As the United Nations, Club of Rome, World Health Organization and various other international ‘public-private’ partnerships try to propagandize the world into their vision of “Global Sustainability” there are a number of crucial variables they’ve left out, which localities could capitalize on, if they were made aware of this potential.
For example, did you know there are salt mines all over place in this country? Salt was the basis of our first ‘trade markets’ — long before exotic spices of the Orient — salt was King of the World.
Salt was, well, worth its weight in gold, as the saying goes. Why do we import tea, the ‘native Americans’ might have queried of the mostly British expats settling here? There’s perfectly good tea all around you, can’t you see? And they might have made a few good jokes about that.
But salt? You’re going to import salt, too? What the bleep for?! That’s not even joke-worthy, that’s just a dumb-ass death sentence! You know it’s everywhere around here, right? And the gold y’all so covet, what’s that for, exactly? Y’all are really so very attached to your adornments, eh? Good choices there, give over your salt, so you starve, for gold, so you can pay your taxes. Brilliant system!
Here on the wee homestead we came inspired to see how long and far a road it is to self and community sustainability. We were thinking like most homesteaders, survivalists, etc., are thinking—food, water, energy. Obvious, these are crucial.
But what about the salt? That, along with the water, was the very first thing either robbed, buried, or tainted by the industrialist-minded settlers. Not the ones who came for a better life more aligned with their God and purpose, the ones who came expressly to profiteer for the pay-masters back home.
Long before our water and air were compromised, our people enslaved to the State and our ranges overrun with slave labor, our salt was “buried” by the Global Regulators. There are salt mines and primal (renewable, sub-surface geysers, essentially) water available all over this country.
That was known centuries ago! But go ahead and demonstrate your loyalty to the State, that tricked and enslaved your Great, Great Grandparents and before, by wearing that muzzle of submission and voting for your next tyrant.
Don’t care where your salt comes from? Next you don’t care where your water comes from, or your food comes from, or your energy, or anything else.
This is really the last straw and it’s clear I must find a way to demonstrate the resolute firmness of my stance. I will not comply, cooperate, collaborate, conform, or negotiate.
To that end, I’m going to coin a new mental disorder for myself and all the other poor dear souls seriously suffering for the idiocy of this current madness sweeping global civilization.
All those with Authoritarian Defiance Syndrome please step forward. Let’s join together in our victimhood, in that, at least, we can feel a part of the in-crowd again.
The scenario that did me in was serious indeed. In hindsight, with my 2020 goggles on, breathing freely without a suffocating face diaper, I’ve rewritten this conversation in a more sincere way, closer to the way I really feel. Authenticity is so important these days, or so they keep saying. How that fits in with covering the most expressive part of the face and the fine nuances of the voice, I’ve not a clue, but that doesn’t really matter now.
I gifted myself a birthday present and I was really excited about it. I’m not a big shopper at all, but I do love learning and adventure. So I invited Hubby and a friend to join me for a plant walk at the Caddo Mounds with a well-known naturalist in our region.
I was very excited, because I already tried to go on this plant walk last year, right before a manufactured tornado in the middle of the day during one of their spiritual ceremonies leveled the place, along with miles of the surrounding forest. Needless to say, the event was canceled.
Having already paid the $50 each for the afternoon walk, I received a courtesy call for the current event: Masks required.
Of course, I cancelled, despite my intense desire to learn from this expert on the flora and fauna in fall in our region and waiting patiently already a year and a half.
Why do I refuse? ADS. That’s right: Authoritarian Defiance Syndrome. I find it absolutely impossible to bow to tyranny. It’s not just that it’s even more ridiculous to walk around the forest in a mask than it is in the city. It’s the principle. Many will have no idea what that word means and even less what it looks like in action.
Another friend suggested I write to this expert and ask for special permission to remain free of required face diaper. I considered this option, and thought, what appeal might I make for such an undeserved privilege? Why should I be able to breath and speak freely while everyone else in the group is muzzled? How selfish. After all, I know folks who’ve got infections and rashes from wearing these awful things, yet still they comply. Is my suffering on par with theirs before making such a bold gesture as expecting special privileges from the expert?
What makes me so special? I haven’t worn one yet and it’s my goal to keep it that way. But, how? My concern is accelerating. It looks like this charade is not going to let up and in fact, the tyrants look to me like they are doubling down, with great pleasure.
