SNORDELHANS: THE BIG BASS DRUMS OF WAR ARE BOOMING!

 

Narrated by Snordelhans
.
Written by By Les Visible

Reflections in a Petri Dish

May 18, 2012

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

Double, double, toil and trouble,

Petri dish boil and Petri Dish bubble.

Let's see, massive global economic failure, more so here, less so there, counterpointed with continuing revelations of massive financial malfeasance by the major players, check. 

ZATO, Zionist Atlantic Terror Organization, is in Chicago and so is Larry Silverstein's orc cousin. Rahm Anti-Emmanuel is in situ at the big board, check. 

The big bass drums of war are booming as the false flag is looming, check. 

MeK operatives are in place, while the man in blue is in your face, check. 

Yes, something is up. All the highly placed Zio Ogres are talking about Iran's last chance to stop doing what they're not doing, or face the wrath of those who are doing what they say they're not doing... check... check... check... same sex mate! (post dated, insensitive bon mot announcement in the retroactive).

Once again the image of the horny goats, which piss all over themselves, prior to coitus, raises its hoary head. It's not sex that has the cannibals all in a fever. It's the smell of blood. They want it so bad that they literally can taste it; these prehistoric sharks in the water, these bipedal piranha. 

Tearing, rending and burning, yes precious, that's what they likes.

Visions of metaphorical sugar plums dance in my head. I have a dream! I'm dreaming of a secret weapon that leaves a sea of fused glass right where it ought to be. I must apologize for that brief interlude of a red hazed insanity. 

The world has gone mad and there are none of us untouched.

I dream of the Earth swallowing them. 

I dream of the plug being pulled on their powers and deceptions. 

I dream of them running into the desert and crying out for the stones beneath their feet to cover them; for the mountains to fall on them.

I dream of a face of wrath, confronting them no matter which way they turn. 

I dream of surgical precision that finds its way into every boardroom and bank, every institution, where prostitution is the commerce of the day.

I dream of them being marched up the thirteen steps, dressed in fishnet stockings and plastic miniskirts. 

I dream of a man with a scythe, whose features are concealed beneath a hood, who pulls from his voluminous sleeves, a parchment upon which a litany of their crimes are inscribed. 

I dream of the words taking voice from an invisible source and thundering in the air with steroidal THX. 

I dream of wild eyed beings on snorting horses, galloping out of rents in the fabric of this twisted reality. 

I see the gleams dancing on their metal breastplates. 

I hear them crying out in an unknown tongue. 

I see the Earth opening and the faces of thousands upon thousands of animated dead, crying out for their company, like the final scene in Ghost.

They know their end approaches, but from where? 

Half of them deny this inescapable truth and half of them know that something has gone horribly wrong and it's not just them. Their apologists wring their hands,

“Masters, what can we do? We sold out our nations and gave you our children as blood sacrifices and you are not pleased. What is the matter? Please, take my wife”.

All the signs indicate some kind of mayhem is on the near horizon and that means in the next few weeks and days. I suppose this all deserves a kind of 'bent out of shape' admiration. 

They just keep on keeping on, killing stealing and raping household pets. If there is something nasty and infernal that they can get up to, they are already working on it. There's something sexual about it all. It's that kind of sexual excitement, where the passion is ratcheted up so high that something unintended is guaranteed to happen. 

It could be something like that premature ejaculation thing that makes serial killers a little angrier than they already are. 

Well, these are serial killers. It could be something like an intensity toward congress, with nothing but impotence below. It could be just one of those things where it isn't going to work, unless metal skewers and painful restraints are employed. Given that perversion is their normal, it's all too likely. 

I can see them masturbating over the images of burned and smoking forms of Palestinian children and well, any children they have the means and opportunity for, the motive is longstanding already.

Does some of this seem a little over the top, or a lot over the top? 

It isn't. 

In fact, it is worse than what is being said here. 

Anyone with the impetus to do a little research, can come up with crime after crime, some of them on a ginormous scale. The body of evidence covers more square acreage that the AIDS quilt. Only a very few people are saying anything about it because... those in a position to reach a wider audience, do not have the necessary confirmation that someone has their back AND they wouldn't be saying it very long in certain locales, which was the point of taking control of the media in the first place. 

