In our last post we took a look at Laurel Blair Salton Clark and learned that human bodies and space shuttles disintegrate at different laws of physics than CDs, which are now nearly lost to time, but apparently not to space.
Moving on to the hero of the story, we have Rich Husband, Commander of the mission. He had an illustrious career as a fighter pilot and astronaut and is accredited with a long list of honors and awards and even has a statue.
But what some may not know is he also was an actor. He played himself in a series called Our Jewish Roots in 2003. His wife, Evelyn, has also played herself in numerous programs. Unfortunately as miraculous as our cyber world is, I can’t find a way to view this episode; it doesn’t even seem to be available for purchase.
Rick Husband – IMDb
His also the subject of an episode about the failed Columbia mission, played by actor Brian David, born September 11, 1965 in Kansas City MO and appearing in 3 films in 2004, 2005, 2006 one quite popular. But he’s not in any recent films. Quite a handsome fellow, I wonder what happened to him.
The chem-filled skies continue into our Yo-Yo Season, formerly known as fall and winter.
I suppose art students are now learning to draw filth-filled skies as fine and normal the way we used to draw puffy clouds as kids before the 90s.
Scientists will be taught that aluminum, barium, strontium are all to be expected in our snow and rain and soil.
We’ve been talking about it for a decade, providing all the proof we could get our hands on, and the government put their blinders on like good little minions and the greedy scientists and corporate media spinners did as they were told in order to keep collecting their paychecks and pensions.
And now it’s all coming out. Officially, finally. “Conspiracy theory” is no longer an out for them. IT’S OFFICIAL!
IT’S NOT JUST CONSPIRACY CRAZIES POSTING PHOTOS OF CONTRAILS. WOW!
SO THESE REALLY AREN’T JUST BEAUTIFUL SUNSETS AND FUN CLOUD FORMATIONS MADE BY THE WEATHER GODS FOR OUR ENJOYMENT?
WOW!
So now what? What does it all mean? Trump’s here to fix it all, right?
No silly! Now comes the part where we get Global Governance, through more war and manufactured disasters blamed on nature. The big reveal, the book Behind the Green Mask was published 13 years ago.
Looks like it’s all happening right on schedule. With the exact same people hiding information for the last 50 years leading the show.
22 November 2024 | ZeroGeoengineering.com | Planning, development, and implementation of weather interventions and atmospheric experimentation are funded by Congress and directed by interagency groups including those in partnership with the U.S. Global Change Research Program (USGCRP).
The USGCRP was established by Congress in 1990 to coordinate ‘global change research’ and collaboration with international and federal agencies.
Ending USGCRP interventions will require repealing federal laws including but not limited to, the National Weather Modification Policy Act, the Global Change Research Act (GCRA) of 1990, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Authorization Act of 1992 and Trump’s Weather Research and Forecasting Innovation Act of 2017 (Public Law No. 115-25, Title IV, sec. 402, 15 U.S.C. § 8542.
I’m sure our crafty disaster capitalists will be filled with hope and solutions. Anti-radiation suits. Fancy new protective devices.
I’m sure the high fashion industry and the home and garden gurus will have plenty of new high-tech solutions to save us all. And the ‘detox’ solutions, of course. So many solutions! Don’t worry!
“Did you know radiation is a central component of weather control?
At the heart of weather experimentation is NEXRAD, or NEXt-generation RADar and the transmission of microwave radiation pollution. The cell phone you hold in your hand and the cell phone towers it’s communicating with are transmitting and receiving microwave radiation. Shown below, definitions of pollution and pollutants from Verizon and AT&T”
I will be accused of being hyperbolic. Melodramatic. Perhaps I complain too much. Might my standards be too high?
It’s not that bad, they will say, or think. You still have a house and a husband and a relatively stable life. Just think of those miserable folks in . . . And all those who . . . And don’t forget the starving children in . . .
All over the place. Like, seriously, all over the god-damned place, and still everywhere, also, simultaneously, I hear such minimizing, avoidance, redirecting, marginalizing ‘advice’ from those high on their horses.
So if my experience, this time, is not as hellish as the last time, or as his or her or their experiences, on our vast continuum of hellishness, I should just move on. Get over it.
No matter how hard it gets, the social contract requires you stay positive, hopeful, forever gazing over the rainbow at the future potential for success, and perpetually focused on the life lesson.
It’s not hard, it’s challenging. It’s not a problem, it’s an opportunity. It’s not theft, it’s redistribution. It’s not a real lie, it’s a lie of omission. It’s not a failure, it’s a stepping stone. You’re not beat, you’re regrouping.
