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So I recently joined a writing site that wasn’t associated in any way with some of the things I’ve had published. I thought that I would post stories on there that I would consider to be my seconds. They’re not quite polished or are stories that didn’t quite fit what I wanted to submit.
I have two stories in to set up kind of what I would like to do. Put stuf out there that isn’t quite my best but was still fun too write. I will soon post the url so people can go scope them out. Stay tuned for those who wanna check it out.
Hate is the very breath of hell
September 12—Holy Hour. “Don’t you think that if you were to spend this entire hour of adoration repeating the words, ‘Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven,’ you would not be wasting your time? For My will is all love. It is out of love that you ask Me for it, and when the sum of all the love on earth is greater than the sum of hate, that will be a step forward. Hate is not from heaven. Hate is the very breath of hell.
Bossis, Gabrielle. He and I (Kindle Locations 2365-2368).
Pauline Books and Media. Kindle Edition.
Hatred is a void that is always hungry, grasping, seeking, but in a way that leads to a cold isolation that can become an eternal prison. True hatred reduces everything/everyone/God, to an enemy that must be destroyed or enslaved. It causes the heart to let go of its true humanity, which can only be fulfilled in deepening ones capacity to love, not in reducing it.
The will of Christ Jesus, a revelation of the Father, is ‘all love’, openness, compassion, mercy and understanding. The love of God sees into the depths of each soul, it is the domain of God only, this inner life of each human being. Hatred wishes to deny that, to reduce all that is not ‘it’, to not having the right to exist at all, but an obstacle to the desire to rule over all, or to destroy all.
Since at the center of hatred there is only blind hunger for what it cannot have, it will eventually feed off of itself, desiring nothing else. Such is the tragedy of hell.
Each day we choose our road. Yes, this freedom, which grows and expands every day is our glory as well as a heavy burden. Yet, we are ‘seen’ truly by God, in that is our hope, for there is always mercy, and a return to the path that leads to life……as long as there is life, it is never too late to begin again, and again, and again.—Br.MD
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Church and Culture – February 16, 2019 – Hour 2 – Brother Mark Dohle discusses the individual spiritual challenge posed by the Church crisis.
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So I’m just going to put this out there. The Netflix series “OA” looks as if it has been following our stories, conversations and blogs here on UM. Particularly mine. I know I can seem crazy sometimes, but the whole series has way to many points that parallel blogs and events in my life that I have shared here and the odd way that spiritual beings seem to work. Even the images are strikingly similar to things I have described.
If somone hasn’t been using my blogs as source material, it is one hell of a coincidence. The end of the first season blew me away. I won’t give it away, but if you have followed my blogs over the years, then you would see why.
By he way. If you are a writer and doing this, I’m totaly cool with it.
It’s a hard one for me, because on one hand it looks like a writer has been using my experiences as source material and, if not, well... I take unusually syncronsitic events a little... a lot more seriously than most people. It wouldn’t be the first time all these things start lining up through media, so it means I need to pay attention.
Yes, Yes I know. I don’t need a lesson in how the human mind can create stories out of nothing... oddly enough that’s what the series is about as well. It’s as if somone has even been watching previous conversations and arguments I have had here.
Either that or I’m bat poop crazy.
The great thing is that I have been recording my experiences here for years. All it takes is some reading then watching the series and somone should be able to start to see what I am seeing.
What a wacky universe we live in.
“MILLIONTH-COUNCIL DIRECT, FINAL BLOG”
Subtitled: Camel Straws and Levy’s Gang
3:39 PM, Friday, eleven December, 2009
Well peeps, this is where I bid U all a fond ado and farewell. U will not B seeing me around, maybe never, maybe a bit later on, but not 4 at least well into the next year when I have established myself some place far away from where I am.
This is the day I AM leaving, and without my JEEP, my PEEJ, or anything that is basically 2 much beyond the clothes on my back, a few small bags, and my car. Lucky 4 me that I always take several bags 2 work with me, so I won’t B questioned at door check, by Warden Dawn Monster King.
She went off on me today after her mom left me alone here with her. She told me that she won’t bother me, how many times have I been lied 2 in this world by people, and then called a liar myself? Wow, more of an irony here than all the parkways and driveways on the planet. So I have 2B the one who leaves and drives into the darkness, without a plan or any way of knowing anything about what tomorrow will have in store 4 me. Dawn said that it is ALL MY FAULT. I am the reason that everything is wrong around here, she of course never makes any mistakes or does anything less than perfect.
She said that I am the reason 4 her distant cousin Mariah’s troubles, that I broke up her parents, and am now doing the same thing 2 her and Chicky. I do not have the smallest idea what she is talking about., I am in the middle of this. Chicky demands 2B shown the house where Dawn, not me, had been cheating on him at, with her new bar pick up. I am ordered by both of them do things that put me in the middle of their marital affairs, and then I get the blame from both of them. Long story short, there is no way 2 win, and all I can ever have here is endless abuse and misery.
Ann had a death in her family that Dawn never even knew these cousins, so while Dawn is here at the house with me, she is at a viewing and later will stay at the Harbor overnight and B all day Saturday as well, and come back late Saturday night or else on Sunday.
Dawn told me if I try 2 leave, she will have the FBI after me, and tell the landlord agent all kinds of lies about me. It is laughable, her mother would stand up 4 me and she will never get away with all of this monstrous horror, but she has become totally off the wall mentally diseased, and lately, over the past weeks, has started degenerating further and faster.
There is nothing I can do but leave the few possessions I owned all behind, and take off into the night. I will get Chicky at his job, and all ready have the car bags in the trunk, and that is that. This is the end of nearly 5 years of totally unsuccessful blogging that only led 2 my meeting these monster people, by first being at the library so as 2 use their computer, as I had none then, and then from there going 2 Ed’s apartment in Judge Raso’s rooming house, where Ann and Dawn lived upstairs. This was all destined and definitely totally pre-destined 2 all happen 2 me, right down 2 me pounding these keys on this board right this second.
Dawn also said that when Chicky gets drunk and punches this guy who Dawn was sleeping with, and ends up in jail, it will B all my fault. I am the one that engineered all this, just 2 break up her and Chicky. Yeah, I have nothing better 2 do with my life than give 3 shirts whether U and Chicky break up or stay married 4 the next 90 years. Yeah, I have some big ulterior motive. Now this kind of talk is founded on her mental delusions and major psychiatric disorders, with no basis whatsoever in reality. Call me a nut case all U want, I know what true mental disease is, I live in the same home with it and have now since late August of oh-nine.
Well is there really ever a right or a proper place 2 begin something, or end it, such as MORIANITY? Something like this, has only its own living entity, and is as timeless as the void. The simple truth is that they killed my mother, and then did everything they could 2 get me wiped out, so that all my evidence that Dave Roth and I collected through the years, could all B made 2 disappear in the famous vanishing acts of the Vegas History Marker Vanishing Club.
