Finally! This courageous wizard of a man has found a way to get the information about geoengineering/weather modification to flow upstream and downstream with his mountains of material soon to be complied into one enormous website from three separate ones of over a decade of research. He’s one seriously impressive dude!
It all starts with awareness. I hope y’all will check him out, and spread his wealth far and wide.
Or, if you don’t have 30 minutes to spare and share, how ‘bout a song? Do you really want technology controlling our weather?
The geoengineering/weather modification is destroying lives, property and our environment. This is now clear to millions of folks around the world who are getting educated, standing up, and speaking out.
But millions will not be enough to change this course, we have the biggest multinational corporations, governments and militaries around the globe against us, and against the entire web of life.
Like this landowner, who goes by Swamp Boss, we have also been losing trees at an astonishing rate these last several years. This is absolutely not normal by any stretch of the imagination and any landowner paying attention knows this. Our forests are being poisoned.
I try to talk about this with folks—friends, neighbors, family—I even hand out flyers, and I get blank stares and eye rolls for my efforts, and rarely do I get a single question or look of concern. It’s baffling and upsetting and I’m really peeved at the lack of care of those around me. That’s why I spend so much time alone gathering evidence from folks I’ve never met, simply because it’s too painful to not find like-minded individuals, so I seek them out, even if only in cyberspace.
There is plenty of information out there and if more folks don’t take an interest in the actual world around them, the natural world, we don’t stand a chance.
I really wish I knew what the magic formula would be to get folks to look up from their games and fiddlesticks for long enough to realize all our lives and livelihoods are in danger, and we are at war.
Folks need to stop saying, “Calm down!” And start rising up.
What will make folks care? Who do you think your grandchildren are going to blame when they inherit a dead planet, while you eye-rolled yourself back into a zombified stupor bowed before your handheld radiation fondle slab?
Or said, “No problem, calm down, God will solve it.”
Or said, “Technology landed us on the moon and will solve this too, so stop bothering me with your negativity.”
”But look . . ,” you will try to explain at your grandchildren’s accusations of carelessness and irresponsibility . . . “You don’t have food, but you have Facebook! We did that! You’re welcome!”
What kind of trade off have you made on their behalves, and who gave you such a right?
The geoengineered ‘tornado’ this spring has been a big setback for us, but we’re adjusting with a blossoming ‘f**k it’ attitude that will surely see us through the misery of the current hazy-swamp setting per the weather controllers.
The ‘feels like’ temperature promises to remain in the 100s for a few months, no doubt.Most folks around here say that’s normal, but that’s because most folks alive today have been living with modified weather for decades without realizing it. Weathermodificationhistory.com
Since the politicians and select scientists have partnered up to bully the public into buying their global climate change scheme, the few who even notice the atmosphere is different think the technocrats will swoop in and fix it all up again.
The ‘f**k it’ attitude is necessary to maintain sanity currently, but knowing it must be temporary makes it especially bitter-sweet.Downed trees remain a keen reminder still in looking out through any window of the house.
But, I’ve adjusted to them now, labeling them in my mind as satanic yard art.
My shoulder injury persists, Hubby’s working loads of overtime, and there’s plenty to do just in maintaining what we can without tackling a difficult clean-up project just now. Or just about anything else.
As a bonus, the birds love it, we have cardinals nesting, super happy woodpeckers, bouncing bunnies, and the sheep are cooperative enough to take on the garden mess for me.
Since I can’t make cheese or garden or can, I’ve been trying to foster some new hobbies.Learning to paint and sew helps to pass the time, but mostly they are too sedentary for my nature.I’m trying to adjust.
But, it feels like trying, as does reading, which doesn’t fit so well with the ‘f**k it’ mindset. For now we join the masses in their preferred great American pastime of apathy, avoidance and distraction by binge-watching movies with a good buzz on.
The bees are growing fine without my participation, yay! And, I think I heard Mr. Dragonfly volunteer to help me train the young grape vines.
The roses aren’t happy suffering through brambles and grasses, but they’re handling their neglect with grace nonetheless.
But, there should be butterflies all over these zinnias, and that’s cause for concern.
Which then reminds me, it must be cocktail hour. Like Grandma used to say, “It’s 5:00 somewhere!”
Is there a point when Americans will say, “Enough is enough!”?
We’ve long led the world in all things fake, but surely, there is a limit, right?
Fake cheese was already an affront to me as a teenager, as soon as I came back from my first trip to France.I surely sounded snobby in my refusals to any longer group Velveeta and American cheese slices in the same category as real cheese. I’d already drawn my line in the sand back then, but fake foods of all kinds are now more than ever the mainstay of American cuisine.