I still get counseled from others, unwanted advice (well-meaning I’m sure in their own minds) on how to see the bright side.
As if I don’t know how to do it! I was born and raised painting a silver lining on every cloud. I’m American, we’ve written nearly every script on this bullshit.
But, I grew up and got over it.
I was also a teacher for 20 years and sometimes I was actually a good one. Ok, maybe only occasionally, but that counts.
When I was good it was because I was tough, but fair. Not nice. Not compromising. Not lenient or understanding. Not painting rosy pictures or being sweet and kind.
And in such moments of lucidity it became very obvious to me that most students fail due to one thing: unrealistic expectations.
Our culture is saturated with them. Because it’s really, really good for business.
Lots of students sincerely wanted to learn the foreign language I was trying to teach them, and certainly had the smarts to do so because it’s not difficult, even a child can do it. And almost always does!
But they bought the hype of some advertisement or second hand story from a braggart who swears anyone can learn a language in three months by listening to tapes on their work commute. They bought the expectation the process would be smooth sailing all the way.
They are a lot like these types who are constantly insisting everyone see the bright side of every situation. They’re all like mood police. Like moms who make kids ‘kiss and make up’ while they’re still seething inside. Emotional bullying based on unreasonable expectations. It reminds me of an awful photo I once saw of a child model posing for the camera with a forced smile on her face though her eyes were red and puffy from crying.
So, with all that out of the way, this summer has SUCKED for me.
There, I’ve said it. I haven’t written a Homestead Happenings in months in order to avoid having to try to make it palatable for readers. I know how to paint the silver lining on it. But, it also irritates me that those are the only kinds of stories we’re allowed to tell in mixed company. If there’s not some triumph over adversity, keep it to yourself.
If there’s not gratitude somewhere for the gift of life, no one wants to hear it. Stop whining. Get over it. Make lemonade.
Sometimes it takes 20+ years to learn the lesson of one moment.
“Jste zdrava?!”
“Are you quite well?!” (Lost in translation.)
It was not a friendly inquiry. So naturally, I was immediately put off. My Czech was mediocre and I was confused, I took it more literally.
Am I healthy? Why on earth is she asking me that? Why is she shouting and waving her arm?
I understand now she meant that facetiously. Like an Old Southern Belle might drawl from her wraparound porch, “You from around here, Darlin’?” Right before she pulled a shotgun from behind her skirts.
Maybe I should consider myself lucky she couldn’t possibly have a shotgun when and where she was living in Prague.
Her home looked very much like an antebellum plantation home, not so different from the one above, but only a quarter of one, and with just two pillars. With a large front and back yard, and beautiful fruit trees full of plums, which stuck out even in this neighborhood of nicer homes compared to the typical panelock housing found just a block away.
Soviet era ‘panelock’ housing
That I’d be inclined to take a photo should be logical, at least that’s how it seemed to me at the time.
Should I have told her I was perfectly healthy, 25, in my prime, one might say.
Me, always curious, at a pub in Jihlava, Moravia, current day Czech Republic, 1994
“No taking pictures here!” More hollering and waving.
Now that time I did understand without any additional effort. I put down my camera, I apologized, and I moved on to the next house, where I took more pictures unencumbered by any screaming women.
Prague in 1999 was already transformed from that of 1992, at least I could see it clearly.
Of course it’s different if you live there, even rapid change can seem incremental when one is concerned with the quotidian. Foreigners have a different perspective.
I looked like a spy to her, I get that now. It’s not that I wasn’t used to paranoia, it was permeating the place, always.
It’s just I didn’t recognize what paranoia like that would feel like until decades later, in my own country.
Yes, the United States, where we are told we are free. Of course you can take a photo of my beautiful house, I take great pride in it!
Adjusting to insanity. That’s what that woman had done. The more one is required to adjust to insanity, the more paranoid one becomes.
She saw me as a spy, not as a clueless and curious American interested in architecture.
“Are you quite well?” Was most likely a candid and covert admission that she was in possession of illegally inherited property. Or if not illegally obtained, then certainly not conforming to the current and always shifting proper codes.
Under Soviet governance no one was allowed a large house without subdividing, everywhere, not just in the large cities. There was a housing crisis. Everywhere. Even country estates and cottages had to be confiscated. Collectivized, euphemistically speaking. Then, Privatized, once again. The hand that washes the back . . .
Repatriated? Potato-Potato. Musical chairs?
You really think it’s different here now? Don’t dig too deep.
In fact, you’re not allowed to be a curious American in America either. Little did I realize. Try talking about the weather. Ask a few questions. Don’t stop when you get the first rebuff of redirection and discomfort. Press on.