The acquisition of so many critical things has been accomplished because there really is a conspiracy. You can see it playing out in real time AND because they control the currency printing presses. Amstel Rothschild’s quote says it all. But you can't say these things and shouldn't even call attention to them because it's anti something or other, even though they admit these things themselves.

Uh oh... here comes the shadow Masons and Illuminati that are pulling all of the strings of the hapless pawns. 

Wait a minute... who founded the Illuminati? 

I give up. None of it is in my hands anyway. I'm just an observer passing through. Got no plans on coming back here, especially given the time frame. They are marching to perdition (cue, “Marching to Pretoria” or “Marching to Zion” as you prefer). We be marching somewhere nowhere fast. They are leading themselves into the desert, after having created a desert. They'll be getting vinegar from rocks and manna from scorpions.

The race is on. Will they plunge the whole world into a global conflict or will they be stopped by someone or something? 

Will those in a position to turn upon them do so? 

What is going on and who is doing it is not in doubt. 

It is no more in doubt than who was behind the Afghanistan and Iraq incursions or who did 9/11 which set them up in the first place. I can hear the sighs from the Kumbaya crowd.

“Please, can't we talk about something else”? 

Talking about something else is like wishing to be somewhere else, while somewhere else is being wiped out by the ones we are talking about.

It must be nice and convenient for the new age crowd and their solid awareness of advaita. You can walk around in your fantasy landscapes, unified with everything and money in the bank. No one on that circuit talks about these things because then they won't let them on the circuit. No one talks about these things on stage, because they won't let you onstage except, sometimes, some people do. 

The thing about awakening, is that it forces certain considerations before your eyes. It is the purpose of the awakening to begin with, to bring your attention to certain things. 

This is another reason for that race against time. Meanwhile their financial voodoo has got Baron Samedi tripping around behind the walls and the dropped ceilings and making things hot for the ones who brought it all about.

What's going on behind the scenes is way more dramatic than what is happening in front of you. 

There's a force loose in the moment that is pulling levers and pushing buttons that vested interests don't want pulled or pushed. There's a joker in the deck and the joker works for the big dealer who owns the house that we play cards in. 

Everything is arranged for the purpose of demonstration and an unfortunate demonstration it is, in various locations, where the demonstration is committed to 'go down' a particular way.

About now, the finger pointing is going to start in earnest. 

Sewer rats are scrambling all over the place trying to squeeze just a little more out of the system before they hightail it out of town. They're in the position of a monkey, with his hand in the vase, holding on to the avocado or mango that he wants and can't let loose of. 

In The Apocalypse, there is a point where things begin to speed up and the curve of descent becomes much sharper. There is where we are. Things can be held together with chewing gum and duct tape for only so long. Sooner or later the whole stinking mess comes apart.

Unnoticed by many, a new world is emerging for the purpose of continuance, in those case where continuing is in the cards.

If there were an Ides of May, we would be entering them now. The next three weeks should see the world transformed in all kinds of ways. “I'm no prophet and here's no great matter”. Still, I must say that the multiplicity of signs are pretty intense. 

That little Kadima maneuver certainly smacks of a sooner rather than later time table. Of course, the longer you wait, the better defensed are the people you are intending to destroy for no legitimate reason. Then again, I am certain that there are things the aggressors don't know. 

Oh, there are a whole lot of things they don't know and then there's all that scurrying around in haste, as if so many things had to get done real soon; something to think about when you're alone in your room.

End Transmission.......

DOGPOET: YOU MIGHT NOT FEEL IT BUT YOUR CHILDREN WILL.

Les Visible

Reflections in a Petri Dish

January 07, 2012

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

Where have we been; fast asleep in the belly of the beast, drunk on the digestive juices of Wall Street monsters, Israeli, vampire siphon machines; suck you up like a McDonald's milkshake baby.

If you can't handle the stink, stay out of the cistern. The banker bully boys came here from Clockwork Orange, multitasking with motorcycle boots and attendant orgasms. These are the real cartels; the insatiable military and the corporate hounds, the government Sandusky kids and the bloodstained clowns from the Rothschild breakfast table, who keep making the rounds while confirming the kill.

You may not feel it but your children will.

You may not feel it but your children will.

All over the planet the migration has begun, as the elementals go into action and climb out of their sleeping beds. Nature is throwing off her chains and seething with rage at a handful of punks in three piece suits and the vast army of stupid and indifferent that made their job easy; that sat on the sidelines or carried the freight and abused friends and family with smoldering hate; yeah, that's just Love suppressed.