ADS. The harder they push, the worse my condition becomes, it’s extraordinary. The more illogical they get, the more stubborn I get. Clearly this is an adverse condition that should make it into the DSM15, or whatever number the expert psychologist collaborators of tyranny are on now.
If my condition were severe claustrophobia (in fact my case is fairly mild, relatively speaking) would I be required by the social rulers to ride in a crowded elevator everyday? Would that not seem to be a cruel punishment of a mentally handicapped individual?
Obviously it’s ridiculous on its face that masks should be required in an outdoor setting. And to pour a little salt on the wound of my ruined birthday plans, my friend is going anyway. Nice.
In the meantime, I’m practicing my routine, for the next time I have to sacrifice to the many tyrants and the hordes of worshippers who love them.
Clerk: Ma’am, you’ll need to wear a mask. Ma’am (me): You mean a face diaper? I’m so sorry, I can’t wear one of those. I suffer from ADS. Clerk: It’s required, ma’am. Me: No, you see, I have an exemption from my therapist, it’s right here, Dr. Freeman, psychological condition, you see it marked right there, ADS. Clerk: It’s not a face diaper, it’s a mask. Doctors wear them all the time, they never have any problems. Me: Oh, but you see, that’s exactly why I didn’t become a brain surgeon. The first time I had to wear one in medical school I had an attack, that’s when I was diagnosed with claustrophobia. They didn’t know about ADS back then. Clerk: What’s ADS? I’ve never heard of it before. Me: Don’t worry, you will, they are popularizing new syndromes all the time. This one’s going to be really huge, my astrologer told me. Clerk: Well I find it offensive when you call a surgical mask a face diaper. Me: That’s because you’re not performing surgery. Clerk: But diapers are for babies. Me: Potato-PoTAto. Where you see a mask, I see a diaper. Can’t you see now what a serious mental condition this is?
The saying goes that where God closes the door, he opens the window.I used to think that expression was dumb.But then, I used to think God was just a dumb word invented by dumb folk.
Now I understand God a bit better and that expression seems apropos.Surely in these months of our Scamdemic we’ve seen a lot of closed doors.We could point at them all day, and I get the appeal of that, really.
Or, we could search for the windows.They are there, no doubt, dumb expression or not.
There are ones out there opening the windows, trying to make them easier for others to find them.I really believe that.Even if you told me with 100% scientific evidence that no one is out there trying to open any windows, maybe even because there aren’t any windows to open, I’d insist your science was wrong.
That means my belief is more powerful to me than anyone else’s science.Funniest thing about that is, it also means, if you can’t reason me out of it, you can’t shame me out of it either.
And that’s a window right there. Here’s another one:
Just when I thought I’d heard the best anti-vax speakers and arguments that there are, I hear this lady! Holy smokes, she’s on fire, I have to share it right now, even though I need to listen three more times at least, then rinse and repeat, so I can recite this wizard to every vaccine worshipper I meet!
So happy to meet, Amandha Vollmer, introduced through James True, who I keep talking about, because he keeps crushing.
If I had to claim a favorite presentation of the year so far, this would be it. I’m armed with info and poetry from her words—the next sewing circle, campfire, swap meet, square dance, town hall meeting, potluck, trek, shop or queue—I’ll know just what to do. And say!
And even if I only do one of those activities, because I’ll never wear a mask, I know I’m super infectious, by nature, so those experts say. So you better watch out! 😉
I’m something of a stickler for words, but what can I say, when you teach foreign languages for two decades a fetish for ‘le mot juste’ just comes with the territory.
Furthermore, when you love being a student as much as I do, it’s expensive to disagree with your teachers.On the other hand, it’s far more expensive to not disagree when I think a disagreement is in order.
Which brings me back to a recent post where I disagree with my current favorite teacher, James True.I don’t think I was persuasive enough in my argument, because he tried to shame me with group-think in front of the whole class (by class I mean his YouTube audience).It didn’t work though, because my love of words is far stronger than my capacity for shame, or group-think.
I lie awake at night thinking about such things.In the wee hours, that is usually between 2 and 3 am, I often get inspiration in the form of annoying insomnia.It’s a fairly small price to pay for what occasionally turns out to be a spectacular insight.
So, I’m trying again, Professor True, to convince you to shift your expression ‘Compassion is not consent’ because I think it’s not accurate.Embedded in the word compassion is consent.Its etymology is ancient, unlike more modern words like empathy.But, I already mentioned that in my first failed attempt to persuade.