You want to see how much America TODAY is like the Soviet Union?
Why is it 99 degrees in mid October in East Texas? Why hasn’t it rained for 2 months?
Climate Change is a scam? I agree.
Why are there hurricanes in the mountains of Southern Appalachia? Climate change is a scam? I agree.
Why are there so-called Northern Lights in the south?
Climate change is a scam. I know.
Where do you think this is going? What do you think they are up to? Why don’t you ask some questions? What are you so afraid of?
Press on. I dare you. Do we own our air space? Who has taken over our atmosphere? Who is complicit?
I hear social criticism on occasion that the problem with cultures in the West today is a lack of moral courage among the people. We have traded our ethics and morality for comfort and convenience. And I think this is a very valid criticism.
But . . .
That does not strike the problem at the root. It is another effect, not a cause. Because in order to manifest moral courage there first must be moral indignation.
Where has that gone?
Those who I’ve witnessed as model-worthy examples of moral courage started off with anger, outrage even, against the injustices they were witnessing around them, in their institutions, their governments, their families.
They didn’t wait for orders from above. They didn’t look on their social media feeds for what should be outraging them. They looked around themselves, in their own lives, where they personally experienced the unfair treatment, or lack of concern, or outrageous injustice, or someone close to them experienced it, igniting in them the blue flame of anger, the righteous indignation, that is the sustaining fuel that feeds moral courage.
Several such individuals come to mind from the last years:
“In early 2020, the Canadian biostatistician Christine Massey realised that something was wrong with the COVID-19 story. She was motivated to commence investigations into virology and the claimed evidence for the existence of ‘SARS-CoV-2’. This led to the development of the Freedom of Information Act project that revealed more than 200 health and science institutions being unable to cite any valid scientific evidence for the alleged “virus”.
Over time the project has expanded to include other alleged “viruses” as well as evidence that any microbes, including bacteria, have been shown to be pathogenic in controlled scientific experiments. The conclusions from Christine’s research are clear: virology is based on pseudoscience and germ “theory” has been falsified. Her work has caught the attention of the establishment media and she even earned a typically-disingenuous “fact check” article recently.”
Moral outrage does not have to look or sound like a crazy woman screaming at the crowd, or making obscene gestures, or behaving like a scary lunatic.
It can be as calm and straightforward as Christine Massey and the Bailey doctors. It can strike at the lies in measured tones and with legal methods. It can be inspiring to others even as you work from the comfort of your bed while sipping tea.
Yet relatively few bother.
It’s remarkable to me that there are so many even now whose moral indignation is never sparked by the mess of the world around them. It’s never fueled by concern for others or for the future. It is as if they are comfortably numb.
It is indeed frustrating to have to live among so many such people. For every Christine Massey there are probably 10,000 soulless deadbeats. Maybe more.
That might sound pretty depressing, but on the bright side, that means just lifting a pinky finger to do the right thing is looking pretty heroic in comparison.
What do you think? Have you had a personal experience of transformation through art?
I wrote my Master’s thesis on social engineering in 90s, before I had any idea what social engineering was. I didn’t know at the time that’s what I was writing about. The thesis was about women writers of francophone West Africa using their novels as a means to catalyze social change. Liberation through literature, I called it, where practices like polygamy, female genital mutilation, and lack of educational opportunities were voiced in fictional form by the otherwise voiceless.
Certainly it is not at all uncommon for writers to use their works toward such ends. And yet, something about the timing of my thesis, or perhaps the content, resonated less with others than I expected.
I found that instead ‘Art for art’s sake’ had become the more popular mode of the times and works that were considered to be ‘too pedantic’ (which seemed to mean any fictional work with a purpose other than sheer entertainment) were heavily criticized.
I tried for years to pitch similar ideas for publishing to various entities and could find no interest and quite a lot of criticism. Folks wanted to be entertained, not taught. If they had to learn something, they wanted it tightly obscured in a bubble of excitement, like a Dan Brown novel.
But times seem to have changed again and authors and artists with a serious message, with deep societal concerns, seem to be able to find, or are perhaps themselves creating, a growing audience hungry for their transformational content.
It reminds me of some of the criticisms I heard in the 90s—art is not meant to transform or educate, but rather has the sole purpose to simply express the subjective worldview of the creator. Any feelings of universality in a work of art is essentially meaningless coincidence. Art should not be held in the clutches of meaning-making. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Art cannot be personally or socially transformative, except to the artist himself, that is an establishment myth of conformity.
