Kensho Homestead

Crimes of Mena

As I mentioned in the two previous posts, I’m revisiting research I did over a decade ago thanks to the ‘blockbuster movie’ with Tom Cruise (American Made) about the story of a small airport in western Arkansas that was implicated in the transport of weapons and drugs during the Iran-Contra hearings. We already got another Hollywood version of the story in a made-for-TV movie starring Dennis Hopper, but it’s such a good one I guess they couldn’t resist to rehash it once again.

Mena was only one of several locales in the region involved, but it was the one that got the most press, by far. Here in a town of only 5,000, in a ‘dry county’ (alcohol prohibition), in the lovely Ouachita mountains, a tiny speck on the map, was a cornerstone piece of a conspiracy spanning now seven Washington administrations.

Instead of results, we get a banana republic. Instead of the truth, we get Hollywood films. Instead of accountability, the perpetrators and traitors get promotions. Instead of safer streets and communities, we get drugs and weapons through tiny Bible belt towns. Nothing has changed.

And like any good conspiracy, the web of truth and lies is as twisted as any Gordian knot. The agendas and accusations fly as high and fast as old Barry’s Fat Lady, his infamous airplane shot down in Nicaragua and traced back to the then named, Rich Mountain Aviation, Mena, AR.

“The cost of living an exciting life is high.” Barry Seal

Indeed it is, for Seal as well because, spoiler alert, he gets killed, they say by Medillin cartel hit men. I do not know which of whose versions of what really happened and I doubt few others do either. That’s how conspiracies are designed to work, like a maze full of traps of misinformation, to keep folks speculating for generations to come. So they can keep selling box office hits to keep the scoffers and the coffers pumping. As long as nothing really changes.

Most likely, the major figure in this case, Terry Reed, ex-CIA agent and whistleblower, was being factual when he wrote in his confessional tome Compromised: Clinton, Bush and the CIA that: “Believing Mena to be a major drug-smuggling mecca because of Seal’s cover as a trafficker, a state police investigator would later testify that stake out operations at the Mena airport by a joint task force included even agents from the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission. Nothing had been accomplished, because they did not realize that the CIA used Seal as a diversion to distract them from what was really happening at Nella, just under their noses 12 miles away. And, by the time the stakeout even began, the training operations at Nella had already been shut down and some of those involved at Nella were being groomed for bigger and better opportunities in Mexico. (198)”

What happens each time a new exciting, glamorous high crimes story is rehashed, it shifts the “Overton Window.” From Wikipedia: “The Overton window is an approach to identifying which ideas define the domain of acceptability within a democracy’s possible governmental policies. Proponents of policies outside the window seek to persuade or educate the public in order to move and/or expand the window. Proponents of current policies, or similar ones, within the window seek to convince people that policies outside it should be deemed unacceptable.”

Instead of outrage, we’re used to it now. Drugs for weapons, weapons for drugs, no biggie. Yes, we all know the government is involved, old news. The War on Drugs? You mean where street users are thrown to the wolves of the prison industrial complex? Yes, yes, we know already.

Recently I was thumbing through the comments section of a YouTube clip on Mena which quipped, this old story is like ‘conspiracy light’ compared to what’s going on today.

I unfortunately agree. But I think I’ll keep posting on it a bit longer anyway. Maybe it will help one more person to see what we are really dealing with here in our government and how the world really is run by tribal warfare and mafia-style conspiracies while the mass of men continue sleeping. or playing along.

Some links and references of interest in further research for anyone interested. Unfortunately, I suspect due to censorship, much of my original material seems to be not available online.

Johnson, Haynes, Sleepwalking Through History, New York, W.W. Norton & Company, 1991. History of the Reagan years traces the relationships of William Casey, Manuel Noriega and the Medellin cocaine cartel.

Levine, Michael, The Big White Lie, New York, Thunder’s Mouth Press, 1993 DEA undercover investigator learns that the biggest deterrent to stopping the drug epidemic is the CIA.

McCoy, Alfred, The Politics of Heroine, Brooklyn NY Lawrence Hill Books, 1991 Excellent history about CIA complicity in the global drug trade, from the French Connection, to Southeast Asia and onward into the Afghanistan and Latin America.

https://tragedyandhope.com/peace-revolution-episode-092-the-national-security-coup/
A fantastic comprehensive overview, long, but well worth it.

https://ratical.org/ratville/JFK/crimesOfMena.html

https://etherzone.com/deep-inside-the-clintonian-reich-mena-arkansas-drugs-money-and-murder/

The Mena Connection

In the summer of 2006 I spent considerable time researching the Mena connection to the Iran-Contra affair and sent many letters to various people involved as well as to Reader’s Digest and other publications for a chance to cover the story for them.