No matter what happens 2 me now, I will derive extreme pleasure in bringing this insane demonic monster down, and by leaving, and he having no more slave or whell man 2 take her all over creation and back, it will B a short march of days, B4 she will B put back in her cage where animals and pure trash, all belong. Maybe it was meant 2 take 30 years or so 4 Donna’s prophecy 2 kick in. Whether the morning light and the dawning of a new day will bring all of us 2 total destruction or me 2 a new beginning, nobody can know, but I do know that I cannot stand one more night in this house with this evil sick piece of filth. Ingrate is not the word, she is beyond any ingrate. I have done, as her mother said 2 me, more 4 this piece of ugly disease, than anyone has ever done 4 another, and out of the kindness of my heart, and all I ever get back, continually, is major disrespect, threats of physical violence, and total non appreciation. Her mother said 2 me that she brought Satan’s twin monster into this world, and I know 4 a fact that she just might B totally accurate. In any case, this is it 4 me, 4 blogging on the internet, a total waste of time that led 2 my absolute demise and obliteration, so Arnie, I will not B back, and U can go terminate that one buddy.
Morianity was an attempt 4 me 2 tell people that a terrible injustice had been done., The more I went along, more injustices kept right on chasing the all ready existing story as per the time it began getting blogged. These R the weird beyond belief things that I would notice on real super bad (BOTBAR) days, in years and decades past, while I was attempting 2 record what happened around me while driving on the road, and super siege was all around me no matter where I went or what I did. Many times, I would find myself totally unable 2 keep pace with the new events while still trying 2 record the all ready past events. This is no coincidence. I take this as a total sign that some powerful thing, B it a gods-game, or whatever, is occurring in the universe, and it is not alterable. Also, the MIKE GUTHERMAN SYNDROME kicks in here as well. This was a landlord I had in 1976, in a crummy apartment system , actually he was the resident manager, and his name was Mike. One day,B4 moving out, I gave him some of my possessions, some phonograph records, and a few little things that I did not wish 2 bother lugging 2 the next place. He looked me up about 3 or 4 months later in my new place, and went 2 the trouble of finding me at the new place, miles away, and told me his entire life was destroyed, and it happened ever since I gave him these things. His wife left him, he lost his job, and he was homeless. UI used 2 envy him and his gorgeous wife, and thought they had it made. Something is going on, I may not know exactly what it is, only that atheists R so full of shirt, they stink from here 2 next Halloween.
Well, so Morianity is about 2 end, not for 70 days, but either a lot longer than this or maybe forever. So let me throw in the ending 2 one part of the Cherry Hill nightmare back in 1986 when life went from bleak 2 over 4 me. I told U last night that these 2 men, a father and son team, were 2 meet us in the driveway of the home on Marlton Pike. They were late, and mom and I decided 2 leave. Somehow they knew it had been us waiting there as they pulled up late, and chased us down a busy highway 4 a mile B4 we realized it was most likely them, and decided 2 pull over onto the shoulder. How many times do I remember mom and I saying 2 each other, if only we had just kept on going. People R not all in some huge conspiracy, and the reason mentally ill, persons develop this paranoia is because they R unable 2 distinguish between energy running through things such as people, animals, weather, machines, and so forth, and instead just C the physical material THING that is DOING something. The paranoia is real, but is never properly directed at the spiritual energy behind the curtains of Oz. This all though I truly admit 2 not having even close 2 all the answers about, is what is going on, and not what appears 2B happening. First it is a world of energy, and then conscious mind descrambles this by dividing everything somehow by light speed squared. Simply put, it is set up 2 intentionally mislead us, 4 whatever the reasons, but still, this is the fact.
Morianity is not important. I tried 2 tell things, and I failed. Masters knew all along, I went about it the wrong way. U were correct Mister Klemp. However, I had a 2nd reason 4 doing this. I wanted someone 2 help me. This is not a world like that, and I was very naïve. I grew up a lot more again, Mackey and McDowell, how about U dudes?
Well, if I can escape tonight, I am gone, so do not look 4 blogs after the weekend from Mountainpen, if U do not C one later on within 12 hours or so of this post. This will not B a 70 day experiment. I am trying 2 get away with my life, and only the gods know what will become of me now. Find someone else 2 take over an Otammite vehicle and use the device in their trunk, Rog. Where were U when it all hit the fan here with your deranged sick butt wiping cousin? Thank her 4 this, she left me no choice, I fear 4 my safety here. I will tell the FBI man, Steve Caruso a lot more about what she has done 2 me, than anything she can ever dream of telling him, BRAH. So Dawn, bring it ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will CU in HELL, U MONSTER, U AND YOUR WASHCLOTH FAMILY from the fires of HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END OF ALL OF MORIANITY:
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I posted this on mypersonal website (AbductionSite.com) on May 31st oflast year. I thought I had posted ithere at Unexplained-Mysteries.com, but I was mistaken. This was my last blog, before I shut down andstopped blogging altogether . . . until now. (Blog #187 refers to this posting.)
I went bed at 10:30 in the evening. That was Sunday night. I got out of bed at 8 o'clock this morning,fully expecting to enjoy another day off from work because of the Memorial Dayweekend. I was wrong. Wesley called earlier this morning and wassurprised to discover that I was home. When he came by a few hours ago, he explained that he had thought Iwould have been at work because it was Tuesday. "Impossible," I said, but a quick glance at my Outlook calendar confirmedit. Some time in the last 24 hours . . .I lost 24 hours.
I know that in the day to day routine, a person can loosetrack of time, sometimes so much so that a day can slip by without notice. In such circumstances, however, one canusually look back and remember the little details that distinguish one day fromanother and finally reconcile the time that has passed. Not so in this case. I have no memory of anything happening atall. I went to bed one day and woke up24 hours later!
There is some collaborative evidence, however, to support myclaim that this is a case of missing time . . . my cats and house plants.
I'm religious about putting down fresh water for my catsevery day. Pywacket suffered fromUrinary Track Infection a few years ago, and to prevent another episode he mustdrink enough water each day to keep the crystals that form in his bladder insolution. If not, they'll solidify andblock his urinary track (a very dangerous and costly condition). This afternoon I went to change their waterand saw that it was nearly empty. Thecat box hasn't been cleaned, either. Ievidently wasn't around to do my kitty chores.
The house plants, which sit near the open window, wereparticularly thirsty this morning. Ithasn't been particularly warm out. Actually it's been threatening showers, off and on, so the humidity hasbeen high. One of the plants sits in abasin of water, which was also nearly empty. In addition to my cats, I apparently neglectedmy plants, as well.
I've had periods of missing time before (see blogposts #10 and #85), but nothing for as long as a full day and night. Fortunately I have an understanding boss, soI'll be able to take the time off as a vacation day, although I doubt he'll buymy explanation.
Abducted by Aliens by Chuck Weiss isavailable as a FREE e-book at AbductionSite.com,also featuring "UFOs in the News."
