Saturday, December 28, 2013

Where Is My War?

Listen to this song - Frank Marino Stories Of A Hero
My Grandfather had his war.
My Father had his war.
I could have had my war in the early 1990s, except for the fact that I wrecked a bike in 1983 and fucked up my body enough to classify me "4F", so the Army wouldn't take me, and neither would the Marine Corps. I tried. Recruiters turned me away. Probably for the best, I reckon. Who knows what may have happened. I might have been killed, or had limbs blown off, any number of possible outcomes.

My Grandfather fought in WW1, came back alive, but different. My Father fought in WW2, came back alive, but different. (Mean is how I remember him.) My cousin fought in Vietnam, came home alive, but different. My brothers both got lucky, if you choose to call it that. One went to Penn State, the other had a high number and never got drafted. Since I incarnated into this realm in '65, I missed Vietnam entirely. Desert Storm would've been my war, except as luck (or divine providence, or fate, or what have you) would have it, I'm walking around with metal in my body, and Uncle Sam said "Fuck you, you're not fit to die for me anymore, go get a job." So I did. Quite a number of jobs, in fact. Some of them were even legal.

But I may yet get my war. My war might be right here, defending my Native Homeland against forces of tyranny, both foreign and domestic. It's a far better death to die fighting for what one believes, to die fighting one's enemy, to die fighting, than to die a slave. Far better to die fighting than to live out ones days as a sheep, grazing placidly, obeying the rules, following the leader all the way to the slaughterhouse. Patrick Henry said "Give me liberty or give me death." I saw something recently that said "Give me liberty, or I'll get up and get it myself!" I kinda like that philosophy.
Fuck fascism, fuck totalitarianism, fuck corporatism, fuck communism, fuck the banks and the politicians who sell us out to the highest bidder, fuck the illuminati, fuck hierarchy, fuck oligarchy, fuck theocracy, and fuck the offworlders who try and influence events here on our planet. Yeah.
This is our home, we were born here. This is our Mother. Are we going to sit idly by while a group of intergalactic grunts from another solar system order our so-called leaders to make us a part of their collective? I, for one, am not.
Baa, moo, oink, whinny. Woof, meow, snarl, hiss, growl. I will not go easily. You can put my corpse in the FEMA work camp. Hang my head on a pike, like they did with William Wallace. Once I've left this corporeal vessel I won't have need of it anymore. And where do we go? Where do we go when we leave this realm? The simple answer, and the only accurate one at the present moment, is I don't know. I do not know for certain, as of now. When we cross that bridge into the mists of a new morning, to Valhalla, Nirvana, Heaven, Hades, whatever it may be, whatever you choose to call it, it's intangible. We cross a threshold into The Unknown. I like the word AETHER. Science won't cop to it. They will acknowledge the existence of Dark Matter, but not AETHER. Religion likes to speak in Spiritual terms, but organized religion is just another way to control the masses, a way to corral the cows and sheep, to pacify the slaves so they will work harder for the benefit of the masters. Science and Religion have this in common: They are both belligerent and stubborn in their closed-mindedness. They refuse to admit that there are things they do not comprehend, and that the other has bits of truth contained within its matrix. Science will attempt to convince you that you have no soul, that consciousness and sentience are simply a product of electrochemical reactions within the brain - Bullshit! I call bullshit. Religion, on the other hand, will attempt to convince you that you were created by God to be special, somehow elevated above all other species, with free reign to use and exploit other species, and nature, and even Mother Earth Herself, with impunity, and that you are the only sentient beings - Bullshit! Again I call bullshit. Never underestimate human stupidity.
Humans have a tendency to believe what we choose to believe. This is both a good quality, and a bad quality, depending on the parameters. "Dat which make ya, can also break ya."  When confronted with the harshness of the material realm, what we call "reality", we tend to seek comfort. Some seek it in Religion and Science, trying to define the undefinable, to comprehend the incomprehensible. Me, I seek to open my third eye, to expand and grow in the AETHERAL. I seek knowledge, I seek understanding, I seek Truth. The truth of humanity is within each and every individual, within our DNA, within our Spirit. We just don't remember it yet. Yet!
Individuality is one of our most important assets. We are like snowflakes in that we are all unique, yet all the same as well. Each snowflake is unique, yet they are all snow, they are all made of H2O, in crystalline form. Each human is unique, even twins, yet we are all human, and believe it or not, we all have individual freedom to choose our own destiny. We are not sheep. Do you hear me? We Are Not sheep! We do not need to conform to the norm. That is a misassumption, and a misunderstanding. We need to achieve unity as a species, while paying special attention to the preservation and development of individuality. We need to recognize our alikeness and our uniqueness simultaneously. We must put aside argumentative opinions which lead to bickering and squabbling, while recognizing our individuality as free sentient beings. And we need to stop abusing one another, and other species as well, stop exploiting and start conserving. We must eliminate hierarchy in favor of informed consensus, the true meaning of the word democracy, which is each individual making an informed decision, and the consensus agrees to adopt what the majority decides. No kings or queens. No president. No congress. No politics. No bosses. No Popes and Pharisees. No CEOs. Every decision involving multiple individuals must be voted upon and ultimately agreed upon by all interested individuals. No exceptions. Once we are able to achieve this we will be a force to be reckoned with. Our planet, our resources, and ourselves will not be seized and exploited for the benefit of any outside party. If and when we decide to interact with any other races from other worlds, it will be on our terms, not theirs, and agreements will be made for the benefit of all concerned. No individual, nor group of individuals can be viewed as superior or inferior. Only then will humanity be worthy to enter the 'Verse for exploration and/or trade with other worlds.
And be wary of parasites offering gifts. And don't become them either.
We tread unsteady and unknown waters.
We must trust our hearts.
We Must.

