knowledge being shared on Youtube that our television hangs nearly useless in the living room most days. I’d bet The System calls most of these at least arrogant, if not narcissistic. How dare they skirt the established hierarchy and create their own channels. How dare they question their social roles, or entice, indeed, provoke me to question mine. The System calls them just another nutter with a podcast. A so-called lone wolf or black sheep.
Here is one such ‘teacher of the week’ for me. I hope his narcissism peaks for many videos to come, because he’s got great gifts to share, just as we all do.
Michael Black was introduced to me by two other powerful teachers at Unslaved.com: Michael Tsarion and David Whitehead
Below in the video The Endgame for the United States, Mr. Black talks about the inevitable MEGACITY of the near future and its myriad challenges according to the Pentagon.
He delves more into that pesky Progress and what it’s doing to the individual and the world. He advises one thing here I am inclined to advise against, which is, leave here if you can.
Defeatism, I suggest, Mr. Black. Don’t undermine us, we just may have the ancestral wisdom and courage to stand and fight. If only we could get the youth to see there’s something here still worth fighting for.
Me 3rd from left with friends in front of the Prague Astronomical Orloy, 1995
I lived for decades at the command of Time, Inc. That’s how I understand it after nearly a decade now adjusting to the rhythm of nature. Before that I’d lived like most others in the post-industrial world with a calendar that was invented not by nature but by men. As a young student bells sent me scurrying from one room to another along with the rest of my peers.
I didn’t like it even then, didn’t understand it, though I was always curious and loved learning. But as I had known nothing else, as a university student I thought it a fantastic improvement to be free to walk from building to building based on my watch, free-range and bell-free.
I thought Time, Inc. was ingenious as it got me on the planes and trains and kept me punctual for my various social roles as a student, a teacher, a patient, a shopper, a volunteer, and the various other obligations of ‘she who is participating.’ The clock got me to the concerts on time.
“Get in the game!” was the advice from all directions. I did sometimes question this word, ‘the game.’ Is that what this is?
I have never been a big player of games; I don’t particularly like them. At one point it occurred to me, so, if this really is a game, I can choose whether or not to play?
So, slowly, little by little, I began to remove myself from the game. Like all games the ones who’ve created the game make the rules. It is only a one who follows the rules who wins the game. You may scoff at this analogy now and say, but there’s so much corruption and crime and it clearly pays, so it’s actually breaking the rules which gets one ahead. If this is what you are thinking, you haven’t yet understood the game. The game is working as it is meant to function.
I figured not only did I not make the rules of the game, I don’t particularly like it and I started to resent all the advice that insisted I continue playing it. Seems logical enough that you can’t win a game if you don’t like playing it. Or, maybe you can, but then you’d be winning just to win and not because you enjoyed playing. Not really my style.
Notice I have now started five paragraphs with “I.” I do this quite deliberately.
“I” is who I know, not you, not we, not them. To know oneself is not to know all men and this is part of the on-going collectivist brainwashing flooding the culture. We are not all one. We are not all in this together. We are not all created equal. In fact, we should, in my opinion, stop striving for equality altogether. It’s not working.
I admit, I was once one who said such things as this on my first website nearly 20 years ago: “Once we have leveled the playing field in education around the globe communication will flourish and then we can call ourselves One World.”
I had drunk the Kool-Aid. I really believed this then. I was too young and optimistic to understand that ‘leveling the field’ meant leveling it to the least common denominator, not the greatest. I did not understand Globalism at all and thought ‘One World’ sounded pretty awesome and fun.
I was a card-caring member of Time, Inc.
I remember one night on the exquisite Old Town Square in the Czech Republic gazing with a large group of tourists many an evening at the famed Prague Orloj, a working astronomical clock 600 years old. It was one of my favorite spots in the city, a city where I was lucky enough to live before the latest great invasion of mass tourism.
I remember what the Charles Bridge looked like at night in winter with only a handful of locals walking over it. Back then there was a free puppet show behind a makeshift stand under the bridge where I sat on the ground with a dozen children listening to them laugh, which was making me laugh. That was 1989. I have photos somewhere in a box that are mostly blurry or dark, sometimes in black and white, because that was the only film I could find there to buy.
Fast forward a decade, then two, and you can barely get over the bridge and it has become a sort of tourist marketplace. That pesky Progress at work again.
I’m not bitter, though I know I sound that way sometimes. I still have my memories, one of the few states which has remained, at least in part, at least for now, beyond Time, Inc.
So it was one night, as I said, on the exquisite Old Town Square gazing with a large group of tourists (not quite this large!) waiting for the Apostles on the clock to do their nightly dance, when an English-speaking drunken youth passes between the clock and the upward gazers, his back to the crowd, raises his arms in worship and slurs at the top of his lungs as it begins to chime on the hour, “Oh my God! Oh my God! OHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!!” Falling to his knees theatrically then, to the astonishment and awkward chuckles and eye rolls from the crowd.
I laughed at the time, mostly at the audacity of it. Now I wonder if that sauced joker realized how genius his move actually was. And how memorable.
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.
THE OA
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.’
“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.
