Wednesday, October 1



Simply use their stage to do YOUR new show. The cubes are there,  just put your sugar in, honey. I'm telling you, watch this work wonders. I dare you defy any longer now the potential personal magic you give away every newsfed highway used up day your Sol down the shitter paycheck ass in seat to Friday goes away. And someone else uses up all your potential.

Your utterance of this potion captures the attention of the little daimons waiting around so much more than network packets anywhere after DIM in compilation. They are so bored.

THE WORLD WILL CHANGE INSTANTLY Your overheard incantation will be everywhere in no short time at all. When the janitor or the dycleaner or someone in the elevator says it, just smile ear to ear. All that happens next in your former tiny world will be NEW.

The Prime Mover apparently Shaker, too. So here's what you do...

Your p9st-modern It's like a Robin Batmanny Holy hyphen phrase to indicate to the Audience the deep significance of a mundane event in an Epic continuing saga. Remember, you are merely delivering an alarm for the main Hero so the urgency of voice is essential but impersonal enoughbfor those in the back row or two cubes away to pick up.  You can not, you MUST not, be at all shy.

You must be a master at when to grab the wit for this too. The SILENCE must precede. The heavy deadspace hell we all transverse in that 2:30 to just after 4:00 each day works best. That moment we ask "hey did we just all vanish?"

After a significant pause post meeting (but within the company of those assembled) when you specifically have a "takeaway" just scream it every once in a while on random days at work while working on said task and watch a Virus do its job. I dare you.

Crappy Trails to You

They all say planes always had white trails. Okay, I say. 

SQUINT now, remember hard. Did the thin short lines ever stick around to make fat long CLOUDS? Even when they crisscrossed?

Thank you. 

There never was a putt-putt plane choo-choo making puffy smoke tracks behind it in a cartoon sky.  

And you know it. 

They stayed behind a jet like a boat wake.  Went with it moving, gone with the plane. Persistent in trail is one thing, sure  -- forty million reports of it suddenly from all across the globe,  another.

The only con is densation of the Reign.       

Sunday, March 9

Book Order

Oh well that's Orwell I see the dirty trick. Huxley it should have been, the reinforcer our common herded fear some new rise of same ol' thing it's ever only been.

Forget the N it's just the WO again. Ooooh, how very Illuminaughty of you, IQ! Not my fancy preppie car there, no sir, I drive the BNW.

Year? Why, 1984!

Yes ours is a "Brave New World" as in brazen more the Order. So Soma dear, take me home to dream of Juila tonight.

Monday, February 10

The Temple is Built But the Pillars Weak

Didn't They Just Have a Movie Called Skyfall?

Well Chickens Little, cast your eyes on this one. 

Geongineering is real, and it's the official
Science word for their false nonstarter "chemtrail." The word means
mechanical Nature, as in man above God. Get enraged. SHARE.

This quick doco is legit & rife with the info and charts and endorsements
to prove it more than military thermite denied at WTC. Open your eyes!
Or surely soon they all will be closed for good. Media is in on it
folks... by intentionally NOT covering stories on it that come out. A
PLANNED ecosystem collapse.

He's got the facts. It's real and
been proven so look up, shut up, and WAKE UP. US admits bio warfare. 16
Global Scientists scared as hell. Even the UN says it knows after Russia
insisted it put out a report. Three countries at war above us in the

Oh well.

The rest of my rant below is only
for those who know something's up for sure, and are curious enough to
want to read on and connect the deadly dots of Truth for themselves. And
hopefully add voice and influence.

Anyone else dismissing with
selective words is gone already, and I hope you recognize the sticks
and stones hurled were piled up for you as the pendulum swung before
your sheepish eyes last when you too were awake.

Good luck everyone.

Let's take back the sky so we can at least still look up and dream.
There is nothing else left after that. "Look up" on Google will never
feed the crave of soul as does blue sky.


Thank you. If you care at all about the uprising now that's really here
whether (weather) or not you like it, let's just join in small factions
to get this out there. No protest or pointing to the sky. Just share
and observe.

For you now enter the Fairy Tale my friends, and
the only lion talking around here ain't no closet case but one for
Grocery. It ain't the government.

New World Order? Ha! One has
always been. One will always be. That's the oldest trick as you die to
make the day every day for them in a fairy tale of morbid inhuman
planetary proportion. Just because they can.

There is no one
government big enough to screw with the whole sky and ozone layer
without ever caring about or talking to you. You don't matter. That
should scare you alone. Even the news won't tell. Whistleblowers die.
EPA a ruse. True scientists stifled. Media manipulation. Money can do
all of this. The sky's the limit!

Everything a mocking joke to you the dolt not in.

And you should be raving mad! Millionaires run "governments" and now
peasants, they're cooking up a storm for you! It's that simple; it's
that sickening. And it's true. It's TRUE.

They make the weather
right above you with smoke and metal and magnet stations all over. The
Jet Stream and Gulf Stream change course at will. Drones are the Red
herrings of remote control death. Birds drop out of the sky in droves
and the bees are dead! Ocean life choking... the bottom of the food
chain (ha!) almost gone. Just look how they name the killer storms after
their epic Mystery gods. You see that at least. Many poor nations
drown. Radiation is up exponentially.

The one percent, the
elite, whatever we want to call them. Who cares. What about you? Right
now. What about YOU? Whenever you look up and see either the milky
stringy noncloud skies, or the tic tax toe planestripes in bluesky the
dolts say always did that, or worse - spraying in progress in multiple
parallel and simultaneous altitude at sunset... you should cry.

For they're dropping bombs on you that you drive between denial and
next exit. And when it goes there'll be no time for tears. Or regrets.
Or even Heaven I'm afraid. That's the staircase they took out first.
Owl Father who Art in Heaven.