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NOTE: Hi Everyone. Dr. 58 will return soon ... I have an enormous amount of transcripts to pore over, edit and put into shape for presentation here -- I hope to get to it in just a few days -- In the meantime -- I want to share this series of posts with you that is off the subject of Dr. 58, per se, but involves some other explorations of consciousness I have conducted recently.
* * * * * *
As writer I often work as a ghostwriter, and I recently accepted a job from a publisher in Europe to create a rather large manuscript on the subject of reincarnation.
Although I have had a lifetime interest in reincarnation, (mostly a passing interest), the intense amount of research I was required to do for this project led me deeper into the more arcane aspects of the complex belief systems surrounding the idea that we have lived “past lives.”
Anyway, since I was steeped in the subject all day, one night I decided to conduct my own experiment to see if I could find out anything about my own possible reincarnations.
One of the primary methods of discovering past lives is the use of hypnotic regression. As for myself, I cannot be hypnotized, and I won’t go into detail right now why that is so.
However, I have explored many aspects of altered consciousness exploration, from 31 years of daily Zen meditation to lucid dreaming, and use of various binaural beat technologies. For this experiment to ferret out my own past lives, I opted for one of my old favorites, Hemi-Sync, a series of binaural tools developed by the Monroe Institute of Faber, Virginia.
In this case, I opted for “Problem Solving Focus 12” from the “Threshold” series because it enabled me to set up a “problem” to solve – the word “problem” is slightly the wrong term here, as I choose to think of my “problem” in this case to be “goal” – but, effectively, the guidance of this program was ideal for leveraging the experience I was attempting to “program” for myself.
I got comfortable flat on my back and tuned into the blissful tones of Hemi-Sync until I entered that “body asleep – mind awake” state, which some might call the hypnogogic state, which is the stage between sleep and wakefulness – although in my case, my mental presence was not that of sleep nor a lucid dream situation – rather, a subtle frame of consciousness wherein the mind is free of the physical body and can explore what I’ll just call “other aspects” of reality.
I set up my reincarnation scenario this way:
Once in my altered state of consciousness, I was to imagine and create three doorways which were floating out somewhere in the middle of space.
On each door I would “imprint” a “target date.” These dates I chose at random, although in fact, I selected dates that I had an intuitive feeling for. I just sort of “let my hand write them down.” So the dates I choose were:
Door Number One: 35,000 B.C
Door Number Two: 75 A.D.
Door Number Three: 1500 A.D.
My goal then was to enter through each doorway to see what I would find on the other side – with the intention or hope that I might find one of my “past lives” living in one of these eras so far removed from the present day in time.
I was pleased to discover that I was having a good Hemi-Sync session. In about 40 minutes, I felt my consciousness detach from my body and float free. At first I saw the surroundings of my bedroom as I floated upward. I watched (with typical amusement) the beams, insulation, woodwork and rafters of my house dissolve right through my “body “as I floated upward. (I remember the “old days” when this used to freak me out).
Once above the roof of my home, floating free above the snowy Minnesota countryside, a felt a sudden tickling whorl at my center.
Then: I was blasted upward!
There was a blur, and I found myself suspended in outer space –perhaps not exactly space – true, there were stars burning hard and steady in the unimaginable distance – but my immediate surroundings were suffused in a lovely carbon blue.
My discipline was holding and my control was good. I turned my mind to the formation of my three doorways – and before long – there they were! Floating out in the carbon-blue space against a backdrop of distant stars were three heavy oaken doors, framed in black timber and hung with polished brass hinges. On each door was a brass plate engraved with the dates I had “programmed” – 35,000 B.C., 75 A.D and 1500 A.D.
To be honest, I didn’t know exactly how this would work from here. (I often don’t think out every detail of these kinds of projects).
Would I just float up to each doorway, open it somehow and pass through?
As I thought of this, I again felt a tingling tug in my solar plexus. (The solar plexus or my astral or analog body, that is). I was then pulled forward, as if by magnetic attraction.
I was moving toward the door on the left – the doorway to 35,000 B.C.!
As is often the case, I have sudden moments where I question whether my meddling and experiments are a good idea. There was a certain loss of control. As I moved inexorably toward Doorway No. 1, there was that uneasy “well, there’s no going back now” feeling.
I moved closer and closer to the portal to 35,000 B.C. -- I began to experience a breathless adrenaline surge as I noticed that the door began to swing open – I caught a glimpse of blue sky and sunlight on the other side!
My speed increased – there was a sudden “WHOOOOOOSH!”
I had become a blurred streak of light!
I reached the door!’
It was gaping wide!
I plunged through!
I opened my eyes. I found myself crouched low in a guarded position, standing on a stony bit of ground. I immediately became aware of a white sun crackling in the sky, radiating hot on my face – in fact, I felt the powerful, almost “heavy” solar rays baking my bare shoulders, arms and hands.
I am in a physical body!
I stand up slowly. I look around in awe at the environment. Out in the distance in front of me I see a line of mountainous peaks, but they are not far away – perhaps only a mile or two across a deep gorge between where I stand and the craggy spires.
To be exact, I would say that these “mountain peaks” were more like large rocky bluffs, perhaps only about 800 feet high, made of blue-black stone interspersed with trees, foliage and slides of rubble -- but they were seemed much larger and higher because of their radical incline from the valley below.
The gorge itself is a dense mix of deciduous and coniferous trees along with many boulders. I could not see to the bottom because of all the structure, but I could sense that the way to the bottom was steep and deep. Rough land! No man’s land, for sure!
The sky was richly cerulean. Fluffy white clouds scudding from left to right – the atmosphere was steamy hot! The humidity was oppressive. Dampness was trickling down my shoulders and running down my bare legs.
I noticed that I was wearing what appeared to be animal skins belted at my waist, not much longer than shorts– not so crudely designed really – but in this case, fastened up and worn in a way to help me stay cool as possible. To be honest, it appeared I was wearing a rolled-up jumble of filthy matted road kill.
I was an adult but youngish, lean and smooth-muscled. I had a course black beard and long black hair, wet and tangled.
Was this me – in my previous life – in 35,000 B.C.?
I looked to the right and left. I could see that I was on a primitive trail that traversed my side of the valley wall. I looked up and behind me the bluffs extended steeply above my head probably at least 200 feet. The only open way of the trail appeared to be to my left.
I noticed that I was breathing heavy, like I had been exerting myself. When I looked left down the trail – way off to the left… it was as if I suddenly remembered something – then -- a roiling pit of emotional dread seeped upward into my consciousness, like an evil black crude bubbling up from a place of psychic darkness.
I realized: It was because there was something down there – down that trail. Something terrifying.
It was something I didn’t want. I knew one thing for sure: I wanted to be opposite and go opposite from whatever it was.
But what manner of horror was it? Just contemplating it made the dreadful feelings come forth even stronger and build.
Oh God! What’s down there? I don’t want it!
Whatever it was, wherever that path led, toward what evil -- it was more than horror and dread. It was unspeakable.
But wait a minute – what am I thinking?