Here is one of many I wrote to Washington officials, which I now believe is the reason I was put on some kind of ‘watch list,’ requiring me to get double and triple screened at the airport. I stopped flying immediately once I realized these searches were not ‘random’ as I’d been repeatedly told.

Senator Jim Leach
2186 Rayburn House Office Bldg
Washington, D.C. 20510

Dear Senator Leach,

First, I would like to thank you for the many years of work you have dedicated to office in order to further the social amelioration of our country and make our political arena a more just and honorable institution.

I am writing to you as a concerned citizen in regards to the investigation on Mena, AR conducted while you were Chairman of the House Banking Committee. At that time, I applauded your diligence in pursuing the matter of the train murders and their subsequent cover-up and entanglement with the Iran-Contra affair after no fewer than eight state and federal investigations had been dropped. I felt so strongly that your honesty and integrity would triumph no matter who was learned to be at fault, in other words, I thought you had a non-partisan commitment to this issue.

I know you can understand my disappointment in learning that your investigation has also been dropped and this terrible series of crimes continues to be unsolved and its perpetrators unpunished. I have contacted your office several times to try to find the reason behind this dismissal despite the years and millions spent to bring it to justice. I was finally told by a quite impertinent staffer of yours, named Mr. Greg Wierzynski, that if no report has been published than it is none of my business and that if I feel far too much money was wasted in all these fruitless investigations that were started and never finished than this was ‘just my opinion.’

Why were there years of research conducted by Steve Ganis never completed? Why, as a tax-paying citizen, do I have no right to such information as he was able to un cover? And how could so many investigations be started and never finished if in fact there is nothing to hide?

Honorable sir, do you really want your name attached to another incomplete and unpublished investigation for all of history? Do you really think the future citizens of the country will leave such a scandal permanently undisclosed? Do you not worry about the political climate we are handing down to our children—one that is wrought with bi-partisan criminals go unpunished because they are above the law? It is very hard for me to imagine that a man who has dedicated his life to politics did so not out of any sense of moral or social duty, but rather for some other, and therefore far less honorable, reason.

This scandal touched so many Americans on so many levels and to see it continually ignored by every administration is no less than heartbreaking. It makes me afraid for the world, and very frankly, ashamed to call myself an American.

Thank you for your time and consideration, honorable senator.

(I was one small voice in an enormous sea of outrage. My deep gratitude to those actual journalists, investigators, whistleblowers who provided all the content for researching this subject. I will give them credit wherever I know who they are over these series of posts.)

A good documentary to start with some of those biggest names and efforts:

American Made: Reality-based Fantasy

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.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/09/28/movies/american-made-review-tom-cruise.html

List of precursory articles:

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.

Which came first, the truth or the fiction?

Reclaiming Time: Part IV, Finale

There is no greater luxury than time. When we give our time we are giving our energy, our single most precious resource as individuals. I wish I’d understood that better far sooner in life.

I can’t turn back the clock to make up for that, but I can make certain to never sell my time so cheaply again. I see now how I, and a good many more, confused the game with reality. It would also seem, in terms of numbers and the obvious direction culture is heading, that this confusion is getting far worse.

I grew up in a fantasy-based reality, where, as I said in part 1, the artificial, man-made construct of time had long since replaced not only my own internal clock, but the clock of nature as well. I spent an enormous amount of time at school, much of that which I now consider wasted. I spent a good deal of my youth watching television and reading fiction. I spent a fair amount of time in young adulthood experimenting with altered states of consciousness, exploring a bit of the world and a bit of my own mind. That was actually loads of fun, which I cannot regret anymore than I could have continued.

Now in middle age I have a new goal and agenda centered on my own re-education. This to me is reclaiming time and I do it not out of loneliness or boredom, nor to indoctrinate others, nor in the aim of becoming an authority figure, nor even to make money—all of which I have been repeatedly accused and none of which mean anything to me in these pursuits. I do it because it needs to be done, according to the small, still voice of Self.