I even had an artist friend, with an art degree, who assisted at a gallery, try to insist to me that the glass flask full of the artist’s excrement (I’m not joking) was to be considered art just as much as any old famous painting.
So I’m very pleased to see this more recent ‘re-formation’ to art with purpose. But, I wonder, can it actually be transformative? Or were all those critical voices in the 90s correct?
What do y’all think?
Here’s a couple of amazing pieces which might have such power. Do you know of others to share? If so, please do link below!
In Shadow: A Modern Odyssey
Kingdom
These works are both by: Lubomir Arsov and you can find an excellent interview with him here:
The Hate spewed in this tirade is not politically motivated, nor is it the result of biases toward any ethnic group, nor gender-oriented ideology nor philosophy, nor tribe, nor nation, nor social collective, market, herd, country, continent, school of thought or fish, sea or sea-adjacent, corporation, cooperative, nor any other type of group, at any time in past or present or future.
This will be Hate directed squarely at specific individuals, mostly for their overarching idiocy, blind obedience, gaslighting or other dainty bullshit* and general full-fledged and undeniable assholery. These would be individuals for whom my disdain and contempt has been building, decades in some instances, seconds in others.
This is not your average rant or shitposting. Therefore it will be organized in proper form, beginning with Silver level Hatred, then proceeding to Bronze level, and ending with Platinum.
In no way can my Hateful Epic Tirade be confused with a real Hate Crime, of the variety of famous (or infamous, depending on his audience), Mr. CJ Hopkins, currently awaiting his second trial in New Normal Berlin. That’s because real Hate Crimes are against groups, particularly those groups with a shitload of power.
Mr. Hopkins deserves his prosecution for so hatefully opposing many such VIP groups. Too many to count surely, but most certainly he is an enemy of the totalitarian State by any measure. He made a grave mistake of criticizing it repeatedly on various public forums and a great many suffered for his actions, so there must be strict punishment.
Besides, any satirist worth his salt should spend time in prison, it’s like a rite of passage. It will ultimately improve his work, so I hope he understands it will be worth it. That is, if he lives long enough to get out. And even if not, great satirists often get even funnier after they’re dead. It’s mystical or something.
But I do not like the idea of spending heaps of sums (which I don’t have) on attorneys, or the threat of a ruined career (too late) and jail time (been there too) by being hateful to any group, powerful or otherwise.
Therefore I’m focusing my Hate directly on the individuals who engendered that hatred by their own actions, or lack thereof.
Before proceeding I’d also like to clarify that my hatred does not extend to violence, nor to the threat of violence. I want to make it perfectly clear that while, yes, I am indeed armed, I am not dangerous.
Furthermore, I’m a terrible shot and get frightfully nervous and shaky when alarmed, and I probably couldn’t manage to shoot a pair of balls at close range, eyeballs or otherwise.
So, to get on with it!
The Silver Level Hatred is awarded to my neighbor, Herr Blackheart. His crime is being a belligerent idiot. Idiocy is one thing, we all have to tolerate it regularly, this is part of the invisible social contract no one signed.
Belligerent idiocy is common as well, but it’s far more dangerous. Herr Blackheart is bullying and condescending and adolescent and has the social graces of a shanked hog.
And he has the infuriating gall to go on and on about the pristine air quality of our skies!
I can only assume he means in comparison to the slums of New Delhi in winter. Otherwise he might have earned a Bronze or even a Platinum award for the level of Hatred he was able to inspire in me.
A man so willfully blind he laughs out loud as he yells about his army of friends in the aviation industry, who all (shockingly) tow the company lines: Chemtrails are a conspiracy theory! Geoengineering is not real! You are a crazy lady! Stop bothering us!
And furthermore, weather modification is awesome, so there!
Some day we will control the weather and he who controls the weather will control the world!
YEEHAW!
Moving on.
The Bronze Level Hatred is awarded to my former dentist in Arizona, a total Jackass of epic proportion, who is really lucky I can’t remember his name.
Jackass was forced on me by my insurance plan and I had to suffer his arrogant used car salesman tactics for a year before I could switch. He employed all the well-worn tricks to get me to purchase every product and procedure available at his Uber High-Tech office with an unusally large staff of all young and beautiful female assitants. My teeth aren’t white enough, straight enough, clean enough, my gums are receding, I need a root canal, and maybe another.
I’m super surprised he never tried to send me to his 2nd cousin in Albequerque for a boob job.
And, I’d bet the farm he was on drugs, amphetamines of some sort. He would hit nerves I didn’t even know I had, and then claim I was being too sensitive.
Too sensitive, eh? Perhaps I didn’t have the same degree of drugged blood necessary as to render me as insensitive as being in his presence required. (Perhaps because he and his staff were sniffing off the top a little too much?)