I began to get fuzzy about who or what I was. Am I Ken, lying back in my bed in Minnesota, projecting my consciousness? Who am I? What am I doing here? Damn!
This gets confusing fast!
Emotions flood in to imprint over a particular focus on a reality scenario.
Suddenly, my “Ken reality scenario” receded into the background.
A ridiculous thought: “Don’t get trapped here, goddammit!"
Then a snippet of self-chatter: “Ken! You damned fool! Stay frosty, dude!”
It’s all ridiculous, alright …I know it seems ridiculous … but the emotions there in the moment were so intense, cloying and absorbing, like walking into mud, sucking black greasy mud –a thick mire –a gruesome fen of an alternate reality scenario pulling me in, pulling me down.
The mud is irrational pure emotion – it draws you in, and you get stuck in it.
The way along the path to the left was dense, rocky, thick with brush and trees. Even though there was a rudimentary trail, the going would be tough – but why go that way – why walk toward “IT”?
Why not just run the other way?
But there was no other way. I could see I was all-but trapped when I looked to the right. The trail in that direction came and abutted up to a rocky out thrust – I couldn't get around it – the only way was up, or back to left – and to be honest, I was now feeling an overwhelming compunction to go left – toward whatever is was I desperately wanted to avoid at all costs.
Was this my purpose for coming here?
Was there something I needed to face up to, no matter how deplorable and frightening that something might be?
Was this something I had avoided in a past life, left undone, and so now the karmic weight of it was still weighting down my soul?
Thus, I could hardly believe it when I began placing one foot ahead of the other – moving forward down the left trail, going toward that which my gut told me I should be avoiding at absolutely all cost – yet onward I went anyway, sweating and laboring for exaggerated care.
I held my breath as much as possible, eager to stay quiet – I was being extremely careful not to snap a twig or shift some rubble that would give away my presence. (Who or what was I afraid of?)
I picked my way along hard ground interspersed with many sharp-granite pebbles. These couldn’t cut my bare feet, I noticed. My soles were tough and callused, like leather pads!
I worked my way along about 100 yards and then I heard the noises -- yips, grunts, yelps – squawking voices of terrible glee – human yet maybe not quite human – freakish hoots and eerie warbles – whoever or whatever they were, they were working hard, repeatedly thrusting with some intense effort of exertion.
I saw movement and crept forward. Peering through dense thickets and foliage, I saw what was happening.
There was a group of six other human figures – swarthy, deeply tanned, bare chested, gleaming with sweat and oily skin, tangled hair, dirty – they were raising clubs and brings them down, up and down, up and down, again and again, grunting heavily with their gruesome labor – they were beating another man to death.
Or I should say, he must have already been well beyond death.
He was a bloody, pulpy mass of flesh and bones crumpled on the ground. His entire face and head was a mass of smeared red gore. His skull was crushed and brains were coming out, yet they kept beating him all over– it’s as if they were tenderizing his meat with their clubs before burning him and eating him.
My bowels loosened with intense fright – not just for the horror of the scene -- but it suddenly occurred to me that these primitive ogres would easily be able to sense my presence, even though I was well hidden and dense, tangled thickets.
Somehow, I knew about them –I knew how they worked. I understood their ways and M.O.
I knew they could smell my sweat and body odor from a mile off. The fear hormones tainting my perspiration would excite them like catnip – the prefrontal contexts inside their skulls would ignite with a frenzied blood lust. If the slightest breeze wafted my scent toward them, they would be up and snorting the air like dogs –
And then they did!
Suddenly, two of the brutes shot up, stood erect and craned their heads into the air. They began pacing around eagerly, lifting their noses – three others saw them, and triggered by pack mentality, they waxed instantly excited as well.
Within seconds, they looked toward my position in the woods and bounded forward!
I turned and bolted – I strained every muscle into an instant fight-or-flight sprint!
AHHHHHH!!! My God! I must run – run, run, run!
I was fast, I knew that -- very fast. I was more than a match for them in speed, but that mattered little. That’s because they would hunt me as a pack. I knew how they worked. They would split off into a group of three. One would chase me directly from behind – the other two would fan out to either side and thus maneuver to turn me. By slowing my path of retreat from a straight line to a zig zag they could close the gap fast and jump on me.
They can’t do that!
The path is too narrow!
They can’t fan out – then can only pursue from behind!
I have a chance!
I can live!
I can run!
It doesn’t matter!
About a hundred yards ahead , the trail is blocked by rock!
I can’t get around!
They’ll trap me!
Tear my flesh with their teeth!
Claw me with filthy nails!
Tear my skin!
Bash my head!
Flinty shards of my shattered skull will crunch into my brain!
And yet … they’ll carefully keep me alive to flay and rip away my skin!
They’ll drink my blood!
They’ll eat my heart while it’s still hot!
I could try to scramble up the walls of the gorge! Maybe I could climb away from them!
But wait! Wait a minute! … wait a minute! … wait! … wait! … wait! … wait! … wait! … wait! … wait! … wait! …wait! …. wait …
What … what?
THERE’S A MAGIC DOOR!
BUT NO! --- THERE’S A DOOR! – A MAGIC DOOR!
THERE IS ONE!
A MAGIC DOOR!
I KNOW THERE IS!
THERE’S A MAGIC DOOR!
I CAN JUMP THROUGH IT!
THEY CAN’T FOLLOW ME THROUGH THE MAGIC DOOR!
That’s what I began to think as I was running for my life.
I could think that because my mind had been wiped white by shear fear -- letting "another voice" in. The voice of a "calm Observer."
An insane notion – as if from a guardian spirit – a nature spirit – was telling me of an impossible notion that there was some kind of magic door back up the trail, back where, where … where what?
That’s right – damn it … where I came in!
I ran. My lungs were exploding, every muscle straining. Smudges of red and sparking lights began to crowd out my vision. Oxygen was channeling away from my brain to give all to my legs.
But my pursuers were still catching up – they were chirping their bizarre hunting calls – hoots, and caws, grunts and guttural burps – they sounded like:
“Hooooeeeee --- hunh, hunh, hunh – hooooooeeeeee – uh, uh, uh – yow … yow-yow … yow … yow-yow –hoooeeeee!!!” Hoo-iiip!!! Hooo-iiiip!!!
It was the senseless voice of death – bloody, grimy, sweat-and-urine animalistic death!
I ran – the big rock outcropping loomed before me! the way blocked! Despair!
A shiny thing!
A blurry piece of sunlight revolving -- a whirlpool of light on the cliff side!
It’s the door – the amazing magic door – it must be!
I barreled head-on to the door – I smash my eyes shut – I will ram myself head first into the rock of the cliff and smash my own head.
I bash my body into the sunlight portal on the rock -- and –
I’m floating free!
I’m Ken! Ken again! Ken! Ken! Ken! Ken again!
Ha! Ha! What a dumbass!
It was all part of the scenario I had bargained for in the first place!
But --- ahhhhhhhh – to suddenly feel so blissfully cool and weightless and good! You can’t believe the wonderful feeling!