That I should have the occasion now to do this necessary work fills me with gratitude and even awe. As an unexpected rainbow might stop one in her tracks, or make her hurry back for the camera, I gaze with gratitude at the long empty hours in front of me each morning, ready and waiting to be filled with my heart’s greatest longings: extended walks in the woods with the dogs; spoiling the puppies as much as I dare; answering the phone, or not answering it; writing a blog post, or not; puttering in the garden; cooking something delicious, even if just for me and the critters.

Beyond nature as my companion, I also have many other teachers, ironically the majority of them brought to me by another fantasy-based reality: cyberspace.

From the viewpoint of some friends still enthralled with the fantasy-based reality matrix in which they reside, they find this disturbing. You will be alone on Thanksgiving? And Christmas? And you welcome this? Some even try to label this ‘depression’ or a ‘crisis’ of mid-life. What about family, friends, shopping?! I try to assure them: “No, really, I care not a hoot for the Black Friday specials, or Christmas gifts.” And as for friends and family, they know exactly where to find me.

This Thanksgiving I wish to express my deepest gratitude to he who is making this luxury of time possible, that is Hubby, whose absence and employment are both a gift and a curse. Not a day goes by where I do not marvel at the journey we’ve made together and where it has brought us. I could’ve never predicted it nor imagine how suited to me it could become.

cheeseYT — Me, a cheese-maker? Didn’t see that comin’!

I also want to show my very sincere gratitude to those out in the cyber-world making my re-education easier, more accessible, more entertaining and thought-provoking than it otherwise could have been. These individuals have gone to such incredible lengths to offer their great contributions to knowledge and humanity, not only against the current paradigm, but as serious matters of conscience, and using the most innovative gifts of modern technology available to them. For this modeling I am unreservedly impressed and inspired.

Dane Wigington at Geoengineering Watch: a powerful and tireless voice against geoengineering and for a more responsible relationship by humans with our environment. I would be hard-pressed to find a more consistent and honorable advocate for nature and sanity.

Alex Tsakaris at Skeptico, where have you been all my life?! I just found his site last month. And after the very long series of posts where I was attempting to better understand the nature and frauds of science, I now finally have a solid guide through the territory that most inspires me, expressed in his tagline: “intelligent discussion on science and spirituality.” I’m now a happy member on his forum site after only one previous miserably failed attempt in the world of forums.

Still a favorite after all these years, thank you James! A gifted writer who uses his many talents in devotion to truth–my favorite shows being those in which he demonstrate his extraordinary wit and creativity.

https://www.corbettreport.com/5-unbelievably-stupid-ideas-governments-actually-tried/

https://www.corbettreport.com/solutions-laughing-at-tyrants-video/

https://www.corbettreport.com/shut-up-conspiracy-theorist/

I have recently praised the work of Michael Tsarion and David Whitehead at Unslaved.com, but I would be remiss not to mention them again now. Tsarion gets a baffling amount of criticism, but I’ve found his work, especially on the Tarot, to be invaluable. Now that he has teamed with Whitehead he is grounding into the topics I find most necessary today–personally, politically, intellectually, spiritually, physically. There is an uncanny synthesis in their shows together, maybe based in the inter-generational aspect of it, and that they so often draw from history yet underscore its continued relevance, but definitely in the shared vision that what’s required to move forward and make a better world has been right under our noses and at our fingertips all along. I have learned an enormous amount from them about the nature of evil and the capacities required to usurp it. Thank you, gentlemen, oh how the world needs you now!

Another one I must thank is Crrow777. While definitely not for the faint of heart, they are very much on the cutting edge and I can’t help but to respect that. They are now battling censorship and taking it on like true spiritual warriors. For those ready for a heavy dose of deconstruction, take a deep dive into their waters!

Jon Rappaport (nomorefakenews) I re-blog fairly regularly as he has my great respect as another man of honor with an inspiring dedication to, and passion for, truth. A veteran journalist, one could spend considerable time learning from his vast expanse of past and present work.

Finally, I want to take a deep bow to the greatest teacher by far that I’ve ever known, and will ever know, and which has taken me far too long to find: Nature.

It is in you my reality is centered and my energy devoted for the rest of my luxurious, reclaimed time in your exquisite home.

Spray Day 10.19.17

It’s been a while since I’ve posted spray day pics, but have no fear, the geoengineers are still at it. There are rumors the heavy metal particulates in these man-made ‘clouds’ have intensified the fires in California. I can only repeat what I hear, I do not know.

But I can look in my own sky and see this. Spray begins. Gorgeous blue sky. Cool and beautiful.

