Thursday, April 27, 2017

Predation Nation

I’ve been playing my saxophone more of late.  I’m not very good, but I can string together a tune by ear.  It reveals enough to me to know that I am being taught by something inside myself—and nowhere else.    

Everybody has qualities to teach them this but most don’t pay attention to the lessons given; unless there’s money in it.  Most remain at the same level all the way to the bitter end because they allow other lost souls to tell them what to believe, even regarding ourselves.     

As I’ve alluded to somewhat already, I come from a dysfunctional family.  It’s taken me years of inner work to free myself from its clutches, and still I remain only partly successful in overcoming its influences.       

But I also know that my parents had it worse than I did growing up.  And what they did foolishly was through unconscious conditioning and not out of malice.  That mentality is left to those at a higher level in this game. 

As with many of us, I’ve had a “hard row to hoe” (as my grandmother put it after understanding my mentality).  Bushwhacking to make our own trail is often fraught with peril.  I had an idea of what I was getting myself into a long time ago.  I just didn’t understand how difficult it would sometimes be.  But I’ve found that the well-traveled path turns into a conveyer belt somewhere down the line, and that’s not for me.    

Those who have tasted the whip of violence early in their lives react to this trauma in different ways.  But one of those ways is to be drawn to it.  Whether wearing a uniform or a mask, they like to inflict (and sometimes receive) pain.  In doing so, they repeat the cycle of violence which began at home.

I have no doubt that most who are now wearing a uniform are coming from this vicious cycle of abuse.  Why else would they continue to blindly serve the whims of predators threatening their own extinction? 

Again, most of this violence is rooted in child abuse, pure and simple.  Time for us to grow up and get past our conditioning.

This is not something that will change overnight as we’ve become a nation of predation with the greatest rewards coming to those who most diligently serve this depraved system.  And when I say system, I mean all of it, from the genocidal god we were taught to believe to the genocidal president that many still worship as a god.  This is no accident and fits into their control system quite well.

Do you not see the tyrant in you?  I certainly do in me.  But it is alien to my true nature and those who point it out when I become this conditioned response devoid of impulse-control are doing me a great service.

 This is how we overcome the predator in ourselves; by assisting others in their awakening we can overcome these same weaknesses.  That’s what true love is all about. 

But instead of working through our problems in a conscious and civilized manner, the use of force to gain compliance continues to be perpetrated by dysfunctional families across America.  Is it any wonder that these parents are now receiving the same treatment from their government?  This sick symbiotic relationship feeds upon itself and creates sadistic enforcers of a government that has now become a clear and present danger to what’s left of our liberty.      

In order to gain control of the situation, we must first transcend the psycho-spiritual traumas experienced by being a part of our own dysfunctional families.  Much of this lies in forgiveness.  With few exceptions, our parents didn’t know what they were doing as they were done in by their own unconscious parents. 

Here’s a thought.  Be thankful that you weren’t corrupted by parents who understood the abuse they were heaping upon you as it was all part of their Satanic “Cremation of care” sacrifice of their child so they would grow up to be as evil and psychopathic as them.  George W. Bush comes to mind. 

One way to break the spell of our conditioning is to reach a point where we can see the aberrant behavior of our parents reflected in ourselves.  The more awakened a mind, the less it will follow anything blindly, including its previous conditioning. 

When it comes to truth, you know or you don’t know.  And often, you don’t know why you know.  You just do.  And when enough of us wanting to follow that knowing becomes stronger than the outside influences, we will be on our way to no longer following anyone or anything on the outside that runs counter to this inner knowing. 

Time to drop our dysfunctional family of those who want power over us and start a new and better one that makes a conscious choice to live in harmony.       













Thursday, April 20, 2017

In the Desert

The Traveler finally made it to the base of the escarpment he had seen throughout the day on his march across the hot desert sands.  Once again, he had found the shade necessary to protect him from the crucible he had been cast into by servants of a system that had previously controlled virtually every aspect of his life.          

But even in the shade, the heat played tricks on his mind and made him think of things that would otherwise remain locked away.  The memories of what brought him here weighed heavy upon him during these times.