Friday, November 29, 2013

Through The Door Into The Elusive

This is a song I just wrote. The music is still in my head, but the words are here:

Plummeting into the unknown, with a million questions,
Delving into darkness, where will the mind refuse to go?
They've put up walls, blocking me out, blocking me - why?
What is this forbidden truth which Man is not allowed to know?
How can the truth be evil?
How can the light be dark?
I must know...

Seems the greatest atrocities
Have been perpetrated in the name of religion and purity, Innocent blood
Spilled for what reason? What sacrifice to whom?
Who shall avenge?
Does no one care?
Salvation or desolation, bodies broken and bare,
Writhing and screaming.

Cry out to gods for a reason,
There is no justification.
Is this the end of creation?
Search in vain for an answer, and still don't know...
And where is tomorrow?

Take me away
Far from here
Space woman
Be my teacher
Teach me a mystery

Show me how to evolve
Beyond the material
Show me the way
To become ethereal
Open the door for me

Where shall we go?

All I have are questions
Piled upon layers of questions

Once I was new
Then innocence flew out the window
Questions were pure
But answers were obscure
I believe in the Truth
Yet I seek and still I do not find what I seek
Once long ago I knew
But now I can't remember what I knew

Born into physical
Given empty promises
We find ourselves
Imprisoned by walls of invisible
Entrapped by a lie
Instructed in how to be slaves
The unseeing eye
Blinded by that we don't see
Blinded but why?
Is there not some inherent good in this entity?
Who are we?
Why are we prevented from knowing our true nature?
Is Humanity not worthy
Of knowing ourselves?
What is the reason?
What is the purpose
Of existence?
How do we learn?
And what is the cost of knowing?
And if I should know the whole,
Will I come back to tell you all?

Thursday, November 28, 2013

"Hi, I'm Rick, this is my brother Rick, and my brother Duane, and my other brother Duane, and my brother Bill, and my other brother Bill...." (Funny Anecdotal Thanksgiving Story Part 2)

Some Thoughts On Thanksgiving Traditions:

I'll start with a comment that I just left on MSN...:
Well, let's see... When I was a kid, my Mom & Grandma used to spend the day before Thanksgiving preparing everything, then the turkey would be left out to thaw at around midnight, and Grandma would be the first one up, making home made noodles, and biscuits, and of course a pot of coffee. They would work as a team, making the stuffing, stuffing the bird, peeling taters, etc. and everything that had to cook would be slow-cooking on a low heat so they could sit in front of the boob tube and watch the parades with the giant balloons of Bullwinkle and Snoopy. My Dad, Uncle, brothers, and me, (and cousins if they were there) would hang out in the basement and watch cartoons and then football. Usually Pitt & Penn State was the big game, since my oldest brother went to Penn State. There would be beer, my Uncle drank copious amounts of beer, and my Dad drank whiskey, and there was always an opportunity for a kid to sneak some beer. Then around late afternoon the women would call us upstairs to eat, everyone would eat like hogs, then we would move to the living room to lay around like walruses, (walri?) and belch and fart, complain that we ate too much, watch more football, or some movie like 'It's A wonderful Life' and then one by one people would go to the kitchen for seconds. When I was a teenager I would always be out with my buddies, smoking reefer, drinking beer, and playing football in the cold wet mud. Then I would go home in time to eat. After I had my own apartment, I would still go home to Mom's to eat turkey, sometimes with the girlfriend of the moment in tow, and then the evening would be time to get drunk. After Mom sold the house, things were different. One year I got a frozen turkey-loaf thing and a frozen lasagna, and a keg of beer, and had a thanksgiving dinner for all my misfit friends. After I had my own house, which was basically party-central 24/7/365, one of my drunk buddies would cook a bird... (cont.) >>>

That was all they would let me post, I guess they have a character limit. (Them fucks!) so here's the rest of the story:   My buddy Duane, after his wife and him split, he came to live at my house, which was fine by me, because he paid rent, and he always bought beer, and I had a good-sized house with space to rent out to several buddies. Story continues. >  Duane would cook a turkey, he had a natural talent for that. He would stuff it, baste it with beer, make giblet gravy, all that good shit. I would make smashed taters, and sweet taters, and a sweet tater pie. My other buddies who lived in the house would all make something to contribute. My buddy Dave would always bring a half gallon of Black Velvet. I, of course, would have my trusty Jim Beam, and a keg of beer, and everyone would have weed. We didn't bother setting a table, everyone would just plop down wherever and eat. After we ate, we would go out and find a Christmas tree and bring it back and set it up. We all had to find the weirdest, most un-traditional thing we could think of to hang on the tree. We would compile a list of each thing and who hung it, and then ask other people that came over if they could find it all. Sometimes we would play Turkey Bowl in the morning, depending on how much booze and drugs were consumed the night before. This went on for several years, until I got married, so I reckon it qualifies as a tradition. After I got married, I moved out of the house to live with my wife, and left Duane in charge of the house. He continued the Turkey tradition for the five years that I was married. My wife and I would always make it a point to stop over there in the evening and eat some food with the crew, hang something weird on the tree, etc. so the tradition continued, even though I wasn't living there. After I got divorced, I moved back home to party-central, and the tradition continued unabated, but over the years it deteriorated, what with everyone's increased intake of booze and dope, and the ever-changing influx and efflux of people. Also, the addition of children changed the dynamic of it as well. Someone has to have their wits about them enough to keep a hairy eyeball on everyone's kids. People were doing harder drugs by that point too, and who wants their younguns to accidentally stumble upon Uncle so-and-so passed out on the couch with a spike sticking out of his arm? Or to accidentally walk in on an inappropriate blow job? "Oops! Wrong room! ...Hi Debbie."  Uhhhhh... Yeah. ..So anyway...