Thank god for allopathic, symptomatic compounds that make it possible to conceal what we are really feeling, to hide it under fronts of resentment and futile anger at those closest to us, while our cowardice and appetites put paid to the license granted to our oppressors.

Indifference to sunlight does not mute or alter its disinfectant quality. It's going to slip in to your dark, migraine evasive, bedrooms and find you anyway. Ask yourself why your head hurts in the first place.

If you don't turn your attention to the source of what is assaulting you, it has nowhere to go except to turn back upon yourself or those closest to you.

If you can't control your own mind, you can't control your behavior.

That makes you an uninformed servant of your own distress, at the hands of those who get high being employed at it.

If you don't care who leads you then you probably don't care where you wind up, or simply have lost the capacity to add two and two, which, according to natural law, results in the arrival of a two by four, just to let you know that the cosmos can still count.

The hand of the cosmos is Nature in action and if you don't pay attention she'll put you in traction.

It's not personal; it's the business of the system that orders the degree of presence and performance that determines the itinerary. “Good evening, I'll be your elevator operator; going down, or would you prefer to see a menu”?

You can think of your life as a Chinese restaurant; no substitutions. I know you were all about the concept of infinite choice. That's how you got all that technology, gadgets and things that keep your mind off the approaching transition. It's an old story. It's happened before. Things just got out of hand and then were no more.
The news isn't good.

Good news doesn't sell.

What did you expect besides resident Hell?

On Wal-mart, on Blackheart, Monsanto and Blitzen, on Vatican, Dupont and Kentucky Fried Chicken, the season is here, the spirit is missing. 

Meanwhile... meanwhile, it's all about where it's okay to put your dick.

It's all about celebrating the things that make you sick.

It's all about control and regimentation.

It's all reaction and the right to maim and kill.

You may not feel it but your children will.

How did it get like this? /

How did life become such a drag?

Who shot up the hamster with amphetamine?

Who poisoned the well?

Who's doing it now?

Who got together with the worst of us to come down on our heads?

Who put creed against creed and color against color?

Who's making the money from the carnage and ruin?

Who's selling you fear about people you don't even know?

Who did what got blamed on the people we bombed?

Who put a boogeyman under your bed?

Who made crime so attractive and armed the cartels?

Who made ordinary folk into dysfunctional trolls?

Who made the cops mean?

Who corrupted the priests?

Who made one big cluster-fuck nightmare from Round-Up and Ready Whip?

Who taught you false history?

Who created the river of darkness that runs under the ship of state?

Who created god from a toilet and taught you to worship it?

Flush once for a wake-up and twice for a hair from the bad dog that bit you and you're almost there.

You're almost there.

You probably don't feel it but your children don't care.

Nothing is what it seems. The reality of the misidentified is actually an expression of two interfacing spirals that have created a temporary 'no man's land' between them. Think of an enduring period of false dawn or transformative dusk, a place where you can see shapes in movement but cannot accurately or even generically identify them.

This is a time of strange magnetisms, accompanied by the usual labels, no longer being meaningful. In former times, people and things behaved according to the definitions they operated under. A conservative was usually a conservative and a liberal a liberal. This is no longer the case.

As for the magnetisms, new attractive forces are presenting themselves and people are behaving under compulsions contrary to their basic nature; being overwhelmed by forces and conditions whose power comes about due to one's sense of self having deteriorated to the point that they no longer know who they are.

Voluntary and cooperative change assure a ready identification in transition. Forced and uncooperative change results in a partial or total destruction of the cognitive self in terms of their capacity to recognize the states into which they are being transported.

Imagine Rick Santorum on acid in an Indian temple; not a bad thing actually, provided he never goes back to being who he was and I don't even care if he can remember but... I digress.

People are all focused on external events and are missing the activation of the resonance of an entirely new atmosphere of being. People are paranoid about what's coming and unaware of whom it is that it might happen to.

People are finding that the need of their appetites increase, in advance of the arrival of a time in which they can no longer satisfy them. This accounts for one of the spirals. “Your job, should you choose to accept it”, is to figure out what's going on in the other spiral.

“Remember, if you or any of your team are captured, we will disavow any knowledge of” your not having cared enough to become invisible to the suck holes, seeking to swallow you up in an entropic slumber; not everyone gets to be, or wants to be-come a fly trapped in amber but we do have a larger list of candidates than in previous years.