All the heat, the sweat, the stinging perspiration in my eyes, the thorn-scratched skin, the fear, the loathing, the nauseating horror, the stench of blood – instantly replaced with the blissful silence and serenity of the thrumming-fresh carbon-blue star realm! It's so nice.
I turned and looked back at the doorway from which I had just returned, and here I was in for a mild surprise.
When I floated through the doorway, the brass plate on the outside had been engraved with the date 35,000 B.C. – but now it read: 89,771 B.C.
Wow. Apparently I had journeyed further back in time that I had bargained for. Why?
NOTE: There are a number of issues I want to discuss about the implications of this possible reincarnation scenario – such as the true nature of time, and just who I was in this experience – maybe I was actually that poor individual who was beaten to death, and that I had regressed to the time of my death in 89,771 B.C.? – or not -- But I am going to leave all of this discussion aside for now because I don’t want to interrupt my narrative here, and still have two doorways to travel through in this experiment, and I want to tell you about what I encountered inside them first.
Thus, in my next post, I will describe what I find after I enter the Doorway to Year 75 A.D.
In times of trial, I often find myself with a great desire to escape or ignore the problems I face. Although, I know this is not the best course of action, I usually feel no need to fight this desire because in the past, I have had great success with this method. In many cases, I have ignored my problems and they have resolved themselves or someone else found a solution without me even seeking help. I know my luck in this area is bound to run out eventually, but I feel like I want to test it. I want to see just how lucky I can get by ignoring even life’s greatest challenges. It seems crazy, psychotic even. But I need to know. When my luck runs out, perhaps I will begin to regard my issues in a more attentive way but until then, we shall see.
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"So you know what else is illegal?" Mystery Man sauntered up the strolling driveway. It snaked its way half a mile up a hill between yards of evenly-trimmed, forest green grass. About halfway up, the driveway split and wrapped up the other side of the hill, merging again at the enormous front doors of the pristine mansion. In the center of it all was a fountain, naked cherubs dancing in the sparkling water and—"
"—And p***ing all over the yard."
Behind the abrasive assassin, far down at the beginning of the luxurious lanes, rose a pillar of black, carrying on it the crackles of a blazing fire. Inferno is probably more accurate. No part of the guard house was as it had been before the question mark-clad crusader arrived.
"Hey, you gonna answer me or what?" Mystery Man scratched his head and glanced up irritably. "We aren't back to the 'Pretending Mystery Man Isn't Real' game again, are we? Even after all I've done for you?"
With a sigh, he shook his head. "Seems we are. Guess I'll just tell the butler then."
The mercenary marched up the steps, listening with satisfaction at the click of his heels on the stone. He mounted the top step, looked at the door, grabbed the knocker hanging from the lion's mouth, and promptly dove back to the drive with fingers in his ears.
There was an earth-shattering crack as smoke bellowed out over the doorway. Wood splintered in all directions, even hitting Mystery Man, though his suit absorbed the bits that did. It had hardly begun to clear before he made his move, dashing through the cloud holding his breath, katanas drawn and ready to go.
To his surprise, the suit did little to protect his eyes from the smoke. They watered over, blurring his already blinded vision. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over a flipped tile. When his balance was regained, he found himself smack dab in the center of an assembly of very large men. Very large men, with very large guns.
"I don't suppose you'd care to explain," Mystery Man began, wiping at his red-sore eyes, "how my cross-dimensional supersuit can't protect me from a little smoke?"
Of course, Mystery Man had forgotten that the suit is not always an otherworldly portal. If his entire face were hidden behind such a structure, he would surely suffocate as the oxygen was pulled into parts unknown instead of his lungs. He stomped his foot, angered at having made such a moronic mistake.
"Moronic my ass! I'm angered at not being well-defined you stupid, son of a—"
The bullets rained down on him. Suddenly brought up to speed on his vulnerabilities, Mystery Man tumbled away, knowing that he could not depend on each slug to crawl through into another realm. He kicked out the shins of one man, who buckled just long enough for the hero to swoop up behind him and press a sword against his neck. It was classic human-shield, and it worked just as well as ever.
"Guns on the ground and your hides outside, or this guy gets gutted." Mystery Man squinted through the stretched fabric of his suit. When nobody moved, his voice filled with gravel: "I'm not joking, jackwads! Move!"
Not a soul turned. They all stood still as statues, silently calling on the hero's bluff. Then one moved, and before Mystery Man could react, the security man in his arms was dead.
"That wasn't cool, guy!" Mystery Man let the guard drop to the floor. He raised his swords, poised and ready.
"What you want, mook?"
The voice was laughably 1950s. Mystery Man turned to face its owner, a short guy with a big stomach. He was bald, old, and reeked something of stale cologne.
"Oh, I just dropped in to say 'Hi'." Mystery shuffled his feet shyly. "Oh, and y'know, I guess I might as well hit you with this, since I've been carrying it the whole story here: Y'know that asking someone to a kill a guy is just as illegal as killing that guy? I know right, go figure!"
"I don't know what you're talking about." The man waved dismissively. "All I know is there's some wacko dressed up like a goth Riddler blowing up my yard. An' if he don't make a sweet deal right ****in' now, he's dead."
"You guys always gotta play it tough and dumb, don't ya?" Mystery Man turned away, talking over his shoulder at the line of armed men. "Don't they? Always pretending to be so innocent. Listen Captain Chili Cheese Fries, I know exactly what you've been paying for and I know exactly who you've been paying to. I'm part of the guild, got it?"
"It's funny you should say that." The voice was light and elegant with a hint of comfortable humor. It was a voice that brought memories to Mystery's mind. "So am I."
At last he had appeared, and Mystery Man knew this would be the last time they'd meet face-to-face.
At last he stood before... The Nudist!
Despite differences in any society or culture, you could find in many of their folklore common imaginary about the supernatural. Since the earliest human civilization, there have been stories about people returning from the grave needing to feed upon humans to substance themselves. Legends of these creatures are told across the global including Japan with its folklore holding some morbid myths such as the Hone-onna.In Japan’s lore, yokai are malevolent supernatural entities often created by the returning spirit of a human or animal to been wronged in life seeking revenge. However, even undying love may give rise to an undead creatures. When a woman dies still desiring to stay with their family or lover, her spirit manifest into a hone-onna. This yokai will appear as a young, beautiful woman disguising her true form of a rotten walking corpse or skeleton.In legends, the hone-onna is a ghost which returns wanting to continue the love of those she had in life. She would arise from the grave at night and return to the home of her family or lover. The yokai’s suddenly appearance would shock those grieving her passing, yet be joyous of the woman’s return unaware of her true nature. Myths mention, even hone-onna may not even be aware herself of what she transforming into.In lore, unsuspecting husbands or lovers would often fall victim to this yokai. The hone-onna visited the male at night to engage in intimacy where she feed’s off their life force then leaving in the morning. This course of action usually resulted in the man’s death. Only those strong in will or of could see pass the disguise and maybe able to intervene. Often in stories, man who been warned of the hone-onna still continued to embrace the ghost, even at the cost of their lives.Hone-onna, in several myths, continue to exist long after killing their lovers. Either a wish to continue living or be embraced by someone, these yokai carry on appearing at night seducing young men and substance them by extracting their life force. In some forms of Japanese media, the hone-onna been the setting for tragic love stories.