It was something he could never forget.  After all, his life was this way because of it.  He had been found guilty of acts that had turned him into a ghost in the eyes of friends and family alike.

He had been sentenced to banishment. 

It would always come rushing back to him during these few moments of respite; always thinking of where he went wrong.  His parents had told him that his lack of respect for “authority” would get him into trouble one day. 

Once again, he wondered what made a person into an authority figure.  These people had not always been in such positions.  The Traveler had reached the conclusion that how much ass one was willing to kiss on the way up as well as the ability to backstab your competitors played a major part in moving up the ladder.  The Traveler now thought that this was a big reason for the collapsing empire he had been removed from.  It’s what happens when the most characterless and ruthless of people are allowed into positions of power.

Due to this observation, it would hardly come as a surprise to know that the Traveler had cut out the tracking device beneath the skin of his right hand within the first few days of his banishment.  But as usual, there was a price to pay for his non-compliance. There would be no drop zones for food and supplies.  He would have to live off the land. 

Also, he had been threatened with more disciplinary measures by those who had brought him here if he failed to follow their rules.  Strangely, he had seen no planes at all after he had been flown in. 

At first it was difficult for him.  He had run out of the water he had been given on his third day in the desert.  He could locate no more.  But on the next morning, he awakened to find a cache of supplies next to him.  He had heard nothing the night before. 

Over the months that followed, the supplies that kept him alive continued to be left for him but in lesser amounts than before.  As his skills in foraging for food as well as finding the water holes improved, the amount of supplies left for him decreased.  It was as if his benefactor knew what he needed. 

Earlier on, the Traveler had received a note in his supplies simply stating, “Twenty-yard perimeter.”  Afterwards, he walked a circle around his campsite each morning.  There was not always supplies, but there would always be some indicator that they had been there, although he never saw any footprints.  He soon understood that the location of his discoveries pointed in the direction they wanted him to go.      

The great expanse of desert had taken him many months to travel across.  He had lost weight during this time and he was in much better physical shape than before he had been sent here.     

The desert had also changed him spiritually.  The open and distant landscape had affected him in a way that had also opened his mind.  If not for the loneliness he sometimes suffered, the Traveler would have been content in accepting his fate.  But he was also curious to find out who was responsible for assisting him in staying alive.

One day, he came upon a strange rock formation.  Upon approaching, he now saw that it was a cave.  Sitting just outside the opening was a man with a long-flowing beard.  The Traveler could not help but notice a look in the man’s eyes, but he couldn’t understand what it meant.

“So, you finally made it,” said the Old Man. 

“You were the one sending me supplies?” asked the Traveler.
The Old Man smiled.  The Traveler noticed that the Old Man also had a scar on his hand that was similar to his own. 

“We’ve been helping you out until you got on your feet, so to speak,” he said.
“You’ve been watching me all this time?”

“Let me discuss other things with you before I answer that,” said the Old Man.
“Okay,” replied the Traveler.
“You were banished due to what you wrote on your blog” said the Old Man.  It was not a question.

“Yes,” said the Traveler looking him squarely in the eyes.      

The Old Man nodded. “Why did you remove your chip?” the Old Man asked.  “Did you think you could survive without them sending in supplies to your location? 

“I didn’t care,” the Traveler said angrily.  “I’d rather be dead than dependent upon those bastards.” 
The Old Man laughed.  “If it makes you feel any better, you would have died anyway waiting for them,” he said.  “They never bring supplies.  They also figure that you will remove your chip anyway as this would be consistent with the nature of those sent here, so they don’t keep track of you either.  As a matter of fact, their entire program ended months ago, right after they dropped you off.”

The Traveler thought for a moment.  “Is that why I never saw any planes?” he asked.

“Yes,” said the Old Man.  They don’t bring in prisoners anymore.”  

“Why did they stop?” the Traveler asked.

The Old Man laughed.  “I suppose they have more important things to attend to now.  Your country of origin is currently fighting both a civil and world war.  And it looks like the government is losing both of them.  The guerilla warfare going on at home is disrupting their control system.”