Bohemian Grove begins the
slaughter and Marx marches home in that mural three panels of dropjaw
banklobby high in gold trim for only execs to know. Let's go.

Tuesday, February 4

National Reservation

Ethnicity is different than Religion, for one is BELIEF, the other PLACE FROM WHICH YOU CAME.

So be careful when a churchcap calls you a racist with an "anti-" caption bigger than the World Atlas.

Thursday, January 23

Scripty Typefaces, Swastika to Tilt What They Called a Star

This clip is an interesting and accurate snippet that can be used for decoding the slaughterhouse gene pool within you, and allow a little more Divine to come up through the Bovine it was bred to be. Knowing history is essential to the modern day manufactured consent about Town, and when you put it all together they will brand you Revisionist. I prefer "edited for accuracy" myself, but hey, I don't control the words now do I?

Wow huh? Consider that the hills were indeed alive with MUCH more than the sound of music, and maybe Weinerschnitzel attic spaces may not have been so girly a hiding space after all, but instead lonely prisons to those poor bastards in their own occupied country houses. Nuns who know of distributor caps surely are spies, that's all I'm sayin' sister.

Just watching the Hitler Channel... or History Channel to NFL fans, the evidence is overwhelmingly present to the wise observer. The sheer plethora of black and white newsRael footage made so easily available to documentarian archivists, under I'm sure, no corporate sponsor, is logically infeasible and subjectively insipid at best for any narrative. Endless streams of thundering jackboots marching nearly on top of some woeful camera boy on the ground filming it, every day there out in the sun. Dream job I know, but nonetheless obvious Communist militant propaganda at hand and.. foot.

To start with, having been a cameraman and filmmaker myself, it just doesn't make any sense how it was captured, or why even (they will say brilliant propagandists were at work and BRAVO there it is again - sinister shadows grinning back in the mirror of words), and so redundantly at that. Imagine your are a film student or some granola guy really interested in the revels of History, peering through the browning pages of B-roll footage indexes in a musty dark room off Sunset on hot July Hollywood afternoon. If only you could find some background transitional stuff.

Oh, here's some great cuts here.. Look at this find! The reel titles go:




And on and on. There is homage to this device we can all instantly relate to. George Orwell froze this psychological semiotic trick nicely into the collective unconscious with a nice dancestep in his "No-not-about-1948-at-all" novel that the Texas Repository required to be fed generations of public schoolchildren for insult and Magick.  We all remember the line, and it's no mistake we do. After all, the world's right there at your feet. Just boot up the PC.

Orwell, that masterful genius in Eric Blair witness to trenches of almost supernatural carnage in WWI, said, through character of course, that the Party had but one vision for all of mankind going forward together. It's almost as good as "Work Shall Set You Free" up there on the entry arches to the concentration camp gates forgotten during the first TRUE Holocaust in Russian revolutionary times. The endless blood sacrifices required for that God that like choosy moms chooses JIF indeed. The lofty ELITE ideal of human collectivism is captured thusly:


I sure did, after getting by the stamp/stomp thing of course. Wowza. As I easily now recognize this was my filmstrip played like a mobile over my babycrib, pacifier of lugs into puberty pursued, its percussive pounding to Earth bipedal supreme the underdog runs daily through my mind with even the clicky sounds of the projector. That's my thing. But because it is - oh Pandora! The infectious sprites people find flying around me! Nike! Osiris! I do ponder at the layman never going back to that phrase though and really dissecting it for the power it truly has within. Or realizing like the Warhol one history has missed something BIG in its idle interpretation through repetition.

For instance, WHO is wearing this boot? "A" boot makes it seem so ... empty. Devoid of foot, of person, of spearing trajectory and hateful intent, like a tire on a big car. Surely, another human is wearing this boot, no? So... wait a minute now... what kind of human could do such a thing? An agent of State authority? Really?

Some cop in a jumpsuit who gets off at 11:00?

"Ah, what a day (yawn)," at the kitchen table at night. "Big day tomorrow - so many many faces to stomp STOMP STOMP. Oh well, off to bed," he says, laying the people killers down, somehow magically clean now, on the bedroom hardboards aside the printed quilts of peace, his holy socks dangling above, in sweet slumber.

Tuesday, January 21

The Human Race is OVER


Please watch - it will take some time but sit through it and listen this time. This is a brilliantly edited social media mashup - not a film. All the ingredients came from this Tube called You. Humanity. Mankind. Brothers and Sisters. My fellow Americans.. .

Theory of evolution, String, Big Bang - whatever. Relativity. All MAYBE this or that. The one FACT now you need to admit is you are OWNED PROPERTY of some other. It was always America's destiny. The Tricky Big G egolatry. Redcoats that ran away, the polar Patriot who gives guns away hooked on Sandy by the shore, all to balance the big sun FLIPPED. All brought to you from yiddles Meast, the Masters of Revolt and Colony and beekeeper Lodge. Pretty easy to see when the writing's on the wall. Or at least in a pyramid.

Surely Temple.

As Underworlds the voyage starts, the rafts line up, two lines Mummies dearest form along the shore. Designation by the Catalyst Event of WTC Falls, to harden up in Reason quick a Prehistoric bug forever fixed not so Amber as in waves of Grain, but as in museum under glass and never toured. So here it is. Where heads your boat next. On that day THIRTEEN YEARS BACK, the one a fraction never solved, the one when gained some ground the Zero and instead Towers fell rain, destinations now disguised as satellite radio are revealed in how you likely felt either one of these two ways:
1) You knew what you were watching was not REAL. Ground Zero, ground cattle.

2) You bought a balloon at the parade. One those evil bastards want to POP but you knew you'd lose.

And everything since just flows from there. Change it.