Duane had a stroke in 2001, and his family stuck him in a nursing home at the tender age of 38. The last Thanksgiving in that house was 2002. I went to jail in July of 2003, and I was incarcerated for that Thanksgiving. I got out in the spring of 2004 and got clean and sober that July, almost a year to the day of getting busted. Four days short of it, in fact. The next five Thanksgivings I spent at the AA club, volunteering in the kitchen, cooking dinner for a bunch of other alcoholics. The next one I spent volunteering at a homeless shelter on the east side of San Francisco bay, doing basically the same thing. Then I returned to the east coast, spent a couple years here at the local club, helping out, and the last few years hanging out with my sober family, eating at a buffet joint, I think last year we cooked a bird here, I think...   There doesn't seem to be any real tradition anymore, maybe because I'm older, whatever. It's a good day to watch football, and I'll probably talk to my daughter on webcam at some point.

When they eventually legalize recreational marijuana nationwide, maybe I will start a new tradition of smoking a Thanksgiving joint. Maybe. It's better for you than booze, or dope, or cigarettes.
Well, that's all I've got, for now. Everybody go eat a turkey.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Funny Anecdotal Thanksgiving Story - Part One:

One time, might have been in '81, maybe '82, I woke up on Thanksgiving and went out to meet some buddies and trip. I went to the designated meeting spot, a shopping mall, and found most of the stores were closed, but the mall was open, probably for the mall-walkers. I went into the gameroom and played some video games, smoked a handful of cigarettes, went outside and smoked a joint, wandered aimlessly for a while, then I went to the pay phone and called people. Nobody wanted to venture out and trip. I called them a bunch of lightweights, and went back inside. I found that despite most of the stores being closed, the bar (Ruby Tuesday's) was open, and since they routinely served underage mall rats, I went in and got me a shot & beer buzz going. I used their pay phone to call my buddy Greg, thinking at least he would come out and trip, but he declined. I was disgusted. I went in the bathroom and ate a bunch of acid, figuring if nobody else wanted to trip, then I'd just trip alone, fuck 'em. I had a couple more beers and left. I went up into the woods and smoked another joint. Then I went for a walk. There was still a lot of undeveloped land back then, and some old dumping grounds with open sulfur pits and things of that nature. I just walked around for hours, digging the outdoors. Then I started to feel cold. I guess the alcohol must've worn off. So I walked the railroad tracks and went home.

When I got home, the house was full of people. I had completely forgotten that it was Thanksgiving. I know that I sat down at the table and ate, (probably played with my food, made Devil's Tower out of smashed taters, you know, the usual weirdness that my family had grown accustomed to...) but I really don't remember the details of it, or if I said anything weirder than usual. I know there was some beer on the back porch staying cold. I know I sat out there and had a few. When I went back inside, my brother was watching It's A Wonderful Life. It was the Turnerized version, and he went to the tv and turned the color off. He said, "There, now it looks right." I sat down and melted into the La-Z-Boy and watched it with him. After it was over, he asked me if I had any reefer, I said yeah, and we went out back and smoked a joint. He had to know I was tripping balls, but he didn't say anything about it. One of his buddies came over and the three of us went out four wheeling in the snow. When we got back, I was starting to come down off the trip, and I had consumed enough alcohol to be sleepy, so I went to bed. That's my trippin' on Thanksgiving story. My poor Ma probably never knew that I had joined the family for Thanksgiving dinner while tripping balls, and that's just as well, I suppose. I gave her enough grey hairs. Now that I have a head and beard full of grey hairs myself, it's a fond memory (sort of) to look back on, with a smirk.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Clammy hands?

When I was 17, that was 1982, and I was incarcerated in a detox/psych ward/inpatient rehab kind of place, a very surreal situation, I met a girl with clammy hands. When she touched my hand the first time and I felt the strange sensation of her clammy hand in mine, the first thought that went thru my mind was "oogy." (Pronounced like loogy, not like boogy.) When I think back on it, I can't remember exactly where oogy came from. I think it was a childhood word I made up to describe something icky or slimy, like a handful of nightcrawlers.

So here I was, in this very weird place, filled with very weird people, with the only common theme being drugs and alcohol, and the only thing I could focus on was this cute brunette with oogy hands, and how I wanted to find out how the rest of her skin felt. (Especially the skin beneath her bra and panties.) Whether or not that ever came to fruition, and where and when, and certain intimate details such as her name, etc. shall remain private and personal, out of respect. I don't know what ever became of her, or if she might have a family of her own, and I don't think she would want to air her laundry online, so I'll keep it vague and incomplete.

I recently tried searching her name on facebook, and found that there are a lot of women with the same name, and maybe I don't really want to find her, maybe I was just fondly reminiscing, and maybe I should just leave the memory be. Besides, if her life turned out well, I don't want to be a blast from the past careening and banging into her world, disrupting the calm. And, if her life did not turn out so well, and she ended up like so many of my friends did over the years, then maybe I'm better off not knowing about it. After all, why taint a precious memory with reality, right? Right. ...Moving right along.

I don't know what this blog post is really about. That makes it more interesting, and more funner.  I've always been attracted to petite brunettes with long straight hair. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's genetic. I don't know. I've had a lot of interesting experiences with all kinds of women, but my mind always goes back to the ideal petite brunette. And if she's neurotic, psychotic, or crazy as batshit, she's all the more appealing to me. Especially if she is in a situation from which I can swoop in and rescue her in some way. That kind of seals the deal for me. I've gotten myself into some sticky situations like this, several times. I'd like to believe that I always learn from my mistakes, (usually the hard way!) and won't repeat them, but yet all that goes right out the window when it comes to a petite brunette in some kind of trouble. There could be bells and whistles, red flags, sirens, flashing signs that read "Warning, trouble, run away!" and I will tend to ignore them all and go right into the "Don't worry, babe, I'm here to rescue you." mode. Again and again and again. Kind of surprising that it hasn't gotten me killed yet. That's all good, it might be a good day to die today, but I'm in no hurry to meet death just yet, if I can help it. No point really in trying to figure out the why, I suppose. The next time a petite brunette in distress pops into my life, I'll be there. Interesting note: even if she dyes her hair another color, somehow my 'Spidey-sense' seems to know and I'm there.