“Damn,” said the Traveler.  That’s the same sort of stuff I wrote about on my blog.”

“Yes,” said the Old Man.  “And you were not alone.”

“How many other prisoners have been brought here?” the Traveler asked.

“Come with me,” said the Old Man.

The Traveler followed the Old Man into the opening of what turned out to be a massive cave.  The Old Man picked up a torch that shined a sort of light that the Traveler had never seen before as it lit up the entire cavern.  They entered a sort of labyrinth. Without the Old Man’s assistance, the Traveler would have soon become lost. 

Upon reaching daylight on the other side, the scene opened to a huge lush valley with a great river running through the middle of it.  The Old Man led him into the village.  The villagers looked up from their labors as he approached.  He noted that each adult carried a scar upon their hands.  The children, all of whom had been born here at this oasis, were free from these blemishes.     

“You must understand,” said the Old Man, following the Traveler’s gaze.  “We are all rebels by nature.  That’s why we were sent here.”

“You know,” said the Traveler, “When I first was brought here to the desert, I felt bad that I had let down those close to me by being labeled a criminal.  But after my travels in the desert, I now know that it was they who were the ones that were wrong.  At least I tried to alert others to the approaching tyranny.  They just laid down for it.”

“And now they suffer the fate of not heeding our warnings; the same inner warnings that they also denied,” said the Old Man.

The Traveler shook his head sadly.  Looking around, he now realized that the villagers had become quiet and were watching him intently.  Their gaze was the same as he had first seen in the Old Man.  Yet he still did not understand.    

The villagers soon returned to their tasks.  “People look happy here,” said the Traveler, continuing to glance around.

“Yes,” said the Old Man.  “It’s much different than where you came from.  We don’t have systems to run people’s lives anymore.  We help each other here.  We build each other’s homes taken from the timber,” the old man pointed to the stand of trees in the distance.  “We grow our own food.  We live simple lives.”

“How did you ever find this place?” asked the Traveler.

The Old Man began walking and motioned for him to follow.
The Old Man led the Traveler deeper into the village until they came upon two large wooden buildings.  The tallest one held a tower.  The energy emanating from it was enormous.

“This is the type of tower first created by Tesla,” the Old Man said.  “But perhaps it goes back further than that.  We have scientists here that now help maintain it but they did not create it.  It was here before anyone arrived.  At least anyone who was still alive.  I know this because I was the first to be led here.”

“What do you mean?” asked the Traveler.   

“I have more to show you,” the Old Man said leading the way to the next structure.  This building contained a giant mainframe computer. 

“Just as you, I was directed here through artificial intelligence,” said the Old Man.  “But unlike you, there was no one else here when I arrived.”

“How could that be?” asked the traveler.

“We’re not sure,” said the Old Man.  “But there’s more.  On the edge of the village, we have a hanger housing the drones that are powered through the energy of the tower implemented through the A.I. of the computer.
The Traveler thought for a moment.  “So, it was the drones that brought me supplies?”

“That’s right,” said the Old Man.  “We always knew where you were because of them as they are also equipped with cameras.” 

The Traveler thought for a moment.  “I noticed that they took me on a circuitous route to get here while I was in the desert,” he said.  “Why did they do that?”

“You needed more time in the desert to burn out all your false beliefs.” 

“You know, I thought I was going to die,” said the Traveler.  “I would have died without the supplies.”

“How did you feel about that?”
“I was afraid at first,” the Traveler said.  “But I came to terms with it at some point.  I mean, supplies or not, the heat alone can kill you.  Like you said, I needed the time to burn out the ways of the world I came from.  The systems of that world had nothing to offer me other than their demands for my blind obedience. 
“Yes, it was bad even when I was there,” said the Old Man.  “And that was fifty years ago.  I don’t want to think about what it’s like to live in that kind of society now.  In the end, this “civilization” we both came from used its technology for warfare as well as feeding the hive mind its distractions in order to hide from the atrocities committed in their name.” 

“Were the others brought here for the same reasons as me?” asked the Traveler.