Fake boobs are still on the increase; fake facial features now the norm;now we even have fake genders.
And as if that weren’t enough to be the last straw, folks have accepted fake weather.
These days are dire indeed.While I’m not particularly hopeful things will improve any time soon, I’m not particularly pessimistic either.As odd as this will probably sound to most, it’s by paying attention to the doom-and-gloomers that I find strength.
These are the folks who see through the spin. These are the folks who care enough to take a stand, who educate themselves and then courageously and relentlessly find any other way they possibly can to educate others.
These are my virtual mentors.
It’s the hordes of rose-colored glasses folks that make me want to scream and rant and throw verbal daggers. It’s these ninnies whose ignorance and apathy inspire such ‘hate speech’ to which they whine and want to make laws to protect themselves further from anyone pricking the bubble of their own delusions!
Sometimes I have to dive very deep into my wellspring of empathy to remember that many folks are dealing with major drama and disease in their lives and for us all we have every aspect of our culture stacked against what is our actual reality.Many, a great many, Americans live more in a virtual reality than in a real one.We are now several generations raised primarily by screens, starting with the TV.
The world of nature is no longer the norm, and this is what most scares me.I have a very difficult time relating to those who, at still this very late stage, are not able to sense any danger in our position as humans at all and are perfectly willing to lay their very lives, and all of ours along with them, directly into the hands of a complete technological takeover of society.
I hate August on the homestead. There, I’ve admitted it. I can’t stand pretending. Sitting at the kitchen table looking at the last of about 250 pounds of pears, I could almost cry.
I’d like to sell it all right now and move to Fiji. I imagine moving permanently into a rented beach hut complete with pool boy serving me colorful fruity cocktails all day. Not processing pears. Not plucking dozens of ducks. Not gaping helplessly at the crops becoming engulfed, scorched, withering to their deaths.
Handy Hubby could even join me there if he wanted to, it’s not his fault after all. The bugs, the heat, my aching hands, the better part of an entire nation on vacation, as if that weren’t bad enough.
Because then on top of it all is the garden. Every year, the garden horror show, unrecognizable from a month ago, my annually recurring failure at keeping nature mildly tamed.
In anticipation of my August mood, this year I planted loads of flowers at the garden entrance. Flowers and puppies are just about all that’s keeping depression at bay. Some are miserable in the dead of winter; I am miserable in the dead of summer.
Mowing stopped mid-way for stabbing arthritic pain in my wrists and fingers. I don’t care anymore. I can’t care anymore. There are plenty of cow peas and a few ripe melons in that mess, if you dare. After weeks at work, this is what Hubby must come home to, and rescue me from, furthering my shameful failure.
The pigs still have their wee escape, and I have mine.
Puppy pics are way more fun than chemtrail pics.
I could be taking photos of the regular assault in our skies with the disgusting aerosols of climate engineering, as I was for a number of months. Another failure it seems, because I can’t bare it, it doesn’t seem to be helping anything at all, except for normalizing abhorrent “science”.
I simply have no more capacity or patience for folks who don’t, can’t or won’t see, or who don’t care, or who like, the whole-scale rape, murder and pillage of our planet. When will it stop? When will the madness heal? When will a mass of mankind have had enough of bowing to their masters as they crack the whip on the laws of nature?
I’m on vacation alright, just like the bulk of a nation, it’s just a vacation on my window seat, directly under the a/c unit, where I’m grateful to continue my climate engineering research thanks to these more tireless and consistent deeply concerned citizens.
I was pleased to be able to predict we’d have a spray day on Thursday after seeing the forecast on the local news several days before: Rising heat, rising wind gusts, little rain chance except for isolated severe storm potential on the weekend. “Ah,” I said to Hubby, “they will spray Wednesday afternoon or Thursday.” Inwardly this does give me a bit of comfort, despite how much it annoys me to know we are all guinea pigs to these vampires. At least I’ll know why I have an ear ache, head ache, joint pain and/or severe allergies.
To what do I owe my newly-found powers of prediction? Psychic abilities? Nope! Thanks to a YouTube channel called 1PacificRedwood.
Not normal clouds! Stop pretending or pay attention!
We have an innate reflex defined as disgust. When we find something repellant, something repulsive and ugly, most likely, thanks to evolution, we can surmise it is not healthy. I see ridiculous comments and memes trying to push this geoengineering acting as if it’s the better of two evils–it’s severe climate change, or it’s this unsavory alternative to cover the atmosphere in heavy metal micro and nano-particulates.
Where do we get to choose? To opt-out? I’ll take my chances that the SUV drivers of the world won’t ruin the climate if the weather terrorists just stop with their toxic wizardry, thanks anyway.