They don't call me Crazy for nuthin!

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Fear & Loathing In The Separation Of Church & State Debate (Debacle?)

What is the Separation Of Church And State? Well, according to Wikipedia:
"The separation of church and state is the distance in the relationship between organized religion and the nation state.
Although the concept of separation has been adopted in a number of countries, there are varying degrees of separation depending on the applicable legal structures and prevalent views toward the proper role of religion in society. While a country's policy may be to have a definite distinction in church and state, there may be an "arm's length distance" relationship in which the two entities interact as independent organizations. A similar but typically stricter principle of laïcité has been applied in France and Turkey, while some socially secularized countries such as Denmark and the United Kingdom have maintained constitutional recognition of an official state religion.[1] The concept parallels various other international social and political ideas, including secularism, disestablishment, religious liberty, and religious pluralism. Whitman (2009) observes that in many European countries, the state has, over the centuries, taken over the social roles of the church, leading to a generally secularized public sphere.[2]
The degree of separation varies from total separation mandated by a constitution, as in India and Singapore; to an official religion with total prohibition of the practice of any other religion, as in the Maldives." ..... Ok... (Personally, I would have said separation mandated by a Constitution, such as here in America, or an official religion with the prohibition of any other religion, such as some Arab nations... But it is what it is.)

Whatever the case, here in the land of "Freedom and Opportunity" we have a Constitution, which is supposed to be the supreme law of the land, although the politicians have been wiping their collective ass with it for many years now. And, in our Constitution it states: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof ...."   This brings us to this story: which basically is a couple of women getting upset because a town decided to open their town hall meetings with a prayer. Two separate political organizations have since gotten involved, and now it is going before the supreme court. (Who apparently have nothing better to occupy their time with..{?}) What the fuck? Another prime example of bureaucracy in action, it seems. Hmmm... I don't know, man, but wouldn't it be simpler to open the town hall meetings with two minutes of silence wherein everyone present may pray to the deities of their choice, or just sit silently if they choose not to pray? I mean, someone please correct me if I'm mistaken, but wouldn't that eliminate the mountain of bullshit which is piling up over this?   Yeah...

Maybe I have a jaded view of things.  I don't have a very high opinion of religion as a whole.  Spirituality, yes.  Religion, no.  Religion is just another means of control, a way for the elitists to force their will upon the ignorant masses.  If you ask me what my religion is, I'll tell you I don't practice one, but I'm not an atheist.  I call myself a Pagan, because I have views which are contrary to most established religions.  I don't believe in dogma.  Certain rituals do serve certain purposes, but living one's daily life by strict, inflexible rules is just OCD, and is about as effective in altering the "reality" around you as farting in a windstorm.  Try this exercise, pray to your god for gold dubloons to fall from the sky into your front yard and see what happens. Go thru all your dogmatic rituals, whatever they may be. What happened? Are you now swimming in gold? Why not? Hmmm...

Now, try this one out: Go out and find someone in need of help, then help them. (Buy the homeless guy a cheeseburger, go to the local animal shelter and pet all the critters, pick a street and walk down it, and every expired parking meter you see, feed it some change so that the person who parked there doesn't get a ticket. Go visit the elderly shut-in folk at a nursing home and spend some time with them. Sweep up all the garbage from the street and put it in a trashcan...) {And Don't tell anyone what you've done!} There. Feel good inside now? You should. If you don't feel good after that, then go on back to your dogma. At least you did something worthwhile.

Fuck rules and restrictions, they serve as much purpose as tits on a boar hog. Give me Anarchy. (Or give me enough weed to make me sleep.)

This has been one man's opinion. Like it or lump it. I have spoken.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

I found this online:

I found this online.  She looks familiar somehow.  I don't know, man.  Things that make ya go "What The Fuck?"  Now where have I seen this woman at before?  Hmmmmmm...  Huh.  Brain-fart.
Brain-freeze, better go eat some ice cream.
I'll report back later if I remember anything pertinent.
Later, gator.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Something different:

I want to rant about something different tonight.  I wanna rant about porn.

Why does porn always have to show somebody's dick?  I don't wanna see that.  If I want to see a dick I can just look down at my own.  I watch porn for the pussy, goddamnit.

And why the fuck do they all have to shave their pubes off, anyway?  What the fuck?  Whatever happened to all the beautiful ladies with big hairy bushes around their cunts?  And why is it so hard to find real women who don't shave anymore?  What's up with that?  I just wanna find a nice crazy woman, (Yeah, they're all crazy!) close to my own age, (within twelve years younger or older,) with a calm personality, with hairy pussy and pits, who likes to pee.  Am I asking too fuckin much here?  I'm drawn to petite brunettes with long straight hair, but I'm open to any woman, (yeah, even the shaved ones, I reckon) as long as she doesn't try to change me...

Well, this started out as a rant about porn, but it segued into a tirade about hairy pussy and ended up with me making an (almost) desperate plea for a new girlfriend.   Fuck.

I think I fuckin think too fuckin much, I think.
Time to go watch more Joe Cartoon.

Bye, yall.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Shut down Congress

Government shutdown?
Yeah, ok.  So what did they actually shut down?  Well, turns out, national monuments. That's right, folks, if you want to see George Washington's Phallus, or the Vietnam Wall, public attractions located in open spaces, you can't.  The spiteful fuckass fascist government has actually wasted more tax dollars to erect barricades around usually open spaces, and pay security personnel to patrol them and keep you & me out of our own public spaces!  Yeah.  Retarded, isn't it?  Politicians in action.