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My boyfriend has come over for the weekend and the poor thing managed to get the flu and is now sick in bed. So, in between checking up on him I figured I'd take this time to write another entry on a very interesting forest I have found while browsing through various sites.
The Japanese government reports hundreds of dead bodies being found within the dense forest walls. Signs are posted throughout the trees, pleading for the fatal visitors to reconsider the decision to end their lives. Despite the creepy factor (and the possibility of finding a dead body or two), these woods are supposedly beautiful and good for a nice quiet stroll. I'll definitely have to check it out someday, though I certainly plan on returning to the outside world . But until then, here is a complete rundown of the woods and it's haunting history. I hope you enjoy!
Please Keep in mind that I am only researching this for fun, so if you see anything inaccurate, let me know .
Location and History of Aokigahara Forest
Located just west of Tokyo, Japan's capital and most iconic city, lies Mount Fuji. This monster of a mountain stretches 12,388 ft towards the sky and those who climb to it's peak experience a beautiful view of the country from the highest mountain in Japan.
Mount Fuji. Source:Wikipedia
The base of this beautiful mountain holds a less tranquil site. Placing second in the world's most popular place for suicides, the forest of Aokigahara spans a total of 35 km and holds a reputation for it's eerie silence, dense trees... and decomposing human bodies.
For the past 60 years, a reported 500+ individuals have wandered into the "Sea of Trees" to end their lives, mostly by hanging. However the exact number of souls lost in these woods might never be known. The highest amount of bodies discovered in one year was a depressing 78 in 2002. Compared to Japan's 127,380,000 population it may seem like a small amount, but it's still rather peculiar that all of these people have chosen the same location to end their lives. So why is this the case?
Reasoning Behind the Suicides
The real reason many of these people decided to end it all in Aokigahara may never be known. Perhaps it's the idea of dying at the foot of the stunning Mount Fuji, or dying within the silence of the dense woods.
However the most well known reason behind some of these suicides is placed in the hands of two Japanese authors and their infamous books.
After rummaging through a few poorly translated Japanese (and, oddly, Russian) websites I tracked down the three Japanese books that many blame for a handful of the suicides within Aokigahara:
1. The Pagoda of Waves by Seichō Matsumoto [published 1960]
2. Kuroi Jakai by Seichō Matsumoto [published 1960]
3. The Complete Manual of Suicide by Wataru Tsurumi [published July 4, 1993]
The first published book on the list, The Pagoda of Waves (an explanation of a "Pagoda" can be read here), is the story of a female ghost who had once taken her life within Aokigahara. The second book, Kuroi Jakai tells the romantically tragic tale of two lovers who also take their lives within Aokigahara.
Both of these novels were written by Japanese author Seichō Matsumoto. Despite a portion of Aokigahara's suicide toll being blamed on the content of his novel's, Matsumoto appears to have been a popular novelist during his life, as well as after his death in 1992. He specialized in writing historical, mystery and detective novels, as well as non fiction pieces, and was awarded the Akutagawa Prize (a Japanese literary award) in 1952 for his work. Only a handful of his novels, not including The Pagoda of Waves and Kuroi Jakai, have been translated into English.
The last book on the list, The Complete Manual of Suicide, gave Aokigahara the tagline "the perfect place to die". The manual, which is also Japanese in origin, holds 198 detailed pages outlining various methods of taking your own life. Eleven different methods are covered in total including overdosing, hanging, gassing electrocution. It's safe to assume that Aokigahara is mentioned in the 'hanging' section. The creepiest thing about this book is that it has reportedly been found with the body of a few of the suicide victims within the forest. So it's clear that some of the books million purchasers are taking the contents seriously.
Cover of Tsurumi's book The Complete Manual of Suicide. Source:Wikipedia
Aokigahara poses an unusual situation for the government of Japan. Not only do the dense trees make it impossible to see very far inside Aokigahara, but they probably wouldn't be able to close off all access to the forest completely to the public. Local authorities have come to rely on the following suicide prevention techniques:
- Signs have been installed with references to suicide hotlines, as well as directions to the nearest phone
- Video cameras have been installed along the trails leading into the forest
- Local shops near the woods do not sell any items that could be used to assist in a suicide, such as rope and pills
- Approaching suspicious looking individuals (men in suits are often targeted) and questioning them
However, the most popular form of suicide prevention the authorities use are signs located at the entrance and throughout Aokigahara. The sign placed near the front entrance roughly reads (in Japanese), "Your life is a priceless gift from your parents. Think about them and about your family. You do not have to suffer alone. Call us 22-0110". And when this fails, a yearly suicide patrol, which has began in 1971, searches for the victims corpses.
Unfortunately, the three villages bordering Aokigahara are responsible for the bodies that turn up within the forest, hitting each village hard financially. They must also deal with all of the unclaimed bodies. Kamikuishiki village holds 119 unclaimed bodies, Ashiwada has 52 and Narusawa has 60.
One of the many signs begging the suicidal to reconsider. Source:Helloliefje.com
An article on the website Seek Japan.jp which was written by Zack Davisson explains the unfortunate duty a forestry worker has to do once they stumble upon a body in the woods:However, even in these haunted woods, regular humans still have a job to do. Forestry workers rotate in and out of shifts at a station building in Aokigahara, and occasionally they will come upon unfortunate bodies in various states of decomposition, usually hanging from trees or partially eaten by animals. The bodies are brought down to the station, where a spare room is kept especially for such occasions. In this room are two beds: one for the corpse and one for someone to sleep next to it. Yup, you read that correctly. It is thought that if the corpse is left alone, the lonely and unsettled yurei will scream the whole night through, and the body will move itself into the regular sleeping quarters. In inimitable style, the workers jan-ken to see who gets to sleep with the body. And you thought your job was rough.
Sadly, the Aokigahara suicides aren't the only ones the Japanese government has to worry about. Japan is one of the highest countries for total suicides and in 2006 it was ninth highest in the world. Reasons behind suicides include unemployment, depression and social pressures. In 2009 the Japanese authorities reported an estimated 30,0000 suicides for that year alone. Other then Aokigahara, another popular suicide location in Japan is the railroad tracks for the Chūō Rapid Line.
Due to the nature of many of the photographs taken within Aokigahara, I have decided against posting them directly to this blog. However, I will provide a link for the curious:
WARNING: Photos of Suicide Victims Shown. View at own risk.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed a look into the creepy forest of Aokigahara!
I am just coming off a 5 day stint in the hospital.
It was actually life threatening due to blood loss.
Long story but, I was basically bleeding into my abdomen.
2 vessels were torn.