“Yes,” said the Old Man.  “They were all activists of some kind, standing against the system and exposing the corrupt motives of those who served it.” 

“And now they are all here.”

“That’s right,” said the Old Man.  “We were brought here to their desert purgatory while they flew back to the hell of their own creation.”

“It looks like your creation is better,” said the Traveler looking around the village. 

“We have found balance in our lives,” said the Old Man walking over to where some of the villagers were planting a garden.
“We utilize the technology that we have been given, but we also understand the importance of staying connected to the earth.”
“But how did all this come out of the desert?” The Traveler asked incredulously looking at the lush fields and the river. 

“All we know is that whoever developed the technology also created all this,” said the Old Man. 

The Traveler nodded. “So, everyone here has come out of the desert except for the children born here?” asked the Traveler.

“Yes,” said the Old Man.  “But when the children come of age, they too will travel into the desert.  It is a type of vision quest for them.
“You send them into the desert?”

“Yes,” the Old Man replied.  “And not only the children. You could probably guess this, but we have almost no crime here.  We practice the non-aggression principle and wish only to live in harmony with one another.” 

“But for those who have become unbalanced, they go back into the desert, most often of their own accord.  The desert burns away the dross in our character.  The time you spent out there was the time you needed to burn away yours.”
The Traveler realized that this was true.

“How did you know the amount of time I needed to spend in the desert?” he asked
The Old Man was silent.
“You didn’t know,” said the Traveler.  “The computer did.”

“Yes,” said the Old Man.  “Or whoever created it.” 

“But how can that be,” asked the Traveler.

“We have no idea!” The Old Man laughed.  “But it knows just the same.” 


As the sun began to set, the villagers came together once again to more formally greet their newest member and prepare the evening meal.  They had already built a small house for the Traveler as they had already known of his upcoming arrival.     

The Traveler was now finally able to read the faces of the villagers.  It was a look of respect (something he had been unused to seeing where he had come from).  He also understood that, along with himself, they too had suffered greatly for remaining true to themselves. 

Back in their old world, they had left a trail of lost relationships with friends and family and jobs that had come and gone, as most they had tried to reach preferred to remain with their cozy little lies rather than heed the warnings of those who stood before him now.  To various degrees, these men and women had all endured the isolation and derision from the mindless masses in the countries they had been banished from.   

But most importantly, they had all come out of the desert.

“Namaste, my friends,” said the soul who had reached the end of its journey.  “It’s good to be home.”

The Old Man smiled.


Sunday, April 16, 2017

Children of a Lesser God

With the arrival of Easter, I’m reminded of my strange, fascinating and sometimes horrifying religious upbringing.  All of these emotional triggers were mixed into the bible which accompanied me to Sunday school every week. 
Growing up Southern Baptist in Texas in the 60’s, the "fire and brimstone" meme was still going strong.  The entire story always ended with “believe and obey without question” or burn in hell juxtaposed with repentance and forgiveness.  It kept the kids both confused and in line and, if it didn’t, the rod was rarely spared when it became necessary for reinforcement.  I grew up back in the day when you could hear the kid getting paddled in the next room.  Our educators did this as a deterrent for misbehavior.  It met with moderate success, but there were always those who bucked the system, receiving more punishment than others.
I was not one of them.  Due to such a fine job of conditioning, I stayed between the lines.  But for various reasons, the resistance in me began to become stronger by high school.  It continues to this day. 

But the good thing about my religion, strange and scary as it may have been, had to do with the Jesus character.  And just to be clear, I no longer believe in the story of Jesus literally.  But that doesn’t mean that there are not important lessons to be learned through this eternal story in which archetypes abound.

No matter whether they propped up the Savior for human sacrifice, tried to scare people into believing in him (Christianity only took off when non-believers were put to the sword) or all the other subtle ways they keep the mind on the official story, I couldn’t help but find him captivating.     

The Jesus story was entirely different than those of the Old Testament.  And despite the sadomasochistic imaginings placed in the mind and spiritual extortion he continues to be used for to this day, something about this character could not help but shine through.