Worse, they've closed national parks, and folks who live in national parks have been evicted from their homes!  Here's an example: That's right, an elderly couple evicted from their home by the goddamn government.  Sons of bitches.  All done out of pure spite, because fuckass congress and fuckass Obama can't agree on how to best go about accomplishing their common goal of fucking the American taxpayer out of every last dime.  Angry yet?  Wait, it gets better.

Fuckass douchebag Harry Reid (who last week said he would deny funding to cancer research) and fuckass Obama want to raise the debt ceiling so they can borrow more funny money from China.  Ready to learn to speak Mandarin yet?  (I've got a few key phrases memorized from Firefly)

The truckers continue to protest all this bullshit by driving in circles around I-495, clogging traffic.  They really should jam up all the roads into DC early Monday morning, and people should clog up all the Metro stations to keep government personnel from getting to work.  Still, that doesn't solve the problem, which is government out of control.

What we need to do is shut them down for real!  It's time to fire all the politicians and run things ourselves.  Politicians, regardless of party affiliation, are all a bunch of lazy leeches sucking sustenance from the American people.  The definition of democracy is one individual = one vote, on everything, and the majority decides.  It never meant "electing" a hoard of stuffed suits and giving them the power to decide by proxy in our stead.  This charade has gone on long enough.  It's high time we stand up and take back what is rightfully ours from the gloved fist of fascism.  Fuck the NWO fascist police state, fuck their ludicrous "laws" created to rob us and keep us restrained like sheep in a pen, and fuck the television-induced laziness and apathy which allowed it to happen in the first place.

What once had the potential to become the greatest nation on the face of Mother Earth has now become the laughing stock.  It makes me ashamed to be American.  It really does.  Most of the western world views us as a joke - a fat, lazy, couch-potato joke.  The Asian countries view us as stupid consumers of mass-produced garbage.  The Arab world views us as the enemy, and we view them as goat-fucking camel jockeys and terrorists bent on world domination.  All this viewing is largely due to mass television  viewing, controlled by mass media, who are instructed what to broadcast by the NWO.... Round and around the big shitball goes, and where it stops, nobody knows.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

How Deep Does The Rabbit Hole Go?

                  One Bear Wants to know....

       Just How Deep Does The Rabbit Hole Go?

"If you are going to tell people the truth, you had better make them laugh, or else they will kill you."
~George Bernard Shaw

Seems the often-quoted Mr Shaw was correct there, or at least, if not murder you outright, at the very least they will belligerently deny what you tell them, ridicule you, throw eggs and mud at you, defame your character, etc.  I cite the overuse of the term "Conspiracy Theory"...
While it's true that theories abound, on all manner of subjects, the fact remains that Conspiracy exists.  In and of itself it is not a "theory" but is a proven fact.  People conspire, for one reason or another.  They might conspire to rob you, or to screw your wife.  They might conspire to discredit you, to betray you, or to otherwise fuck up your life.  They might even conspire to murder someone and frame you for it by planting a knife.  There is an old saying, "Trust no one."

For a long time now, a very long time, most of my life in fact, I have known that something was not right.  Something is off-kilter.  Things are not as they should be, and things are not always as they seem to be.  Stephen King used the term slippage in his novel co-written with Peter Straub, The Talisman, and its sequal, Black House.  Slippage is a good word, a descriptive word.  Like the heat you see rising on a hot summer day, which science will tell you is the convection currents bending and refracting light, whatever.  Picture that same visualization, but everywhere, all the time, as if the matrix was unstable and you could see it waffling.  (I'm talking metaphorically here, for the most part, but sometimes it actually can be seen.)  At any rate, something is wrong.  I knew it from early childhood, the way people act, the way they speak, the way things are...  The yellow signs with "Fallout Shelter" and the radiation symbol on them that were so prevalant during the cold war days, the overall strangeness of things, the mysterious tunnel that seemed to go waaaaaaaay back under the shopping center, way deep into the hillside...  The high-tension power lines that ran directly over the house...  The streetlights in the parking lots that seemed as though they they were watching you,  and the hummmm they made, like they might just get up and walk around whenever nobody was looking...  The weird "airplanes" with the big round front, like the Starship Enterprise...  The weird way the neighbors walked, and talked, and behaved, some like they were walking around in a daze, operating on auto-pilot, others like they were looking right thru you, reading your mind...

Keep in mind now that these were observations I made as a small child, long before I ever did any drugs, long before I saw the film  "They Live",  before Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, before my cousin joined the Marine Corps and went to Vietnam, back when all that I should have been concerned with was playing with toys and learning how to wipe my own butt and tie my own shoes.  Even that long ago I knew somehow that something wasn't right.  Now that I'm in my forties I can look back on the chronological progression of events and see paterns emerge throughout the fabric of things.  The older I get, the more earnestly I want to know just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

On the morning of 9/11/01, I was sound asleep, when my GF woke me up smacking me on the shoulder.  I said, "The weed's on your side of the bed!" She said, "Get up and look at the tv, the World Trade Center's on fire!"  I opened my eyes and saw the first tower burning.  I saw what appeared to be a plane, and I thought it was one of those planes they use to dump water on forest fires, until I saw boom, and the second tower bursting into flames.  I immediately sat bolt upright and said "Holy Fuck!"  As I watched the events of that day unfolding, my thoughts went back to Oklahoma City, Columbine, Waco, and Ruby Ridge.  Somehow my mind instantly made the connection.  I knew it without knowing how or why I knew it.  I also knew right away that the story they were telling was fishy and full of holes.  You could tell by the way the towers came down that it looked exactly like every controlled demolition video...   Bill Cooper published Pale Horse in, what, '99?  I didn't read it until '04.  When I read that book, it confirmed certain suspicions that I had had for a long time.  It also gave me new directions in which to aim my perceptive gaze.  Cooper said "Don't take my word for it, do your own research!" And so I did.  I started investigating, while keeping an open mind to the best of my ability.  I started seeing the patterns emerge.  This shit goes way back.  I mean way back.  The further back I look, the more patterns I see, woven like a web of deception.  9/11 was a false flag operation to give "W" an excuse for invading the middle east and starting an oil war, but mainly to set up an excuse for instituting the "Patriot Act", arguably the most un-patriotic and unconstitutional piece of garbage-legislation ever.  Now we have the "Sandy Hook Shooting", another obvious false flag op, this time to set up an excuse to legislate gun control.  Now I don't know if there even was an actual shooting, due to the bizarre, completely muddled huggermugger of misinformation surrounding this story.  There are too many distortions, too many contradictions, and the whole mess just screams Bullshit! (with bells and whistles, diesel horns, sirens, and flashing red lights)  Put that story together with the supposed "meteor" that was observed by hundreds of eyewitnesses up and down the eastern seaboard and at least as far west as Ohio, maybe farther.  Now add the "meteor" that the Russians shot sown last month.  Now throw in our friendly neighborhood Korean despot Mr Kim Jong Un, and Dennis Rodman.... WHAT?! Wait, Dennis fucking Rodman personally invited to have a sit down with Mr Kim?  Does any of this bullshit seem, maybe, oh, orchestrated?  Hmmmm... [Things that make you go hmm...]