The whole thing is about fear and uncertainty. It paralyzes you. It turns you into a deer in the headlights. You've made the men in the shadows powerful because your fear is the Viagra that inspires their abuse.

You won't collect and congregate with your fellows, so they will pick you off one by one and put you in jumpsuits with single digit numbers on them. You seem incapable of stepping away from the levers and buttons of your own destruction. The last thing you will see is your fingerprint holographically shimmering over the words, “Fuck me, I'm a fool” on the press panel you thought was going to open the door to some brothel in your head.

Everyone gets challenged about whether they care about what happens to the people around them. It's set up that way.

Everyone is worried what the devil's going to think. . You don't want to piss him off and make him angry. The result of that is even worse than you think.

Meanwhile you want to stay away from that crazy guy who's talking to himself. Just because you've been deaf for the last twenty years you think he's all alone. Just like it is in the Six Kinds of Shit Amusement Park of usual life, it's not what you know, it's who you know and true light casts no shadows nor entertains them at his house. You want to be afraid of someone who hates you? You think your fear is some kind of a way out? Is that how it worked out on the playground? Did it get you into Yale?

Sure some are born to serve the darkness and they got certain schools for that but... if you're not 'chosen' for it they will sniff you out.

One needs to understand how the darkness operates in order to command what lives in the deep.

Were you put here to be a dung beetle just so you could climb to the top of the heap? You have to know what you actually are. Good or evil is not the point. Self identification is the point.

All these people going the wrong way have created a tailwind and a slipstream.

Are you a Volkswagen behind a double lorry?

Are you a high born creation going in reverse?

First you must overcome fear. Then you have to walk in the empty lands. Then you have to make a connection or you will die by your own hand. It's all suicide after all. It's okay to be the bad guy if that IS what you ARE but if you're not Old Scratch can smell you and he'll tell his people what's going on. That's what you get for trying to fit in when you could be long gone. Better tend to that itch and use it like a generator on a bicycle at night. If you're not in movement you can use it to turn on the lights in your head.

Yes, there's been point and motive all through this poor address. . You can't say these things directly, it's peripheral at best. You can accommodate your injury till you can't even feel a thing.

This is how it gets for people who hurt others once their sensitivity is dead. The sins of the initiator send their children into time and they all show up together further down the line.

End Transmission.......

YOU MIGHT NOT FEEL IT BUT YOUR CHILDREN WILL.

By Les Visible

REFLECTIONS IN A PETRI DISH

January 07, 2012

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

Where have we been; fast asleep in the belly of the beast, drunk on the digestive juices of Wall Street monsters, Israeli, vampire siphon machines; suck you up like a McDonald's milkshake baby.

If you can't handle the stink, stay out of the cistern.

The banker bully boys came here from Clockwork Orange, multitasking with motorcycle boots and attendant orgasms. These are the real cartels; the insatiable military and the corporate hounds, the government Sandusky kids and the bloodstained clowns from the Rothschild breakfast table, who keep making the rounds while confirming the kill. 

You may not feel it but your children will.

You may not feel it but your children will.

All over the planet the migration has begun, as the elementals go into action and climb out of their sleeping beds.

Nature is throwing off her chains and seething with rage at a handful of punks in three piece suits and the vast army of stupid and indifferent that made their job easy; that sat on the sidelines or carried the freight and abused friends and family with smoldering hate; yeah, that's just Love suppressed.

Thank god for allopathic, symptomatic compounds that make it possible to conceal what we are really feeling, to hide it under fronts of resentment and futile anger at those closest to us, while our cowardice and appetites put paid to the license granted to our oppressors.

Indifference to sunlight does not mute or alter its disinfectant quality. It's going to slip in to your dark, migraine evasive, bedrooms and find you anyway.

Ask yourself why your head hurts in the first place. If you don't turn your attention to the source of what is assaulting you, it has nowhere to go except to turn back upon yourself or those closest to you.

If you can't control your own mind, you can't control your behavior.

That makes you an uninformed servant of your own distress,

at the hands of those who get high being employed at it.

If you don't care who leads you then you probably don't care where you wind up, or simply have lost the capacity to add two and two, which, according to natural law, results in the arrival of a two by four, just to let you know that the cosmos can still count.

The hand of the cosmos is Nature in action and if you don't pay attention she'll put you in traction.