The characteristics of compassion, forgiveness, love, acceptance and all the things that touch our hearts and make us human, he encompassed them all.  And still they mock his essence by trying to scare us into seeking his love.  The desire to come into the light has nothing to do with fear, unless it’s fear of losing spiritual protection for mind and body against the onslaught of things like religion.

 I sometimes wonder if so many of the Jews who appear to have lost these higher qualities would have benefitted from the same “Jesus indoctrination program” that I was fed.  It doesn’t seem like these characteristics are very important to them.  But they are important to me and those of my kind.  Even if I don’t possess much of these qualities myself, I still yearn for them.

But for the Jews, all they got was the “hammer” from beginning to end; where problems are solved with severe violence and a hope that they too won’t get the “thumbs down” sign when the time comes.  No cog-dis there.  Just say your prayers over the sounds of the screams around you. 

As Easter coincides with the vernal equinox, the resurrection of the sun signifies a potential rebirth for all of humanity.  May we find a way to break away from this lesser god and recognize the true meaning of our lives. 

“We can accept God becoming Man to save Man, but not Man becoming God to save himself.”—Vernon Howard 








Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Never Smile at a Crocodile

“Never smile at a Crocodile

 Never tip your hat and stop to talk awhile

 Don’t be taken in by his big wide grin

 He’s imagining how well you’d fit within his skin.”

I’ve been called for jury duty this month.  At their orientation, they were sure to thank us for doing our civic duty.  But they didn’t bother telling us that we could be arrested and/or fined if we didn’t show up without giving them a good reason first.  They were smiling as they spoke.

The man taking a beating from the thugs of United Airlines shows very clearly what happens when we fail to comply.  This provides yet another example of what any of us could get if we don’t obey on command.  That’s one of the reasons why they made an example of this man.

When you allow those in high places to get away with something that the rest of us would be imprisoned for, you end up with a justice system and its police “force” that has gone rogue.   As we continue to aggress upon other countries for schizophrenic reasons (killing more on behalf of those killed), it follows that the level of aggression against the people here at home would also increase.  Evidence of this is now commonplace due to the enforcers ramping up their level of brutality as well as the technology that captures it and sends across the world.

In the past, I’ve worked with the developmentally disabled in my community.  Unfortunately, these organizations that employed me still wish to be part of a militaristic vertical hierarchy that is harmful to my soul so I can’t work within these confines for very long before I find myself turning back into a pod person.  The more I compromise myself, the more I must lose myself in materialism as a distraction from my servitude.  But that’s for another story.

Anyway, I know many people with disabilities running around loose in the world.  They are the only group of people that I have any respect for.  As for the reasons, let’s just say that it’s a valuable lesson to see what it looks like when someone will not tolerate belittlement in favor of conventionality. 

But, as with all groups, you have the bad apples also.  I was speaking with someone I had previously worked with in this field.  We talked about our clients with disabilities and what they were doing now. 

I asked the lady about one person in particular.  He certainly was not always a likeable fellow, but I had wondered about him as he didn’t seem to be learning his lessons regarding cause and effect very well.  For background, the guy was the typical bully and required repeated correction due to picking on his co-workers.    

Now he’s a security guard who carries a gun on the job.  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.  Low intelligence coupled with a thirst for power appears to be the only prerequisites for joining the “force” these days.

So be cautious in your encounters when entering the waters of “civilized society” these days, my friends.  One never knows what lurks just beneath the surface of their uniform smiles.



Saturday, April 8, 2017

The Fix is In

Charles Comiskey, the owner of the 1919 Chicago White Sox, was a chiseler that refused to pay his players what they were worth.  This made them susceptible to corruption.  The players were approached by gamblers to throw the World Series against the Cincinnati Reds that year in exchange for money. 

Arnold Rothstein, a Jewish mob boss, probably played a big part in this scandal, but nothing was ever proven.  Seems that the previous records of the grand jury confessions by the players had been lost during the trial.  

In the movie, “Eight Men Out,” the gamblers knew that the fix was in after the pitcher hit the first batter. 