Too bad I can’t invite him to sit in my magic chair of torture and drill into his brain, just a little. With an entourage of uniformed pretty boys gazing on.
Don’t let the bland eyes and penciled-in eyebrows fool you, this is one mean career Tyrant standing here!
The Platinum level Hate goes to Frau Ines Karl, the Hate-Crime Commissar of New Normal Berlin.
This is my personal gift, since I can’t afford a financial donation, on behalf of the Hate Crimes trials of Mr. CJ Hopkins. I know, that’s mighty white of me, as the saying goes. I will avoid taking a bow for humility’s sake.
I just think he needs some solidarity at the moment and even though he has been terribly Hateful to many VIP groups, he has been far too kind to the garden variety Tyrants he’s been exposed to on a daily basis for quite some time.
I know he’s a very courageous individual, but he’s hardly in a position to put any Hate down on any one person, especially if said person has the power to put him in prison for three years. Or more. Or less. Her whim, I suppose.
Not that he doesn’t deserve to be in prison, that’s been established in the previous paragraph: All good satirists deserve to go to prison. It enriches their work. Really, she’d be doing him, as well as his international audience, a great service.
But since I know that’s not her motivation, she gets the full reward of my individualized Hate.
I know some of you are probably thinking she doesn’t deserve that, from me certainly, who has never even met her, or heard her name spoken before this day. Hate, well-tended, does tend to come on suddenly, and be transferable. It’s mystical or something.
While you may be right about that, it’s beside the point. I stand with Mr. Hopkins. He is not able to Hate on her, maybe he doesn’t even hate her at all, so clearly, it’s up to me.
Right here you can see he’s being far too kind to this career Tyrant.
“I don’t want to impugn her competence as a Senior Public Hate-Crime Prosecutor or in any way suggest that the “lengthy review process” of her understanding of the law (including the concept of “the rule of law” in non-totalitarian societies) conducted by the Judges’ Election Committee and the Office for the Protection of the Constitution prior to turning her loose on the public following the collapse of the GDR was … well, anything less than adequate, but, if Germany is going to continue to claim that it has any respect for basic democratic principles — not to mention its own constitution — someone might want to take Ines Karl aside and explain that political dissent is not a crime.
Or, on second thought, maybe it is now. In which case, it would helpful if the German authorities would drop the “Germany is a democratic state under the rule of law” crap and just go openly totalitarian. It would certainly be less confusing.”
Tyrants, please have mercy on Mr. Hopkins, just look how sad and confused he is!
You see, he’s confused. I get it! I just want to help.
This Tyrant has made a long and successful career out of prosecuting Haters, so being a Hater myself, I feel justified to a bit of long-distance revenge.
“Senior Public Hate-Crime Prosecutor Ines Karl began her distinguished prosecutorial career back in the GDR, i.e., the German Democratic Republic, the judiciary of which convicted roughly 200,000 people of political crimes during its 40-year existence.”
I’ve reserved a special Hate-On Voodoo Supreme Package I learned deep in the swamps of Plaquemines Parish before the arrival of the Great Hurricane Katrina of the Raytheon Empire. This ritual can only be performed on the Sabbath of the 56th year of the Holy Birth of the Phantom Shelle.
And it just so happens that’s coming up at the end of this month!
Prepare for a Major Hate Flow coming your way Frau Karl of New Normal Berlin!
*Dainty bullshit, is the popular expression attributed to shitposting professional, Decker, of the esteemed blog: Dispatches from the Asylum.
Accepting the unacceptable. We all must learn to do it, they say. It’s the Gospel of all Gospels. Humility. Here we must go into the higher realms of consciousness. Those feared and revered and most hallowed of places where we learn how to bow gracefully. Where we learn our pride is misplaced. Where we learn to swallow our tears. Where we learn to stifle our voices and especially to keep with the program.
Did you learn all the right tricks? Do you still pledge allegiance to the flag on cue? Do you still believe the hollow rituals and shapeshifting lies?
Lucky you! Here’s to the happy few!
Historic picture of Bathhouse Row, Hot Springs, Arkansas
A short trip to Hot Springs, Arkansas and I’m deep in the sticks, and deep into pondering the relevance of free speech. Why? Because I realize you can’t have free speech in a nation if you don’t have free speech in your own family.
It’s more than freedom of speech, it’s freedom of thought, which begets freedom of information, which begets freedom of ideas freely circulating, because one hardly exists without the others.
We don’t have that and we need everyone to stop pretending that we do.