It's not personal, it's the business of the system that orders the degree of presence and performance that determines the itinerary.

“Good evening, I'll be your elevator operator; going down, or would you prefer to see a menu”?

You can think of your life as a Chinese restaurant; no substitutions. I know you were all about the concept of infinite choice.

That's how you got all that technology, gadgets and things that keep your mind off the approaching transition. 

It's a old story. 

It's happened before. 

Things just got out of hand and then were no more.

The news isn't good.

Good news doesn't sell. 

What did you expect besides resident Hell?

On Wal-mart, on Blackheart, Monsanto and Blitzen, on Vatican, Dupont and Kentucky Fried Chicken, the season is here, the spirit is missing.

Meanwhile... meanwhile, it's all about where it's okay to put your dick. It's all about celebrating the things that make you sick.

It's all about control and regimentation.

It's all reaction and the right to maim and kill.

You may not feel it but your children will.

How did it get like this?

How did life become such a drag?

Who shot up the hamster with amphetamine?

Who poisoned the well?

Who did it in Palestine?

Who's doing it now?

Who got together with the worst of us to come down on our heads?

Who put creed against creed and color against color?

Who's making the money from the carnage and ruin?

Who's selling you fear about people you don't even know?

Who did what got blamed on the people we bombed?

Who put a boogeyman under your bed?

Who made crime so attractive and armed the cartels?

Who made ordinary folk into dysfunctional trolls?

Who made the cops mean?

Who corrupted the priests?

Who made one big cluster-fuck nightmare

from Round-Up and Ready Whip?

Who taught you false history?

Who created the river of darkness that runs under the ship of state?

Who created god from a toilet and taught you to worship it?

Flush once for a wake-up and twice for a hair

from the bad dog that bit you and you're almost there.

You're almost there.

You probably don't feel it but your children don't care.

Nothing is what it seems. The reality of the misidentified is actually an expression of two interfacing spirals that have created a temporary 'no man's land' between them.

Think of an enduring period of false dawn or transformative dusk, a place where you can see shapes in movement but cannot accurately or even generically identify them.

This is a time of strange magnetisms, accompanied by the usual labels, no longer being meaningful.

In former times, people and things behaved according to the definitions they operated under. A conservative was usually a conservative and a liberal a liberal. This is no longer the case. As for the magnetisms, new attractive forces are presenting themselves and people are behaving under compulsions contrary to their basic nature; being overwhelmed by forces and conditions whose power comes about due to one's sense of self having deteriorated to the point that they no longer know who they are.

Voluntary and cooperative change assure a ready identification in transition. Forced and uncooperative change results in a partial or total destruction of the cognitive self in terms of their capacity to recognize the states into which they are being transported.

Imagine Rick Santorum on acid in an Indian temple; not a bad thing actually, provided he never goes back to being who he was and I don't even care if he can remember but... I digress.

People are all focused on external events and are missing the activation of the resonance of an entirely new atmosphere of being.

People are paranoid about what's coming and unaware of whom it is that it might happen to.

People are finding that the need of their appetites increase, in advance of the arrival of a time in which they can no longer satisfy them. This accounts for one of the spirals.

“Your job, should you choose to accept it”, is to figure out what's going on in the other spiral.

“Remember, if you or any of your team are captured, we will disavow any knowledge of” you’re not having cared enough to become invisible to the suck holes, seeking to swallow you up in an entropic slumber; not everyone gets to be, or wants to be-come a fly trapped in amber but we do have a larger list of candidates than in previous years.

The whole thing is about fear and uncertainty. 

It paralyzes you.

It turns you into a deer in the headlights.

You've made the men in the shadows powerful because your fear is the Viagra that inspires their abuse.

You won't collect and congregate with your fellows, so they will pick you off one by one and put you in jumpsuits with single digit numbers on them.

You seem incapable of stepping away from the levers and buttons of your own destruction. The last thing you will see is your fingerprint holographically shimmering over the words, “Fuck me, I'm a fool” on the press panel you thought was going to open the door to some brothel in your head.

Everyone gets challenged about whether they care about what happens to the people around them.

It's set up that way.

Everyone is worried what the devil's going to think.

You don't want to piss him off and make him angry.

The result of that is even worse than you think.

Meanwhile you want to stay away from that crazy guy who's talking to himself.