As more information unfolds, we’re finding that Trump had missiles dropped on an almost empty airbase that did so little damage that they are still flying out of there and that many of the missiles failed to hit their intended target.  This sort of thing reminds me of the Israelis bombing their own (stolen) territory resulting in little real damage so they can justify launching their newest weapons systems on the Palestinians.  Arms buyers then get a product that has been battlefield tested. 

But why did Trump have this done?  Was it a beta-test to see how his supporters would react?

I’m beginning to wonder if this strike was a precursor for another false-flag “retaliation” a little further down the line.  If there was no real damage, are their factions within Syria and Russia that are also a part of this?  And why was the Chinese president visiting Trump at the time the missiles were being fired?

Although acquitted at trial due to insufficient evidence, eight of the White Sox players (now forever known as the Black Sox) were banned from professional baseball for life.  This included Shoeless Joe Jackson who batted .375 during the Series.

Currently, I don’t know how many other players are involved in this latest scam.  All I know for sure is that Trump just hit the first batter.    


Thursday, April 6, 2017

Have a Heart

The last vestiges of the Trump subterfuge program fell away with the bombs dropped on Syria.  Not much of an investigation before this response, eh?

I gave it six months before Trump would show his true colors.  He has now officially become yet another in a long line of bought-and-paid-for Zionist sell-out chicken hawk scum-bags who have destroyed America like a cancer. 

This foolish act ratchets up the danger to a whole new level.  Now that the rest of the world knows that it’s going to get even worse from Trump than Obama, it won’t take much of a spark to set this off. 

But never mind Trump.  What about those who would still support him at this point.  There’s something that has happened to America since 9/11.  Something worse than anything else and continues to be the cause of why things keep going so badly.  America has lost its heart.

Generally, I’m not a very social person.  And I don’t particularly like people very much, especially in groups.  But if you don’t feel sick at heart to know that innocent people are once again being slaughtered over a pack of lies, you must have something very wrong with you.  These people were never a threat to us. 

In order to no longer feel anything at all about any of this, you must be worshipping a brutal Jewish god, forced to make a living using phony Jewish money, fighting and supporting wars orchestrated by Jewish-controlled agencies, believed the cause of these wars fed to you by the Jewish-controlled media, and think that after you’ve served this evil calling itself good that Jesus is going to take you away from the destruction that you blindly contributed to through a second-hand belief system written by monsters who want you dead because the butcher they worship likes it that way.

When belief means more than observing behavior and judging for yourself whether it’s right or wrong, there’s really no telling how far away from reality your mind can be taken.  After all, FEMA camp guards need to believe in what they’re doing also. 

Each bomb dropped and bullet fired elsewhere increases the Police State build-up here at home.  Severe repercussions are coming soon. 

May those of us who still have a heart find a way to preserve it despite what we may be called to do when standing against this tyranny and those who would carry it out.         





Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Best Western

Author’s Note:  Back in the days of my wayward youth, I had occasion to interact with the police more often than I do today.  I was generally at fault and they always dealt with me professionally and used no more force than was necessary to take me away.  The youth of today are not so fortunate to find themselves in such a forgiving environment.  The war has been brought home. 


One of my favorite Western’s that I watched when I was a kid was Gunsmoke.  I liked the way Marshal Dillon did his job. 

If someone new walked into the bar looking suspicious, Matt would ask him questions to get a feel for why he was there and what he was about.  He was looking for violence in the person so he would know how to deal with him.  If he didn’t pick up on something bad about them he would leave them alone.  This shows discretion and going with your gut. 

The gamblers were often more difficult than the outlaws to size up as they were clever and could hide their true intentions better.  Matt would often know what he was dealing with before he could prove it-- and he would let them know it.  But he wouldn’t arrest them merely upon suspicion. 

Men carried guns on their hips back then.  When living in such a society, those who enforce the law are not going to sweat the small stuff.  There weren’t so many laws back then.  Just the ones about not aggressing upon or otherwise violating others.  And, as with the real-life Wyatt Earp, Matt Dillon stood between the criminal and the townspeople and protected them. 