It’s much more all encompassing than I think most folks realize. It begins in the family, because it begins in consciousness, which is something that is exceptionally easy to limit. Especially when we are very young. A few simple lies of omission and generations are easily compromised.
Imagine what chaos the biggest lies create.
It’s happening in the micro and macrocosms simultaneously, filling up, in and through, the waters of life, saturating the atmosphere itself, all has been compromised. It would seem not just the walls, but even the air, have ears.
I learned a new word on the roadtrip there while listening to a podcast: Iatrogenesis – from Wikipedia
“Iatrogenesis is the causation of a disease, a harmful complication, or other ill effect by any medical activity, including diagnosis, intervention, error, or negligence.[1][2][3] First used in this sense in 1924, the term was introduced to sociology in 1976 by Ivan Illich, alleging that industrialized societies impair quality of life by overmedicalizing life. Iatrogenesis may thus include mental suffering via medical beliefs or a practitioner’s statements. Some iatrogenic events are obvious, like amputation of the wrong limb, whereas others, like drug interactions, can evade recognition. In a 2013 estimate, about 20 million negative effects from treatment had occurred globally. In 2013, an estimated 142,000 persons died from adverse effects of medical treatment, up from an estimated 94,000 in 1990.”
In Hot Springs I’m headed directly to Bathhouse Row in the National Historic Landmark District, part of the Hot Springs National Park, alone, for a bit of site seeing. Back in my heavy travel days I often traveled alone and I don’t mind it, I actually rather like it, in moderation. It does get lonely, and sometimes awkward, but that’s balanced with the reality that I’ve known very few people in my life who appreciate the same types of exploration that I do.
A National Historic Landmark District nestled inside a National Park, that’s an awful lot of ‘protection’.
Bathhouse Row—Where our ancestors once turned to bathing in mineral springs and walking in wooded mountains to restore health. How silly!
More online historic photos of Bathhouse Row
I like visiting odd and anomalous sorts of places off the beaten track. I like old architecture and ruins. I especially like the places where city and nature become fused.
Hot Springs, Arkansas is definitely one of those places. And so much more. Bathhouse Row was once a spa destination for the rich and famous and boasted healing springs on par with the greatest European spa cities, like Karlovy Vary and Baden-Baden.
That was definitely boasting, I’ve been to many of them. But, there’s no doubt in its heyday it was very impressive. Especially considering Arkansas has for a century at least been considered a hillbilly-type haunt in the middle of the ‘flyover states’ and certainly not a hotspot for anything, except maybe the Dixie Mafia.
But, like in so many other places, something very strange is happening with the history, and I don’t mean the tall tales of gangster stories and bizarre wax museums and outrageously lame ‘haunted house’ tours meant to sell over-priced tickets to the vaudeville-loving masses.
What I really want to know is: What are they actually still hiding here in plain sight? And how is it they are still able to get away with tearing down pristine architecture and carting away the evidence unquestioned, even in the protected area of a National Park, which is Bathhouse Row?
So I started to do a bit of digging.
“The Bathhouse Row cultural landscape is located along the foot of Hot Springs Mountain. It is identified it as one of six landscape character areas within the 18-acre Reservation Front. The cultural and natural features of the surrounding areas are evidence of the historic recreational and spa experience that have brought visitors to Hot Springs since the 1830s. Bathhouse Row is historically designated as an “architectural park” in which the buildings and landscape were designed to be a cohesive unit.”
“According to the National Historic Landmarks Program the status of Bathhouse Row was threatened as most of the historic bathhouses were vacant and are not being maintained. Some have had “damaging uses” contributing to the severe physical deterioration of the majority of the historic bathhouses. Bathhouse Row was added to the National Trust for Historic Preservation list of “11 Most Endangered Places” in 2003. It was removed in May 2007 because the National Park Service began to rehabilitate the buildings. Hot Springs National Park now rents the renovated structures to commercial enterprises who submit an approved request for qualifications. The restoration of Bathhouse Row and commercial leasing of public structures has become a model for similar projects across the country.”
In 2007 the NPS began to rehabilitate the buildings? You mean, like, these abandoned buildings I photographed a few weeks ago? Of which there were plenty more.
Very clearly not being renovated, not even a little!
So, they say Bathhouse Row will be a model for similar projects across the country, eh? My guess that is a model for how to. . . stall, defraud, gaslight, loot, and plunder, all while spinning a positive image of public care and service.
As a case in point there’s the demolished Majestic Hotel Resort Complex where I walked among the ruins.
There’s even been a documentary on the ‘controversial’ decision to demolish it by a young filmmaker who is making his career in filming abandoned buildings. He certainly has a long and busy career ahead of him! The Abandoned Atlas Foundation.