They kept bleeding until my abdomen couldn't take on any more fluids. That actually stopped the bleeding to a degree , or I'd have died almost immediately.
So.... Stubborn that I am, I refused surgery and a blood transfusion. Surgery.. Yeah no.
I had a friend bring me Chinese herbs the next morning. They stop bleeding cold.
That seemed to help, but I was eating up IV fluids, and when they drew blood, it was taking on the consistency of red watercolor paint.
I had very few red blood cells left, which made breathing difficult, and I was coming close to probably coding and or greatly infarcting my heart muscle.
They had a procedure to stop the bleeding as well. Not surgery... Duh, but as weak as I was,, it was impossible to do.
Yyeeaaahhh, so I had to give in and agree to a transfusion.
I got like 4 bags of packed cells. Maybe more. I was kind of out of it by then.
So, long story short, I had the PROCEDURE Sunday , and I'm out of the hospital today , in my bed, drinking tea.
They wanted to keep me 2 more days, and well, HELL NO.
I'm very pale, weak, but I have the herbs for that now.
I will be ok.... I.... think.
But, in short, I'd love to thank all the people that donate blood.
Without you, a lot of people would die.
I'd donate, but I'm too anemic.
I'm on the bone marrow donor list however.
This is perhaps the most joyous and heartbreaking blog I have ever written, and I'm not sure which is the more likely. In keeping with the new direction of my blog, I'm posting another of my dad's poetry pieces. This is my favourite of all hi works. I don't know if the events recounted here are real, or simply allegorically presented. Due to his spinal disease I know he has gone to faith healers from many different beliefs throughout his life, and whether this is an account of one of them, I do not know. Whether it is or is not, I find myself moved every time I read it. I hope you feel the same.
A Place of Miracles!
There is a place I heard of thrice,
A place, they said of miracles.
A man - some said a mystic,
I once went to see,
To learn what I could,
To heal me if he would.
He led me into his rooms,
Spartan, almost bare - I was somewhat surprised.
At loss for words I stood,
Till he motioned me to sit,
Evening dusk was falling.
He lit some candles plain
That burnt with clear warm light.
I sat in silence all this while;
I thought I'd made an error
To come to this strange man.
But then he spoke of me
As if he were my brother,
And I sat there, saying nothing,
For he spoke all my desires...
Of dreams I had,
Of hopes I held,
Of a search I'd long been on,
(Yet I'd told no man...)
He spoke of pain I had,
We spoke of things I barely knew--
Yet he knew...
He said the hopes, the dreams, desires--
All I was searching for
Were there, within my reach,
And by all who looked.
Yes. That too was there for reasons,
And I would find that answer.
He knew not when or how,
Just said I would--
I asked him why I had to suffer,
Why was I different from most others.
To that, he looked at me in silence,
And in a while
He sighed, and said that pain
Though pointless in itself
Was needed by some,
That sometime I would understand.
I laughed, a bitter sound,
And rose to leave,
And then I thought to ask
How do I find the answers to what I seek.
In silence again he stood,
Calm eyes penetrating.
"Look", he said.
Though I knew there was no more,
A deeper meaning,
I asked no more.
I knew no more he would say
I left as I'd come; no wiser--
As he bid me goodbye he said,
"There is a place of miracles
That those who seek can find.
It is not hidden,
It is open to all who search for it.
Not I, nor anyone can tell you how to find it:"
The night was well along now
As I walked in silence,
Pondering his meaning.
No real answer could I reach...
And on that note, I leave this blog until the next poem. I hope this has touched your heart the way it has touched mine. Blessings to all, whoever you may be.
I am so bored it's insane... Could blow my brains out all over the wall... Make a pretty picture of modern art for some other jerk to clean up. ha.
I am surfing youtube... Some videos just jump out to the male brain... "I kissed a girl" by a hot chick is always worth a click. I felt kind of ripped off, she didn't kiss any of the half dozen or so girls in her video so wth? She's hot still and I like her voice so I'll probably watch it again one of these days maybe. It's that pitch she does when she goes louder. Yes, very technical term but what the hell am I suppose to do? I just describe the things I don't know words for. It works.
Here's the vid for you guys to check out:
I don't know, I'm drawing a blank here. This sounds like one of many other blog entries I just delete randomly about 4 minutes after posting them. I've found more and more I hate sharing personal info about myself lately. I've edited so many of my posts lately when I actually do post. Just been reading threads instead. Not sure if I want to go back into the x-men kiddies section again... Last time I was reading there I wanted to kick someone in the head. Who knows, maybe then they would get psychic powers? Only one way to find out I guess...
Oh, watched Starship Troopers 3 last night. I really love the series. And! We got to see the hot blonde Russian or something in that area naked. Plus the rest of the movie was excellent. If you're too stupid to know what the film is about please don't watch it and then complain about your ignorance later. It's satire you morons. And in this newest one they took a well placed shot at christianity, which of course made my heart all warm and fuzzy inside. Do you want to know more?
Well, I am sorry for wasting your time. Kind of.
Drilling precise holes in stone:
A reference on Maori stoneworking:
More examples of hand-powered stone-cutting methods:
Today’s Topic… Legal Defense.
First, citizens, let’s address the obvious. We, the human race, have evolved to accept the notion that those two words, Legal and Defense can even co-exist in a single phrase, let alone make perfect, if not obvious sense to us.
This is akin to the irony of the assignation of “Department of Justice” to the elitists who are little more than cowboys, culling the herd and moving it along the trail to slaughter.
And that is why all of you ought to pay attention.
Legal Defense. Of course this is a necessary if not required element of our existence in a civilized society, an idea slathered onto our consciousness, that bond of superiority and fear which seal us all together in one mind.
Allow me to be innocent, for a moment. I promise not to strain your ability to do so any longer than is necessary to stretch your mind until it snaps open. Allow me to be naïve, trusting, and without the tarnish of experience and express to you the notion that one should not ever have to defend oneself from the law, if the law is Just. Defense is a response to aggression, assault, or invasion. I submit that in spite of our collective awareness and assent, we have created a system that provides no Justice, but instead preys upon the very ones who are submitted to it.
As a citizen of the United States of America, I am privileged to have access to the finest legal system in the world. That right there, the reality that we have the very finest legal system available, my fellow citizens, ought scare you to your core. And if you have had any experience with this most superior Justice System, you already know that fear.
We all rely on our superior American morality to assure us individually that while our system my not be perfect it sure is great, and rarely if ever mistaken, or almost never arbitrary and never ever vindictive, and most definitely not terroristic, nor even the one of the finest tools of population control and manipulation ever devised.
I realize there is no appealing to the middle class, those who fear God enough to tow the line, pay their taxes, pledge allegiance, go to Church and vote. There will always remain a core of untouchables who are left alone to keep the system properly fed, not simply with their tax dollars, but by their sheer compliance, an alliance forged from the naïve notion that their silence will save them, and the assurance that just as long as they do not stir up the herd, little Billy will be left unmolested by the System and allowed to continue on to college and fatherhood, and become the citizen they require to keep the less desirable behind bars and out of the gene pool.