Just because you've been deaf for the last twenty years you think he's all alone. Just like it is in the Six Kinds of Shit Amusement Park of usual life, it's not what you know, it's who you know and true light casts no shadows nor entertains them at his house.

You want to be afraid of someone who hates you? You think your fear is some kind of a way out? Is that how it worked out on the playground? Did it get you into Yale?

Sure some are born to serve the darkness and they got certain schools for that but... if you're not 'chosen' for it they will sniff you out. One needs to understand how the darkness operates in order to command what lives in the deep.

Were you put here to be a dung beetle just so you could climb to the top of the heap?

You have to know what you actually are.

Good or evil is not the point.

Self identification is the point.

All these people going the wrong way have created a tailwind and a slipstream.

Are you a Volkswagen behind a double lorry?

Are you a high born creation going in reverse?

First you must overcome fear.

Then you have to walk in the empty lands.

Then you have to make a connection or you will die by your own hand.

It's all suicide after all.

It's okay to be the bad guy if that IS what you ARE but if you're not Old Scratch can smell you and he'll tell his people what's going on.

That's what you get for trying to fit in when you could be long gone. Better tend to that itch and use it like a generator on a bicycle at night.

If you're not in movement you can use it to turn on the lights in your head.

Yes, there's been point and motive all through this poor address.

You can't say these things directly, it's peripheral at best. You can accommodate your injury till you can't even feel a thing. This is how it gets for people who hurt others once their sensitivity is dead.

The sins of the initiator send their children into time and they all show up together further down the line.

End Transmission.......

DOGPOET: THE FORCES OF THE LAST GASP, ON MEAT STREET.

This is the DogPoet at his best, narrated by the inimitable Snordelhans, accompanied by a mesmerizing film.  This is an awesome piece. The text is below.

By Les Visible 

Reflections in a Petri Dish

November 15, 2011

November 15, 2011

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

Occupy Wall Street, by way of Occupy Fleet Street, is turning into, You're all Meat Street. As expected, The Forces of the Last Gasp have dispatched their faceless, assault bots, with their black motorcycle helmets into the parks, plazas and sidewalks of this debauched culture and looted landscape; into the dying cities of materialism, on their homeward bound course, which is the eventual destiny of this particular format, marching into its own particular entropy, which is its final destination.

Imperialism has its denouement, as do all of the other temporary forms, grafted on to the original tribal state.

Every one of these systems has their perversion specialists and money manipulation experts and we know who they are in present day, in tandem with it being, “same as it ever was”.

The police and the military work for the money men.

The perversion specialists warp the culture through facetious and gratuitous laws that transform perception by legal decree; it's the law, it must be right. The police and military are those whose conscience has adapted itself to the performance of any and every outrage in exchange for a paycheck.

They are enforcing the law and the law must be right.

Meanwhile, there are those in the police and military, who still retain a semblance of conscience and know they are being screwed the same way as those they are hammering with their batons.

In this time of awakening, many with guns in their hands are waking up to the injustice of the torture and murder of goat-herders and villagers in foreign lands. They did it for the bankers and bankrupt slogans, whether it is Semper Fi, Seig Heil or In Hoc Signo Vinces.

There are no parasites as insidious, vile, venal and cold as the bankers.

They are the original satanists.

Stop the bankers and you stop the clocks, you stop the wars, you stop the poverty, you stop the inequality, you stop every evil financed by them and they are considerable.

It's a simple thing, the same way that the war against the Muslims is about Muslim bankers not charging interest because Usury is the king of pain in the lands of the oppressed that extend from sea to poisoned sea; also courtesy of the bankers, who never met an environmental disaster they didn't like.

First they destroy it and then they muster another industry that pretends to clean it up.

They manufacture diseases in order to make the practice of medicine a high profit industry.

They manufacture laws that make the private prison industry a high profit scam.

They destroy the educational system to graduate ignorance and stupidity for the purpose of assimilating propaganda and social control.

They take every potentially good thing and rework it for maximum profit.

They outlaw every positive methodology, to destroy the possibility of competition, with the varieties of bad shit that interfaces with all kinds of other bad shit that has put us all in the shit where we are now.

It's a simple thing people.

Let's look at the pharmaceutical industry by example. The pharmaceutical industry kills and makes infirm more people that the illegal drug industry has ever done since back in the day when they were providing all of the drugs that are now illegal.