So I paid the few dollars to watch his story about the destruction of the once glorious Majestic Hotel and the (pathetically meager) attempt of a few locals to stop it.
An online historic photo of the multiple-acre Majestic Hotel Complex
A few interesting points I learned from the film:
The Majestic was sold for $1.00 (One Dollar) with the legal agreement that it would be repaired and reopened within a few years. That did not happen, though no problem for the buyer, he incurred no punishment and resold the abandoned buildings for a cool $2 mill. What does he care?
Our hands are tied, a few locals cry! The city is run by the mafia!
Apparently the city has always been run by the Mafia. Which makes perfect sense right, because the official story is the city went into major and rapid decline as soon as gambling was made illegal. So, we went from pristine health resort, to rich and famous gambling haven, to neglect and dilapidation within just a few decades.
My those gangsters and gamblers were sure able to fill a lot of hotels!
Seeing what an enormous challenge they had to save this architectural gem, they bring in the big guns to fend off this centuries-long all-powerful Mafia, which apparently still runs this neglected National Historic treasure that is Bathhouse Row in the middle of a National Park: An Asian ‘local’ historian who barely speaks English, a novice documentarian who waxes romantic over logoed plastic pens from a decade ago, a full-time nurse wannabe local politician, and some clueless young architecture students from another state.
Brilliant! I can’t believe that didn’t work!
The documentary does not answer any of the questions I would’ve asked, but then, they never do. Questions like:
What happened to all those red and yellow bricks? As well as all the other artifacts, that is, besides those awesome plastic pens the filmmaker found. And, where did the materials come from to build all that in the first place? That’s an awful lot of infrastructure to build into the sides of mountains at a time when local folks were mostly moving around in horse-drawn carts.
And why were They (the Mafia?) so keen on destroying it all? What do they care about some old buildings anyway, considering demolition costs are super expensive?
While the documentarian gushes at his found pens, he misses every other clue and congratulates himself and his fellows for creating an everlasting tribute to yet another ruined structure.
Poor sod, didn’t you ever learn you must . . . Follow the yellow brick road?
“Originally named the Avenue Hotel, the Majestic was built in 1882 on the site of the old Hiram Whittington House. The Avenue Hotel was notable for its amenities such as streetcar service to transport guests to and from the bath houses every five minutes. In 1888, the Avenue Hotel was renamed the Majestic Hotel after the Majestic Stove Company of St. Louis, Missouri, though the precise connection is unclear.”
(Since it’s so unclear, good thing you chose to include it in your online information encyclopedia, such a fascinating unclear detail!)
Free speech can’t save us now, because there’s not enough people willing, or capable, of speaking freely from a place of wisdom and clarity. Just look what passes for encyclopedic facts these days.
The confiscated bricks, like our confiscated history, may as well be ground into the Smart Dust eternally absorbing the consciousness of the masses.
As we watch and record the destruction of our country As we wonder, how it has come to this As we wait for the next shoe to drop And the next Still, we remain Still As the deer in headlights Still As he charmed by the snake Still As she alarmed by her fate
Doomed As we watch and record the destruction of our lives As we wonder Still As we stop wondering Still We remain As the fox wanders by . . .
A fox occupying the ruins of the once Majestic Hotel and Bathhouse
We were taught in Economics 101 that we live in a market-based economy in the USA. They sometimes threw around the word ‘free market’ as well.
We were also taught it was our prosperity that allowed for so many choices in our free country, which itself was thanks to our progress.
Wonderful words that sound magical together: Progress and Prosperity
And this could almost make sense, it’s not exactly a lie, so it could almost be true.*. Except, we were taught another thing at the same time: We were taught that it is the customers who drive the market.
Now the lie becomes recognizable, because we can easily point to thousands of examples as to how it is not the case that the consumer drives the market.
Here are some of my preferred examples. Feel free to add more in the comments.
The Illusion of Choice
It’s not just thousands of breakfast cereals made up of the same toxic ingredients, but most of the food products available to the average consumer these days.
How about the good ole landline? Soon to be gone the way of the pay phone. We are told that folks just don’t want landlines anymore and so they will begin to discontinue them. California recently had a public backlash, but it won’t matter in the long run. Landlines will be discontinued for the plebs. That is those who haven’t already happily switched to a Smart surveillance system they carry everywhere.
In some cases, probably many, this will happen by forcing (coercing) customers into canceling their service. This is just ‘anecdotal evidence’ as they always say, whereas they have ‘the data’ which says the opposite.