The modern-day law enforcement officer bears little resemblance to what Marshal Dillon represented back then.  Their behavior is more akin to the outlaw of old who  enforce the laws made by the gamblers (of our money). 

The cops where I live have been handing out parking tickets for those not having Snow Park permits on their cars.  Snow parks are now pretty much anywhere that has been plowed out and has a place to park.  And you’re not going to be able to get one of these permits unless you buy it in town. 

In the Summer, they patrol the lakes in the region in boats (and the trucks that pull them) that are much nicer than those of their victims taken from the loot of their plunder of the public.  These watercraft enthusiasts are no longer even free enough to drink a cold beer while kicking back in their boats on a hot summer day without being hassled by the Screws.   Even the prisoners on the Shawshank Redemption had it better than that. 

And watch out for those invasive barnacles on the bottom of your boat.  This is the sort of justification used for taking more money out of their pockets for a boat inspection.

These lakes and snow parks are well out of civilization in the wilderness areas.  Who’s minding the store in town when the cops are protecting us from these “criminals” who or either too poor to pay or would rather risk a fine than contribute to this extortion racket?  

It also appears that the manufactured poverty by those handing down the orders has become too much of an enticement for police departments across the country not to further bleed their community dry through the implementation of such things as speed traps, sobriety check-points, SWAT team drug raids and civil asset forfeiture. 

In addition, it now requires little police training for soldiers transitioning back from the wars overseas.  This, along with IDF training, pretty much sums up how they see us. 

I never saw Marshal Dillon put other lives in danger when it was unnecessary, even the outlaws.  Why kick in a door when you can wait for the criminal to come out and pick them up at your leisure while providing less risk of harming others?  Can you say Waco?

Personally, I would be feeling much better about whatever may soon be in store for us if I could trust the police to do what their primary job should be and PROTECT US FROM VIOLENT CRIMINALS!  But since they are taking their orders from the worst of the criminals themselves, I’m not seeing how this is going to end very well. 

The enemy of humanity has always been the bully and predator.  Whether they be terrorists or those in uniform, it doesn’t matter.  Marshal Dillon was the sworn enemy of these types.  It’s time for those in uniform to decide which side of natural law they are going to be on. 

Or perhaps most have already shown us through their behavior. 






Saturday, April 1, 2017

Stumblebums in the Land of Nod

Over the last few weeks, I’ve made some feeble attempts to get my work out there on the bigger sites or reach out to others in some way.  But I can see that they don’t trust me.  It may be that I have used a different e-mail address to contact them in the past or I am held in suspicion for not using my real name.  Or the stench of the site I once contributed to will never wash off.
Anything out of the ordinary is a red-flag these days and “paranoia runs deep” in the world we now find ourselves in as government infiltration of the Liberty Movement is a constant reality. 
But I have no ulterior motives other than wishing to thank others for their work or the desire to gain a bit more traffic on the dusty and indistinct trail now leading to my site.   

The truth is that I’m barely computer literate enough to even start a blog.  I lost my last website due to not knowing what I was doing.  This site is as basic as it gets and I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time. 
For those of us who learned to type on an electric or even manual typewriter, I suppose I’m not alone in feeling more than a little bit lost due to the level of technology required to do the job right these days. 
Granted, I am learning to use the statistics regarding the few that are visiting my site.  I’m learning to use this surveillance system like a good little spy as we are now all being conditioned to keep an (electronic) eye on each other.  

There are those who put monetary gain above all else though they would tell you otherwise.  There are those who now tell us that a politician will save us when they previously told us that all politicians were puppets, especially at the highest levels.  There are those whose heads are so far in the clouds that their feet no longer touch the ground.  There are those who are government snitches that have helped create this sick environment we all now find ourselves in which leads to isolation and self-imposed restrictions that weaken our resolve and impedes our ability to stand together against the common enemy.  We’re too busy making enemies of each other.  Whether this is real or imagined makes no difference as the results are the same.

And then there are those of us who are stumblebums in the land of Nod.  At this stage, about all we can do is keep falling forward and do what we’re given to do whether trusted by others or not no matter the small number of readers.

After all, we never know who we may reach and what difference they could make because of it.