Well, I'm beginning to lose my train of thought, so I'll just post a few links here:
Oligarchy... Does this give you something to think about?  Ok, howbout this:
Atlantean Conspiracy (Not that I necessarilly agree... but it makes you think.)
And, since I don't subscribe to religious dogma, and have seen the contradictions throughout the bible, I don't necessarilly agree with religious viewpoints, but this next one is talking about The Black Nobility ........ Sometimes you have to just read everything (while maintaining an open mind) and then sort out the truth from the bullshit. Even misinformation has a few gains of truth, the trick is picking them out from the mess. .........  And finally, a blog that I just discovered today, ("discovered", kind of like Columbus "discovered" North America", as in how can one "discover" something that is already there?) Event Horizon (Which, incidentally, was the name of a pretty good space movie starring that guy from Jurassic Park...)

Ok, that's all I'm gonna rant about right now.. "Uh-dee-uh, uh-dee-uh, uh-dee-uh, uh, that's all folks."

Monday, March 25, 2013

What do you know?

What do you know, we're being bombarded with meteors, it must be March.
Well, maybe it's meteors, one cannot be certain.  Could be space junk, since there's copious amounts of it orbiting our Earth, and at any given moment on any given day a sizable chunck of it could just decide "Fuck it! Today's the day my orbit's gonna decay." and come hurtling groundwards at a thousand miles a second, maybe (Hopefully) burning up on reentry, or possibly crashing into some unsuspecting person's home and going Kaboop. (Hence the picture of Frank.)
"Wake up Donnie, get the fuck out of the house..."

Maybe it's our friendly neighborhood despot Mr Kim Jong Un, letting us know that he has the capability to hurl missiles of some kind in our general direction, so we had better listen to Dennis Rodman, or else.  Maybe not.

Maybe it's the lightships...I doubt that's what it was, but you never know.  Maybe it was a flying sorcerer?  Merlin, perhaps?  Again, doubtful, but you never fuckin know.

Point is, I don't know what the fuck it was!  Therefore, far as I'm concerned, it remains unidentified.  The U in UFO stands for unidentified, therefore, if you don't know what the fuck it is, it's a UFO. Period.  UFO does not necessarily mean spaceship, or flying saucer, it means "What the fuck is that?"

I don't believe official "explanations" of phenomena, because the "officials" are notorious for lying. I personally don't believe anything the government says, because it's all propaganda, and the media print what they are told to print, and they are all owned by the TC/CFR.  If you want to know the truth, you gotta investigate and find it yourself.

To get the accurate weather: Hang a piece of bull rope outside your window.  If the rope is wet, it's raining.  If the rope is frozen it's cold.  If the rope is sideways it's windy, etc.  I know it's raining outside because I was out in it, and it's good that it's not raining inside. 

Later - bye.

Monday, March 18, 2013

It's March. Budda-buddump, chsssh.

It's March.  It's raining outside, and hovering around forty degrees.  It's sixty-one degrees in my bear cave, which is comfortable to me.  The cat is sound asleep on the bed.  It would be nice if my truck would start, but she won't, because the wiring harness has a hard-to-track-down open circuit somewhere, and she's parked in the mud, which just makes it that much more fun.  The guy who was supposed to come and look at the wiring a couple days ago is MIA, possibly drunk somewhere, or wrapped up with some female, or hopefully not in a bad situation...

The furnace quit functioning today, or the pilot went out anyway, and there was about a quarter inch of dust in the filters, which can't be good at any rate, and copious dust bunnies on the floor around the outer casing.  That was today's excitement, and now that it's taken care of, I can sit back, smoke cigarettes, and drink Canada Dry till I get sleepy.  I really don't feel like ranting about the sorry-ass state of socio-political bullshit right now.  I'm just not in the mood for it.

...Maybe I'll write a fan-letter to Sarah Silverman.  She's cute and funny, and she could come and pee in my bed anytime.  She probably wouldn't, since I'm not famous, but she would be welcome none the less.  ...Or maybe I'll write a fan-letter to Jewel Staite, just to tell her she's pretty, you know.  Or maybe I'll write one to Kate Micucci...   Or maybe not.  The only famous female who ever answered my fanmail was The Great Kat, and she might rape me in a violent manner, which probably would be unpleasant, although one can not know for certain what may happen unless & until it actually happens.... (Or doesn't.)

Thursday, February 7, 2013

No "news" is good news...

I don't watch very much television anymore.  There's nothing on there I give much of a fuck about.  There's nothing really worth watching except Sons Of Anarchy, and sometimes Big Bang Theory.
And even those have commercials.  I loathe commercials.

