Dog Poet Transmitting...
May your noses always be cold and wet.
The Zio Satanic Mass Murder Cabal is the hardest working junta in show business. They are the James Brown of gratuitous slaughter and applied genocide. They don't normally give out awards for this kind of thing but if they did, the walls of the Zio-Satanic clubhouse would be lined with trophy cases on all sides. Wait a minute... they gave Howdy Doody the Ignobel Peace Prize! They gave it to that porcine Nosferatu Kissinger too. How amazing is it that things like this can go on, that absurdity can be heaped upon absurdity, until the Tower of the Ridiculous disappears in the clouds? On a clear day it shimmers in the Chemtrails. There are no more clear days. On a clear day you can see Armageddon, cue whoever it was that sang that insipid song; probably the same person that did, “Feelings.” 'nothing more than feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelings'
Yes... this is one of the greatest wonders to me, that this whole triple tractor trailer load of weasel shit can just keep steaming along like those behemoths on Australian highways, except, instead of dead kangaroos littering the sides of the road, it's dead people. I'm guessing that people just aren't that curious. They don't go looking to see what really happened. They don't want to know. I imagine if you laid it out step by step about 9/11, many of them would say, “Yeah, I see what you're talking about but it can't be true because otherwise everyone would know.” Well, they wouldn't actually say that but it would be some kind of a permutation on one theme of denial or another. “Can I have another Sir!!!” “Hurts so good! C'mon baby now it hurts so good! Sometimes sheeple don't do what they should, yadda yadda...” Here's a classic example of the kind of mealy mouthed double speak that comes out of the 'seeming' alternative end of Tribe-Speak. Look at the way the language is shaped and the little kickers stuck in here and there. The best part is at the end when he hits the reader up for money. Heh heh.
There's me and all those other bloggers and people lecturing and doing that word of mouth thing. You figure that gradually, enough people would have tumbled to the transparently obvious lies doing the Hokey Pokey all over the planet but no... they just keep sticking their right foot in and taking their left foot out and shaking it all about, hoping someone notices how good their ass looks in those tight jeans, given they are in that minority. This is the thing about Materialism and those who are sucking on the tit. There's some kind of chemical juice that comes through the tit and it creates a mindset like induced coma. That's not really a mindset unless you think of it as a mind set in concrete. Point being, after a certain point, there's that body of the public that WILL NOT wake up and so... catastrophe and massive trauma is required by the cosmos to get their attention which, at the moment, is busy thumbfucking their cellphone, eating one of those pizzas that have cheese and bacon baked into the crust, or spanking the monkey to pedestrian porn, except when it's not so pedestrian.
The mind, when unprotected becomes a hothouse for astral bacteria. After awhile it is the strongest life form in that location. This bacteria vibrates to mundane and banal crap like it had an antenna, which it does. I suppose it's kinda like Zippy the Pinhead, where the skull comes to a point. Yes... awakening can only go so far before it hits a concrete wall, metaphorically speaking. It is so cringe making to watch the mass of the population chasing after cheap attractions and feeding troughs for the bottom three chakras. One part of me says, “So what, that is, decidedly, what they want.” The other part of me goes, “Yeah, that's one thing but they are all over the place and your odds of not running into them on a regular basis are slim and none.
So... I was in the doctors office today, just a few minutes ago actually and I was looking through a high fashion magazine. The kind of thing I would never see at any other time and you get a sense that there are millions of prosperous and semi-prosperous people. This probably includes a goodly number who wish they were and scramble in all kinds of ways to become prosperous. These people are addicted to the idea of spending $400.00 on a blouse, $800.00 on a pair of pants and over $2000.00 on a pair of shoes, designed by men who hate women. The models all have these dead eyes and the zombie persona enhanced by goth mascara. There's this air of indifference to anything but their own vacuous facsimile of being. They're simply items for purchase just like the things they are wearing and they know this. They hope they will be smart enough to be purchased by someone who can afford them at the level they want to live on. If it's some geriatric business mogul well, that's probably okay. They can lounge about the big empty house and listen to that song by The Eagles, “Lying Eyes” all day long and plot on how to make that happen.