I'm pretty convinced that The Harrison Act came about because certain forces, in the bed with international bankers, saw how much profit could be gained from opium once it was prohibited. To comprehend why that is you only have to go back and study The Boxer Rebellion and The Opium Wars and the results and you can fast forward to The Afghanistan War if you like as well.

Of interest, is the fact that part of the Boxer Rebellion was about the influx of the satanic Christian missionaries into Chinese culture. There are two Christianities, always keep that in mind and one of them has nothing to do with Jesus Christ.

Okay; western medicine is allopathic.

That means it treats the symptoms and not the cause.

Who is the biggest purveyor of symptom suppressants and sundry?

Why, that would be the pharmaceutical industry.

Who profits from shutting down all natural healing techniques and substances?

Why, that would be the pharmaceutical industry.

I want to show you how wide the net of vicious enterprise extends. I suppose I am speculating a bit here now, but given all we know, it sounds as plausible as anything. 

What industry is most responsible for poor health on the part of the western populations?

That would be the food industry in tandem with the chemical industry. Hmmm, isn't the pharmaceutical part of the chemical industry?

The food industry employs researchers and scientists to mess around with the dynamics of Lady Nature.

They employ financial experts to figure out how to lower costs and maximize profits, which means using palm oil and soy oil instead of more expensive but healthier components.

Now, consider the sweetener substitutes that I don't actually have to get into.

Extrapolate out into genetically modified foods and let your imagination take you on an excursion of speculation.

Now, consider that those who invest in the food industry are almost certainly involved in the pharmaceutical industry and the medical industry and you can suppose, assume, or outright claim that there is little doubt that they make food which makes people sick, to send profits to another arm of the bloodsucking octopus that straddles the globe but; there's no conspiracy.

Nah, there's no conspiracy among the money men around to world to maintain this abusive system and to look for new ways to make it worse, if only there is some greater profit to be gained.

Every religion except for the one that operates under The Talmud, espouses mercy, charity, peacefulness, compassion and attendant virtues, yet... yet... what do we see promoted from the pernicious pulpits by the twisted priests of most of them?

Why are we in a time of religious wars that serve the interests of bankers?

Look to your ministers people.

Look to your philosophers and pundits of the moment who are given so much media face time by the people who own the media for one reason; to keep the truth buried under a landfill of lies for the purpose of profit.

In a time of darkness, the mind of darkness is preeminent, via the reports of the senses and the propensities of the mind and heart of the one interpreting them.

Factor in the mass mind and peer pressure and you have a dark and viscous soup, as sticky as tar and difficult to extricate from. 

It's no wonder that people feel trapped, have given up, or are completely unaware of what is happening to them.

If it were not for the benevolence of the cosmos and the appearance of Mr. Apocalypse with his walking stick, we'd be toast.

It's not an accident that Rick Perry forgot his lines at the debate.

It's no surprise that Strauss Khan is much deeper into the goblin night than just being a serial abuser.

It's no surprise that so many things are coming to light and that the efforts of the damned are being frustrated at every turn. 

Some would say, 

“No, they had all of this planned a long time ago. They can't be stopped.” 

I beg to differ and I submit that no one has ever pulled it off in recorded history and not before that either. It always gets to a place like this first.

The place of the summing up.

The Sandusky Affair, which will prove to connect all over the place, to all sorts of people, has been exposed by a tap from Mr. Apocalypse's walking stick. Mr. Apocalypse is dancing across the world's stage like Gene Kelly. He's singing in the rain. He's wearing mirror shades. He's humming an old Robert Johnson tune. He's on his way to the crossroads to collect on some debts.

It is a wonderful irony that those who have spent their lifetimes putting people into debt and operating off the principle of debt, are now going to find themselves very, very deeply in debt and unable to resolve it, except in a most timeless and ancient fashion.

It's all under control and beautifully so.

There's nothing unpredictable, except for those of us, most of us, who can't predict what is coming because; why spoil the surprise?

In the meantime, that uncertainty is meant to provoke and inspire us to be better than we might have been in the process.

Keep holding the truth to be self evident and it will certainly become so, sooner or later, once it burns away the rubbish and rags that conceal it.

It's all about the right kind of desire and aspiration.

This is what burns away the veils.

Some say that passionlessness is the key but that's just another way up the mountain. You're either climbing it or you are at the base camp arguing with the experts.

End Transmission.....