“Bandis Olay for the Santro Pay Tan….  ..'70s suntan lotion radio commercial. (Bain De Soleil - ‘for the San Tropez tan..)  Yeah, French.  The language of...  French people.
"Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose..." --Jean Baptiste Alphonse Karr 

Anyways...  I don't watch much tv.  The "news" is a farce,
and Faux News is, well faux.
I have no respect for Rupert Murdoch - He cancelled Firefly.  O'Reilly, Hannity, and the rest of them can all go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. {I borrowed that fucking doughnut phrase from Stephen King.  I like it.}  I'd watch Jesse Ventura, if he reported the news, because I trust him.  But all the major "news" networks are owned by members of the Trilateral Commission, so you can't trust anything they say, it's all got some type of spin on it.  Propaganda from the machine.

So, I don't watch the bullshit on the idiot box, we've established that.  I used to read the paper, but print media is also biased in one way or another.  Besides, why kill trees to accumulate piles of paper when you can get the same crap online, and for free?  Washington Post online, New York Times online, Pittsburgh Tribune-Review online, etc.  So I stay aware of the current propaganda and whatever else they choose to print in that way.  Last night I read this story about a young girl who had strokes from smoking fake weed.  She survived, but she has brain damage, she's blind, and she might or might not ever get her eyesight back, or ever walk again.  All from smoking fake weed!  ...And, from what I've read, the shit they call "bath salts" is even worse.  The sad and truly fucked up thing about it is, if real weed was legal, there would be no market for this fake shit. (Consider that, Obummer!)  Ron Paul would have legalized it by now, but, since Ron Paul is not a member of the "in crowd" the rest of the bureaucrats don't take him seriously, so he won't be nominated by either of the two ruling parties.  Even if he were to win the popular vote by a landslide, I'd bet that the system and those who run it would find some way to seat their pre-chosen man anyway.  After all, that's their modus operandi.  Now, before I get too far off track...

Here's a story about the crazy Iranian Despot:  You know him, he's the nut job in the middle east playing with nukes. (Forget for a moment that Israel already has them.  They wouldn't lob them at us anyway, well, unless they were really pissed.)
Sometimes I write ideas on a word processing program, so I can save them, and maybe post them on here. [Who cares, besides me, since nobody seems to be reading my blog anyway.]

I wrote this this morning:
What’s that guy’s name in Iran? Abu Biddybab? Abu Titty Grab? Something like that. I know there used to be one named Abu Nidal. Every time I heard his name, it sounded like they were saying ‘a boony doll’ and I pictured a stuffed baboon wearing a Raggety Ann dress - a boony doll.

Course, there was the one guy, (doesn’t everybody know at least one guy?) who referred to black folks as “boons”… He also called Asian folks chinks & japs, cops were fuzz, and him & his dad were ‘badass pollocks’…

I wonder what he called me behind my back? Doesn’t really matter, I just wonder. Kids in the ‘70s called other kids all kinda names. That dude I was thinking of there, his nickname was “Goon” because he was kinda tall for a twelve year old kid, and he walked like Alice the goon from Popeye. He always wore his hair in a buzz cut, but I think his dad made him. He had to go every Saturday and get a haircut. (I had already started letting my hair grow long by that point, and I remember thinking how silly it was for him to cut his, and how unnecessary to do it every week.) We used to hang around in front of the liquor store harassing people until one of them would take our money and get us a bottle of something. One Saturday, we had a bottle of Windsor (bluggh!) and we were walking around town with it in a paper bag, passing it around, and suddenly (as we walked past the barber shop) he remembered that he had to get a haircut. We called him a pussy, but we all went in with him anyway, just to look at the porn mags. The barber said something like “Whaddaya got there in the bag, a bottle of wine?” And whichever one had it at the moment lifted it out and said “Yeah… Windsor wine!” and we all laughed. Then we all went to the store and stole stuff.

Yeah, those days, spent in a daze, in the haze of the Southside slums, smoking big fat two-paper joints of gold reefer, throwing rocks at passing trains, picking boogers and wiping them on parked cars, chugging down whatever booze we could get our grubby little paws on, stealing stuff just because we could, fighting for no reason except to fight, or over some stupid shit or other, and school was just a cruel joke, a jail they made you go and sit in all day to keep you out of the house while your parents were at work and the teachers tried to shove useless information down your throat. What did we need algebra for? Why should we care about the Magna Carta? Who gives a flying fuck about Aaron Burr? That don’t buy the next bag of dope, or a model to build, or the glue to sniff, or the beer to chase it with… Everybody knew the best parked cars with change in the ashtrays and other stuff worth stealing were in the parking garages downtown in the daytime! How dare they imprison us inside school during the best looting hours? …That’s really about the way I thought about it then.
You see how easy it is for my atomic train of thought to get off track and ramble down a meandering siding...

“Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is in New York City and will make his final address…” --Global Post. Yeah, just like I said, Abu Biddybab. “The Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) is doing their part to ass-kiss the Iranian pigs by confirming that Iran’s foreign minister, Ali Akbar Salehi, is slated to appear… at the group’s office in Manhattan"  Well of course they kiss his ass!  He's a very important pawn in their game.  They might use him to start the next war, since they need to have perpetual war, which cannot be "won", in order for the military industrial complex to continue to profit while economies colapse and young men and women die. It's two fold, you see?  They employ a cleverly wrought depopulation tactic, while simultaneously funneling money from your pocket (taxes) into their coffers.  Sneaky bastards, ain't they?  And they do it all right in front of everyone's noses, while they distract you with the super bowl and the acadamy awards.

Well, I have to wrap up this post now, and do some "real" work. (Meaning that it actually puts money in my pocket.)  ....Just as soon as I finish this cigarette...
Crazy Bear (AKA Spirit Bear) 2/7/13, @ 13:09 Eastern Standard Time.

Friday, January 4, 2013

Life's A Bitch, Then You Die...