And, I don’t want to just negate the expression, because I think I understand what is meant and the sentiment behind it.Instead, I’d like to offer what I think is a more precise phrase in order to refine it.
Consider instead, if you please: “Compassion minus consent.”
Here’s why.
Understanding is based in intellect.Empathy/sympathy is emotionally-centered.But compassion comes from the core. I think so far the good professor would agree, because he talks often about the importance of being seated in one’s pelvis, though he uses more colorful expressions for that fact.
I believe these subtle differences in expression have considerable impact and can be used by nefarious powers against the greatest intentions and wills of man.A couple of examples:
“We are all One” or “We are all in this together” is a kind of bastardization of an absolute truth: Everything is connected.We live in a holistic system.I believe this means that in the mind of man is buried the ancestral wisdom of all ages.I believe this is true because I’ve experienced it personally.Someday I’ll have the skill to express it.But I don’t yet.
I believe this is also what NDE (near death experience) is about.There is an ‘extended consciousness’ realm and I do believe some folks are able to move between these realms (sometimes against their will or comprehension).We used to call it shamanism and try to cultivate it, now we call it schizophrenia and try to control it. Professor True has several excellent posts on this topic.
Another example: “All we need is love” or the myriad variations that have bombarded us for several generations through art, film, books, music.I’ve already said my piece on this a couple of times, so I won’t rehash it again.
I’m all for love and compassion.I just think to saturate the culture with it or suggest it’s the magic bullet to end our social woes is actually undermining it. True love and compassion should be earned and dished out sparingly.Empathy, sympathy, understanding should be extended as far and wide as humanly possible.Kindness, care and concern should be liberally applied, perhaps even where it’s not deserved.
And compassion, minus consent, is something awesome I could aspire to—I know it won’t be easy—but it seems to me a worthy goal of an enlightened social order.
In any case, these men are totally crushing in this best Apocalypse ever, and are so much more entertaining than this post. Do something both fun and healthy for yourself on Father’s Day and check them out!
I don’t suppose any conspiracy theorist will ever get an apology from any of the many for all their eye rolls and insults and blind bobbleheads promoting every lie and agenda of their corporate and government masters.
Instead, they’ll sign right on for whatever old bullshit that smells new again. Lucky for us, the United Nations continues to make that very easy for them.
The UN loves us all so very much, they propose we end capitalism to make way for, drum roll please . . .
Happytalism is a new economic paradigm which places happiness, well-being, and freedom at the center of human development models, systems, and all life.
Advancing a new economic paradigm of happytalism for humanity means mobilizing $30 trillion toward achieving the 17 UN Global Goals, 169 targets by 2030.
Advancing a new economic paradigm of happytalism for humanity means mobilizing $30 trillion toward achieving the 17 UN Global Goals, 169 targets by 2030.
Happiness is a fundamental right, and the UN is going to provide it for the world. Don’t you feel special? Just be happy, no matter what!
Health Impact News, thanks for some real reporting.
I bet ‘contact tracing’ is part of their happiness regimen. As well as global mandatory vaccines they’ll call ‘optional’ but you won’t be able to work, shop, travel without them.
But while you’re home you can be entertained with mind-numbing garbage, and remain eternally happy.
She gave us a million dollars, surely we can grant her this one thing?Keep it alive, that’s all she asked.
Her mother, she says, was a saint.This jade came through her, and through her mother, and her mother’s mother.Jade is a special sort of plant, kind of like a Wandering Jew in that way, give it what it wants and it’s immediately invasive, take it out of its narrow comfort zone and it withers dramatically before dying.Your negligence would be in the spotlight for months while you went on not noticing, or, not caring.
She was a saint, it is said.She could knit through wails for twenty minutes before noticing a thing.Once trance broken, “Oh, Oscar stop already” muffled huff, return to needles.Oscar scoffs, and stops.
Saint is code word for Expert of Dissociation.Give the lady another medal. She could read or knit or drown in TV while the seas parted around her, and remain oblivious.She could minimize and whitewash every ‘love bite’ and ‘love pinch’ and smile, or shrug, or eye-roll her way through a dozen abusive slurs.That’s what it means to be a saint.
Long-suffering Jades, pass it on, don’t forget, don’t neglect, and always, pass those seeds on.