It’s not that landline service has become increasingly poor over the last decade while the costs keep rising, as has happened to us and our neighbors. No, it’s market-driven scientific data that claims folks don’t want them anymore.
Lightbulbs. Low-flush toilets and low-flow shower heads. Wood-burning appliance restrictions and prohibitions. Gas can safety features. Smart washing machines. Electric cars. Sustainable Everything driving up energy costs. “Sin” taxes.
Your market-driven choice: Smart City or poverty
I have met very few folks who wanted any of these market-driven signs of our ever-improved Progress and Prosperity. But again, anecdotal.
Because they are ALL for the Environment, or our own good, of course. And the data says we want it.
Everything I want to do is illegal, like:
Sell raw milk Camembert at the Farmer’s Market (or anywhere else), distill our own whiskey, grow hemp, sell pork chops to our neighbors, refuse to pay taxes that fund wars and bail-out bankers or funds the research that floods our fields.
Behold the market-driven forces of weather modification!
But we are driven into Progress on the Big Bus of Bullshit called Prosperity (undefined term) by unseen forces (mostly unelected and completely unaccountable). Like magic!
Which brings me to my most obvious market-driven fantasy.
More like: Encyclopedia of Useless Myths
Out-of-print books
This one really aggravates me! There are plenty of glaring examples of the deliberate dumbing down of our media and our educational content. Here’s just one perfect example because it’s fresh on my mind from just today.
This book of utter herbal nonsense which I should probably burn on principle, is on its 22nd printing—Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs.
While Juliette de Bairacli Levy’s books of serious research and immense practical value are mostly out of print, or hard to find, in poor condition and/or expensive, or only available to read online (which I truly dislike, but there are no good public libraries around anymore and books are ridiculously over-priced and of course, I want to do my part for the trees. 😂)
A collector’s copy worth thousands proves there’s no interest whatsoever from the free market.
Why learn the practical magic of the actual benefits and remedies of the common Comfrey when it is demonized by Big Pharma and cajoled and belittled into its ‘fairy magic’ properties thanks to ‘trendy’ books dominating the marketplace, repeating drivel like:
“Worn or carried, Comfrey protects and ensures safety during travel. Also, tuck some into your suitcases so that they aren’t lost or stolen.”
Ah brilliant, so helpful! Our ancestors must’ve been loading up those trunks and buggies with their comfrey leaves. Is Cunningham’s book really worthy of 22 continuous reprints?
Or do folks buy this book for the same reason I did, because they were so desperate to learn practical wisdom about how our ancestors used herbs that they foolishly believed such a popular book must have something of value besides the pretty cover. Fool me once . . .
And in the meantime, arrest that old Amish man who fraudulently claimed his comfrey salve cures skin cancer (surely killing or maiming millions).
*Market-driven I’ve come to realize is a kind of Newspeak, because it has a double-meaning, similar to “stakeholder capitalism”—the market is not meant as in the agora, the market-place, you and I, but as in the stock market.
A few choice quotes from Juliette de Bairacli Levy who did not mince words about her views on modern medicine.
This excerpt is from 1952! It’s astounding to me that it’s only gotten worse in the last 70 years. They keep doubling-down, and the public keeps buying it up.
“The present-day farmer has been educated to consider disease as inevitable and the only scientific cure as being in the artificial remedies of the modern veterinary surgeon who through over-rigid orthodox training and himself under the influence of advertisement, is too often a mere vendor of the products of the vast and powerful chemical and serum manufacturers. For the vested interests in modern medicine are stupendous. Businessmen who have never owned an animal fatten like breeding toads upon the ailments of farm stock which need not know sickness at all if they had daily access to the herbs of the fields. The true farmer should cultivate his own medicines in his own fields, and he should not consider himself as being a farmer if he has to resort to outside help for keeping his animals in health, and healing them when in sickness. Science is providing the ruination of true farming; the only thing that I, and countless others, have noted as flourishing alongside science, is disease!—disease of the earth, disease of crops and disease of the animal and people who feed on the diseased produce.”
“Professor Szekely had declared emphatically, that the curing of the ailments of his patients is often a simple task in comparison with the freeing of their bodies from the accumulations of chemical drugs lodged in their tissues — the drugs derived from orthodox medical chemo-therapy, and from the poisons sprayed upon fruits and vegetables by the modern farmer, or placed in tinned and bottled foods as preservatives. Many of his patients are Americans, and in present-day America the chemist seems to be running amok, spraying and poisoning everything edible.” ~Juliette de Bairacli Levy, 1952, The Complete Herbal Handbook For Farm And Stable
The influence of advertisement, you say? Naw, can’t be that!