Spray continues. Skies get ugly, hazy and cobwebby.

By morning there is heavy fog and I have horrendous allergies.

I have not edited anything in these photos but the size in order to fit here. The color of the sky, the crispness of the air, not to mention the beautiful clarity are so obvious I’m in shock and awe that folks still call ‘chemtrails’ and geoengineering a conspiracy theory. Or that they can look at this ugly mess and think anything good could ever come of it.

The artificial chemical induced ‘sun dog’. Not so rare these days.

And to make it worse it continues still, I could take a dozen more pics right now as the sky gets further trashed by the hour. If I breathe too deeply my throat burns and I start sneezing.

I am grateful to the activists who have helped me understand at least some of what is happening here with ‘geoengineering’ like Dane Wigington, who continues to insist we all stop calling it ‘chemtrails’. I’m fine with that, but I wish there was a word that describes what I’m seeing in equally derisive sentiment. It looks like chemical trails, and it smells like them, too. The various ‘scientific terms’ sound far too benign: solar radiation management, stratospheric aerosol injection, climate remediation, ionizing the atmosphere, whatever the hell they are doing and want to call it, whatever, it’s not like I get a vote.

But if I did, I’d call it weather terrorism.

Reclaiming Time (part 3)

On becoming my own Authority

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

https://unslaved.com/episode-47-give-us-solutions-feat-michael-black/

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.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xV45sOakhsI

Reclaiming Time (part 2)

pose.cz.square — 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.

Reclaiming Time (part 1)

I turn 49 next week. Nearly half a century here and I have recorded a good bit of my journey. My intention is to stick around a good bit more, most days I feel I’ve surely got another 50 to go.

Maybe no one, or more precisely, a precious few, care to read my records or ramblings. This blog is maybe nothing more than the diaries I’ve written from ages 12-45, only to eventually discard. That is on paper, easy to eliminate, by fire, or compost, or any other number of ways. My online ramblings are permanent, or at least their permanence or lack there of, is out of my control, completely.

It is sometimes like a daily offense, just that fact alone, yet I know I could walk away from it at any moment. It is seeped in a weakness I share with many others. Monitor yourself vs stop monitoring yourself. Share yourself vs retreat inward. Public vs private space.

I feel I was pushed out of academia largely on issues concerning privacy—my own, and my students. Yet on the other hand, my life is quite the open book, much more than Handy Hubby appreciates, I know. In any case, it’s hard to complain when I’m glad it happened.

On ‘ratemyprofessors.com’ I’d had scathing performance reviews so much so I had to stop looking there after only two visits. That was many years ago and I’ve avoided my ‘public profile’ ever since, but I never lost my teaching jobs until I said, “No, I won’t do that.”

I will not violate my students’ privacy in this way. I will not become their task-master. Cheerleader is one thing, drill sergeant is quite another. I will not step on this slippery slope of the complete surveillance grid, no matter how you try to sell it or push it. I will not simply follow orders. I will not accept whatever comes down the pipeline without question.

Indoctrination is not education. Social conditioning should never be the aim of teaching. That was why I went toward academia in the first place, because I was apparently duped into believing that didn’t happen here. This was not McDonalds. This was not the Army.

Online now I see the world erupting. Academics and scientists dismissed readily as complete frauds. Hollywood is satanic, the United States is a corporation under maritime law, elite reptilians rule over us all, the moon is a mirage, and the Earth may very well be flat.

And I’m one of the precious few who say, without a hint of mocking, ‘BRING IT ON!”

The weather is being manipulated, I know that for sure. I saw through the staged political-media theater since the Iran-Contra hearings. I lived in Mena, Arkansas and spoke with folks, and that’s all I’m saying here about that. I heard directly, first person, enough to make me understand reality as I had not before.

The weather has been weaponized. Our government was usurped long ago. Now connect those two dots.

There is still a denial in the general public to face the dire facts though they are surrounding us for anyone with the courage to look and discover.

I do not claim to be an authority, I am not, will not and never want to be. Indoctrination was never my intention and never will be. That my intentions might be misunderstood provokes me to spend a bit of time and words unraveling . . .

I am a steward of this land, that’s what called me here. And for the next few posts I’d like to share what that means to me, for those precious few.