I guess I forget that there is a whole other world out there than the one I live in, since my world is a projection of my mind just as theirs is. I'm not exposed to the stimuli they encounter and if I am I don't have the same reaction anyway. These days when I see a pretty young lady gliding past, what I notice is all the personality accessories that, no doubt, come along with her. Even when I was younger I would think to myself, “Oh... that looks pretty easy to get into and I expect, not so easy to get out of.” Human relationships in the Kali Yuga are a lot like being caught in the brier patch or trying to do the breast stroke in a tar pit. The force of self interest is sooooooooooo great that complications naturally ensue. One has to learn how to read people and that definitely entails having Broad Daylight Awareness. I have officially put the idea of any human relationship, of the type, into the coffin. Man! It smells like freedom!
A friend of mine took it upon himself to travel many thousands of miles to somewhere around Portland Oregon at the invitation of this lady (a reader of these blogs). He was looking for somewhere to land and the hope of a respite from trying to hold it together in today's mercenary climate of existence. He was there no more than a few days when the lady just threw him out because her only reason for inviting him was to make her ex boyfriend jealous. Now he's on the street in a strange land without much money at all, trying to get back to where he came from. I'm pretty much bound to help him and I see my resources dwindling as they have across these past months with my own encounters with sociopaths. It feels like being in a hole in the sand dunes. What kind of a person invites someone across such a distance and then expels them into the toxic atmosphere of today's world? This is why I am trying to be oh so careful in my next foray outward, coming up in about two months.
These days it can be precarious to be dependent on others when people are so fickle and self involved. I mean... you kind of have to have abandoned your humanity when you can just pitch a hissy fit with no cause and throw someone to the wolves. This friend of mine is a basically quiet and unassuming person. He's a good guy but... these days good guys are getting hammered. It used to be that I had to do something to get hammered, now... it happens regardless.
I ask myself, “how many good and decent people are left?” The highways and the supermarkets give me telling evidence. On the highway it seems that most drivers are in a big hurry to get nowhere. They're racing to some destination point where they will likely sit on their ass. They aren't driving. They are driven. They are unconscious automatons being motivated by infernal entities. In the supermarkets, one of the things you notice is that people are unaware of the space they occupy and indifferent to the consideration that other people are moving around them. When you look into their shopping carts you get a clear look at their physical food sources and it ain't pretty. Another thing you notice is that every obese person you see in the supermarket, or any generic stop and shop, are all humping two liter bottles of diet Coke, sometimes in the multiples and sometimes it's not Coke but some other foaming toxin.
Now they're bombing Damascus while using their Banker financed terrorist group ISIS, which was the simple pretext for them to be able to attack ASSAD, who has nothing to do with ISIS. It's been clearly established by now that ISIS is a CIA-Zio-Banker construct designed to be used as an all purpose fear escalator and a cover for whatever massive false flag The Mossad and CIA seek to carry out. They're creating huge camps of displaced people all over the map and my guess is that they will send in people infected with Ebola at some point as part of the Rockefeller eugenics program, which usually follows Little Georgie Sorrows color revolutions, so that the bloodthirsty god he serves can be appeased with all the human sacrifices delivered up on the dark altar of his eternally damned soul. I need one of these.
I'm left with the unshakable certainty that I have to maintain a positive mind frame, regardless of appearances because, after all, this is for the purpose of demonstration. The whole of it all is of such intricate complexity that one must accept their helplessness at instituting any change in the wider world around them but rather focusing on personal changes that may eventually have some larger or smaller impact on the world.
I don't know how permanent or safe my next port of call will be but at least I won't be dependent on anyone else's good will or lack thereof. It seems eminently doable and even if it is technically in The Dark Lord's Realm, his reach is international so I don't see how here is all that different from there. If what I believe is true, that he only has the power we give him, then I feel confident enough. I have some distance of hindsight concerning the circumstances of this life and I have never been so well prepared as I am now.
You have my sincere wishes of good fortune, dear reader. I can't shake the premonition that somehow, somehow, it's going to work out, not everywhere and not for everyone but somewhere and for someone. May it be so for us.