 "plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose"

---Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr

    I went back to my hometown for Christmas. See family & friends, law-de-daw...
I saw lots of folks, not everyone I went to see, but lots of folks I hadn't seen in years. I also saw lots of changes. Lots of deterioration & the apathy surrounding it. They call it "progress"...
I call it deplorable. The land has gone to shit. More on that in a minute.

    There's two faces of Pittsburgh: The face they display to the world - Heinz Field, etc. And the face they keep hidden - McKees Rocks, Northside, Clairton, etc. I figure it's like this everywhere in the country nowadays. There's the gilded-plastic, sugar-coated turd they present to the world, and then there's the actual town that's falling down, because nobody cares. Rather than maintain & refurbish/restore the historic structures, roads, railroads, and such, they just leave them go to shit, while systematically destroying open spaces to build new garbage they can market to yuppies.

    I can still remember West View Park. We used to go there every summer when I was a kid. It closed in '77. It's an ass-ugly, waste-of-space shopping center now. That's a goddamn shame. What kind of scum destroys a beautiful old amusement park and replaces it with a worthless cluster of stores? The same kind of scum that destroy forests & farms to build suburban sprawl, that's what kind. Places where I used to ride dirtbikes at as a teenager are gone, replaced by strip-malls and plans of McMansions with manicured lawns. Roads I used to race on have been re-routed, or oblitterated completely by toll road 43. Railroads and inter-urban streetcar lines have become bicycle trails for yuppies. It's all about money, what puts money into the pockets and bank accounts of unscrupulous assholes with delusions of grandeur, the grandiosity of wannabe millionaires. And the general apathy of sheeple who are force-fed the quarter-pounders of tv "reality" contributes to the snowball effect of it. Sheeple are sheeple because they are conditioned from early childhood to be sheeple. The snowball is gaining momentum, growing exponentially as it makes its way down the mountain, ever gaining speed & size, towards the inevitable big splat.  None of them seem to realize that money is just worthless paper, and that material things, cars, houses, and even gold are temporal.

    I don't know what to do about it. See, it's like this:  One day in 1980, I got drunk for 24 years. I stopped giving a fuck about anyone or anything except my own selfish desire to stay fucked up. I didn't just want to get high, I wanted to stay high forever, the search for the elusive, unattainable eternal buzz, which would allow me to forget responsibility and drift off peacefully into oblivion. I had my reasons for wanting this, I won't go into it here & now. Maybe another post, another time.

    Suffice it to say, when I sobered up eight years ago, I started to become aware of my surroundings. It seems that as I progress thru time, I become more and more aware of things, and I don't like a lot of these things. I am now aware of what was going on during the 24 years that I was too fucked up to care. And now I care. And it often seems like it's too late to fix it.

    I started using google Earth to look for things that I remember from childhood, and sadly, a lot of these things ain't there anymore. Almost all the drive-ins are gone, some replaced with subdevisions and shopping centers, car dealers, what have you, and some just big ugly scars on the landscape. The same holds true for amusement parks, farms, woods... And I want to know why. It makes me sad in my heart and sick to my stomach to see the wanton waste that passes for "progress". And I want to do something about it. ...But what?

    There's entirely too many humans. Mother Earth cannot sustain continued population growth. The douchebags in charge know this, yet they do nothing to change it. Why? In a word, self. Selfishness. They only care about what they can take from any given situation, and not what they can contribute. "I got mine, fuck you." They do not comprehend the temporal nature of matter. Material things are fragile, they become dust in the wind if not carefully preserved and taken care of. What legacy are we leaving for our grandchildren's grandchildren's grandchildren?

Sometimes I have post-apocalyptic dreams.

    Humans were put here by our Creator(s?) for a purpose. What purpose? To be caretakers of Mother Earth and to look after the well-being of other species? Or to wantonly destroy all we survey, ultimately destroying the environment, making Mother uninhabitable? Or was it something else? Were we created as a slave-race, to "terraform" this planet into one that is inhabitable by some other race of beings who breathe air that is toxic to us? Or to use up all the resources until nothing is left, like a parasitic virus?
 I don't know.

    Religions wrongly teach that "God" gave mankind "dominion" over all (other) animals, to subjugate them and exploit them. Selfish humans take this ball and run with it. We (as a race) exploit rather than conserve. The human race truly does behave like a parasitic virus. This needs to change, lest we destroy our Mother and all perish with her. The root of the problem is self. The root of all our troubles is self. All of the "seven deadly sins" can be traced back to self. This does not mean that I advocate unity over individuality, quite the opposite. Individuality & unity go hand in hand. Unity is the logical extension of individuality. Let me explain: Individuals must set aside selfish ends for the greater good of all, while maintaining their individuality. Conformity masquerading as unity breeds slavery - nobody benefits from it but the slave-master. True unity is a collection of individuals sacrificing selfishness for self-preservation. Eqality is the recognition of and respect for individuality. Individual freedom must be preserved, with selfless respect for the individual freedom of everyone else. Carl Marx had an idea, unfortunately the communists took that ball and ran with it. The downfall of individual freedom is oligarchy. Oligarchy leads to mass-slavery. We as a race must do away with selfishness. We must smash the "What's in it for me?" thinking, in favor of "What's in it for all"... What's in it for you? You get to live. You get to survive, rather than perish. You get to share the work with your brother, and share the fruit of that work, instead of fighting and killing each other over it. You get to divide the work and the fruit of the work evenly, (rather than working for a pittance that's doled out to you by the slave-master who does no work, while he gets fat off your efforts.) And you get to share your thoughts, feelings, and opinions. You get an equal say-so in the decision making, instead of letting the slave-masters do the diciding for you. {Google True Democracy and check out what comes up. Direct Democracy is another good read.} No matter what, we, the human race have to do something, and fast. We must get up off our couch-potato sheeple asses and take action in order to affect positive changes. Our  children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children will thank us.