Naked Sunday and redneck holiday fun! 🙂 🙂

selfie — pensive and painted in pokeberry (summer 2017)

Motivational interview of the week, considering it’s a miserable 95 degrees again, after a few unseasonably gorgeous days feeling of fall:

http://www.geoengineeringwatch.org/geoengineering-creating-freeze-fry-extremes/

Life Skills Stolen: A Lesson in Hurricanes

About an hour’s drive south over 50 inches of rain has been recorded. Here, we had two inches, barely enough to moisten the parched topsoil, not enough to create even a small puddle for the ducks to romp through. The creek remains low, the pond empty.

Of course Houston is no stranger to floods, or Galveston, or anywhere or anyone who has lived along the Gulf South for any short length of time. While we lived there we were so fortunate as to experience two so-called “100 year hurricanes” in just three years — during Hurricane Katrina we were living in New Orleans, during Hurricane Ike we were living in Galveston.

I refused to live in the Gulf zone, anywhere, after that. The folks that remain must really love it there, or be more resilient than I am, or have lives and jobs and loved ones they can’t bare to do without. I respect their preferences and choices, but I chose that we should get the hell out.

Sometimes a woman has to put her foot down. Or at least, compromise, with pleas and tears. No my dear, we cannot move back to Spain, Hubby concluded, but we can move north of Hurricane Zone and south of Tornado Alley.

OK, it’s a deal! I wonder, maybe more women should be making that sort of deal for the good of their sanity and pocketbooks? I don’t want to give unsolicited advice, but if you choose to remain in the Gulf, it’s only logical and pragmatic and wise in every way that you are emotionally, financially, spiritually capable of living in dangerous regions.

I had long had a respect for self-reliance, having lived in Eastern Europe, where to be Šikovnyý (handy, skillful) was taken to an art form. They didn’t take their Skoda to the mechanic, if they couldn’t fix it, a neighbor could. They cooked from scratch, they mended clothes, they had gardens and grew vegetables in them usually, not grass. There was scarcely any packaging, the waste–I remember that as most impressionable of all–there was hardly any waste.

Of course that changed fast as soon as the Soviets left and the new Big Brother took over. This was progress. Goods filling the shelves, boxes and cans filling the garbage. It was as fascinating to watch as it was hard to watch.

It’s amazing how fast life skills can be lost. Or maybe I should say stolen, because that’s what I really think. The skills that kept cultures thriving and self-reliant and community-driven are being stolen from right under our noses, and our parents’ and grand-parents’ and now even great grand-parents’ noses. For the U.S. at least, this goes way back.

Commodify everything, even the very air we breath and water we need to survive. You are not a good capitalist unless you are willing to drown cities at will in order to profit nicely and have the added benefit of restructuring at will.

See, what ends up happening in these recurrent disasters is those folks who are not self and/or community reliant, are not independent and are most often not the least bit Šikovnyý get in dire circumstances every few years and the government and their communities and extended family and distant friends and loads of complete strangers feel absolutely compelled to help them out. Usually through agencies and funds that are syphoning and squandering these do-gooders’ money. There is not only here what Dr. Phil would surely call “enabling” unhealthy lifestyles, but also in some cases, even a dose of pathological altruism.

I saw after Hurricane Katrina that actually what was happening in New Orleans was a land-grab. I suspect the same and similar is happening with every weather event, and, to go even further, these events, weather and otherwise, are being manufactured.

If you find this preposterous, incredulous, impossible, you need only spend a few hours at these sites to uncover exactly how this is done and has been done for many decades.

Jim Lee’s Weather Modification History

Dane Wigington’s Geoengineering Watch

I know it sounds odd, but those two hurricanes were perfect impetuses for positive change in our lives. Hubby never wanted to live in New Orleans. I never wanted to live in Galveston. We both fancied the idea of having chickens.

And chickens, being the gateway livestock, led to ducks and turkeys, pigs and sheep, goats and . . .

I no longer send money or volunteer, as I had long done, to anyone affected by a disaster through any organization, especially the government. The weather modification programs, and therefore the weather chaos, is a problem they are creating, which they want the public to bare the brunt of on the front end through taxes and the back through disaster relief. It’s a con.

Yes, folks suffer. I get that and I am feeling for them and sending them prayers. Mostly my prayers are saying, “If you can’t handle living in an area that is repeatedly a disaster zone, do like me, and put your foot down, and get the hell out of the Gulf for good.”

It’s just not worth it. It’s not going to get better.

30 Days Clean

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.

Or, maybe Dr. Phil can help me.

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