If you are asking yourself, “What’s wrong with that?”, you should just close out this browser and move along. But be assured, these practices which you ignore and thereby condone today will be knocking on your door very soon, and by then it will be too late.
If you are outraged, not because of my comments, but because you already understand these things by your own personal experience, or perhaps because your dream of justice for all was quashed the day you realized in order to succeed in the legal profession you must abandon justice altogether, I ask you to consider joining me in a Class Action Suite for Fraud against the United States Department of Justice.
We will not be so naïve as to pursue change through the Courts. We will pursue change through hearts and minds, by empowering our fellow citizens with Solidarity. We will speak our truth, declare our innocence, shed our oppression and shatter the bonds of tyranny built on fabrication, lies and the elitist agendas which seek to destroy those deemed undesirable.
How that is accomplished is up to you.
Please consider this blog your forum to propose solutions or to tell your own story of how the Justice System of this country has effected your life.
If you are afraid to talk about what has happened to you or someone you care about, if your story involves someone still in the system, or vulnerable to retaliation under incarceration, please continue to support this blog with your presence and tell your friends. The cumulative hits alone send a message and are one more tool of empowerment available to the disenfranchised.
If you have been able to move past your fear, you may use this blog to archive any and all information regarding your experience with the Justice System. However, I highly recommend you do so via www.startpage.com or another search engine which will hide your true identity online. Then ask yourself why you even feel the need to hide from your government while participating in your God given inalienable rights. And how long are you willing to live in fear of your government?
If you are not afraid, if your think there is no reason to fear your Department of Justice, your government, then please ask yourself why so many others are afraid, and consider lending your voice, your presence to ours and together we may present a higher ideal which may not correct anything in our Department of Corrections, but may equip you to stand and even to save yourselves in that day when every citizen is besieged by those who have here-to-fore practiced on the rest of us.
“Give me liberty, or give me death.” The words of a criminal, so judged and executed by men who practiced the same the very ideals of The Elite who sit on your courts today.
Our system of Justice operates in part at the discretion of the citizen juror. The courts are strictly limited by the jurors. If a courts cannot seat a jury, or if a jury finds the law invalid, the system of justice grinds to a halt, and the people become the Court, the lawmakers and the ones who decide. This requires a great deal of awareness and concerted effort by the populous who is otherwise obtuse in their sense of immunity to any miscarriage of justice. The first step of awareness is removal of the rose colored glasses. I’ll give you a little time to do that, and return later.
Disclaimer: In no way am I suggesting that the Justice System is the only means used by our Masters to control our lives. They have many more.
Next Topic of the Day: “A Better Idea ~ Refusing to Participate”.
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I have not been this angry since that time someone killed those fishes for no reason (don't ask).
Honestly, I know not why I am this angry, but there was someone who dishonored me, perhaps that is a reason. Assuming I am something so low, it is simply insulting. It's like mockery. I do not stab someone from behind or attack someone for no reason. I am not someone of deception like most. And it makes me outraged to think someone dares think such of I. I of the darkest realms! I am not so low that the only way I could win was to stab someone in the back! It's a grave, grave insult on my weary core.
Bah! And I also have found that someone is awakening long gone demons and trying to force them to work for him.
Perhaps that is what make me the most outrageous. Slavery! How dare he? Demons are not tools to be used!!! It's respect-less doing something like that to demons. It makes me outraged to know someone dares to mock freedom. For what do people chain us? Why? What does it bring but hatred!!! Demons, humans, souls, whatever, does it actually mater what one are? We all exist.
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When I travelled to whatever hospital needed, me on any particular day--many out of town--I noticed that I was seeing lots birds of pray! It was the eleven year Swanson Hawk death by starvation cycle. They were perched by the highway hoping for roadkill.
So, I got one of those huge, coffee table, exhaustive books on the subject of birds of pray. I read about the ones I saw in our area first. Then I read about all the rest.
Well, that is the kind of information I retain well, because I can call it up so often to see if I observe any of the things I read while traveling around and watching for every opportunity to spot them from the highway.
Now my drives weren't so boring. I could identify the type of bird and watch its behaviors. Then I could record the date, time, and place I saw it. I got to where I knew where every hawk would be at any given time of the day. That is because I watched them for over the eight years I traveled through the region I worked. I could even tell you when some of them would use the restroom, they are that predictable. Everything seems to be on a schedule with birds.
Red tail hawks always land somewhere near the victim before they attack. Swanson hawks and red tail hawks are the same size, weight, food supply, build, perch posture, but their markings are different. They interbreed although they are separate species. So, distinguishing which of the two kinds they are can be tricky.
Sometimes Swansons Hawks will perch before a capture. Sometimes they will not.
Marsh hawks are about the same size but very different. If you face them head-on-head, they look like an owl, but their profile view is that of a hawk. They never attack from a perch
They fly parallel lines, with the highway usually, and each line is a sortie of about twelve feet high and twelve feet parallel with the last line of flight, from fence post of a farm field to the next fence post, at the other end of the field.
Marsh hawks perch at a 60 degree angle when on a fence post or tree limb perching. Red tail and Swansons' perch vertically, and sometimes can not be distinguished from the fence post. Great horned owls are that way, as well.
In the case of the owl it keeps the little birds away, because they don't identify that the owl is there. Little birds like to gang up on owls all the time in the daytime, and won't allow them to sleep because they capture their young for food, and are hated for hunting and finding little defenseless birds in the dark of night.
[Perhaps to be continued at a later time.]
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A Solution to our Healthcare Problem
So I have come up with a solution to the healthcare problem in America. I have a solution that will provide better care to those who want it, while reducing costs. In America, nearly 50% of people do not believe in evolution but rather believe in creationism. They call biology “Darwinian Evolution” as if it is some type of belief. Educated people call it science. Nearly half of the people in the United States do not accept biology as science and prefer the notion that “God did it.” Because of this, I have a solution to our healthcare problem. It consists of a 2 part program.
The first part of the program is called Darwinian Healthcare. The people that accept science and modern medicine are able to take part in this program and benefit from modern medicine. People in this program will be able to take advantage of scientific advancements in medicine in the past few hundred years, which will provide them with basically every treatment, know to man today.
The second part of the program is called Jesus Care. This is for people who do not accept Darwinism (biology) and modern science as scientific fact. Their treatment will involve going to a church and praying.
This is simply a system in which one chooses receives the benefits of their beliefs. If you believe science is false, you can pray to heal your illnesses…If you accept science you can use modern medicine to heal your illnesses. We must have these 2 systems so that people do not take advantage of a system they do not believe in. I mean if biology has allowed us to come up with a flu shot and discover cures to diseases, why should those that find it evil benefit from it? They do not want this evil part of their life do they?
By having this 2 part system, and sending half of the population to churches, we will be able to cut out healthcare costs in half! We will also be able to satisfy those that do not want to be subjected to the religion of Darwinism.
You are welcome America.