Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
♫“Joan Rivers... whiter than the Nile, I'll be passing you in style
some day. You've come to a dark twisted end, my turkey vulture friend.
Joan Rivers and mehhhhhhhhhhh.”♫
Whether it was selling cheap paste jewelry on QVC channel or chanting
“Success at any cost! Success at any cost!” She was inflexibly true to
her compulsions. She sold a lost of paste and she did get success
regardless of the cost. “Can we talk?” Uh... no we can't Joan. See...
there is that incredibly ironic thing about the vocal chords. What did
Mr. Apocalypse say? “I'm going to be really ingenious, visible and you
know just how ingenious that can be. Well... no you don't but never
mind.
Next up... Henry Kissinger and David Rockefeller, joined at the hip ever
since David became Henry's patron or was that poltroon? I forget.
Let's not forget George (I killed Kennedy) Bush and Little Georgie
Sorrows. Ah... the evil that men do. I'll tell you what, it doesn't
smell like Mennen Skin Bracer. Shimon Peres is on the list too. There is
quite a laundry list of old men ...and women, like Madeleine Albright
and Barbara Bush who are also on that list. Mr Apocalypse has got a
little list and there's none of them be missed. Yes,
preciousssssssssssssssssssss.
Oh... let's not overlook Charles Krauthammer and all the other Zio-cons.
He's not so old just yet but when it comes to evil, he's ancient. These
and a large number of others all came here at this time for a single
purpose and that was to cause as much harm as they possibly could. This
they have done. Now the ball is in the court of Mr. Apocalypse.
I drink the Ibogaine cocktail and sit very still with the inner eye
turned inward. After a time I find myself perched on a shelf of lava
rock, looking down into the pit which, from my perspective is kind of
like sitting on one of the upper floors of the Murtaugh Building after
the front of it got blown off. I see a huge dirigible like construction
floating on the hot foul air of the pit. I bring my binoculars to my
eyes and I see Ashtaroth walking along the River Styx with a nylon cord
in his hand. He's flying that dirigible like a kite. I turn the lenses
of the binoculars to the dirigible and I see it is the skin of Ariel
Sharon, pumped full of helium. His mouth is open in an Edvard Munch,
Silent Scream sort of a way. I can see his eyes are open and pregnant
with emotions I would rather not describe at this juncture. Hey! Adults
come here to read these posts. I don't want to see them weeping in the
arms of their children once they read something like that.
'I'm in a fog' of arrogant mendacity Rasmussen's soul is walking around
down below. The rest of him may be back on Planet Earth but his soul is
here in the valley of the shadow of the living dead. I'm guessing
physicists have also proven that everything is consciousness at one
stage of awareness or another. That means when you die and your animate
self disappears from here, it emerges elsewhere in a state of awareness
consonant with what has been conferred upon it in respect of the sum
total of the footsteps added in with everything they ever thought, said
and did. Remember, 'thoughts are things'. What? You never heard of a
thoughtform? That is the template, the blueprint for a manifest object
after it has moved through the Formative Plane and become materialized.
Deep inside the prison of my karmically bound self, my solar body pounds
upon the walls of karmic restriction. Lemmie outta here! All around me I
see many clocks on the walls of my cell. Beneath each of them is a
small rectangular plaque that announces the date and hour when a
particular trait or conditions is scheduled to leave my life. I live in a
world of over anticipated timers, with the same kind of ever
heightening anxiety that a turkey in the oven might feel but... a turkey
doesn't really feel anything in that situation do they and I am
digressing all over the map at the moment. Thank god someone bastes me
on occasion. What did that saint say when the Romans were grilling him
over a fire? “Turn me over please, I think I'm done on this side.”
Hopefully we don't get to that.
The last six thousands years have been a litany of horror. Hundreds of
millions of people have died for the dark and dreadful dreams of bankers
and money changers. The wheel of cosmic time has turned. The Aquarian
Age is on site. Surely we are at the far end of the cusp period at this
moment. That means the force of sustenance has been withdrawn from all
those institutions, traditions and infrastructure that are not intended
to make the transition into this new age. At the same time, those
emergent ideas and conditions that Aquarius reflects are growing by the
day. Much of these remain unseen at the moment. They are forming up
under the radar of day to day appearances. A time will come when these
technologies and trends of thought will become ubiquitous. The dark side
has been operational at full tilt to desecrate human thought and the
environment to every possible extreme. Have world conditions passed
beyond the point of repair and redemption? We shall see. I close my eyes
and see that hundreds of miles of plastic and other trash, floating in
the Pacific.
Fe Fi Fo Fum... I smell the cold sweat and fear of Kissinger,
Rockefeller and then some. Step back my friends and look at the
spectacle of appearances as they present themselves on this day. Watch
Obama babbling on with lie after lie. From behind him one can see the
arm up his ass all the way to the shoulder. The hand is making his lips
move. There is no shame anywhere; in Congress, in the Judiciary, in the
Administrative wing. Across the waters, Christine Lagarde, Catherine
Ashton, David Cameron, Ed Miliband, Satanists all, are pressing their
agendas, while exposures of their crimes continue alongside their doomed
efforts. These are all friends of Jimmy Saville. Just imagine the level
of corruption in The House of Lords. You know what you know but what is
it that you do not know, shudder... a great deal. Tony Blair gets the
GQ Philanthropists Award. What has GQ got to do with philanthropy?
Aren't they in the business of inseams and false fronts, not to mention
rolled socks in the underwear?
Here's what Google has to say about synonyms for corruption.
If you take that term and transfer it into the building trade, it might
mean your house is riddled with termites. You can stand outside the
house and look at it and at first glance you see none of the devastation
that has taken place at the woods interior. Maybe on closer inspection
you might see mounds of particles on the ground that indicate something
has been ground to powder. This is a perfect metaphor for the state of
the times. The house looks fine but... it's not. It can crumble at any
moment and this has happened any number of time; a seemingly sound
house, seen from the street, falls apart. It's all about inner rot and
that is the case with the interior being of all of the names mentioned
here today. They represent systems that are totally corrupt and it
stands to reason that, as representatives of this system, they are also
thoroughly corrupt. They seem okay on the outside, if you don't look to
closely at what they've been up to but... only the purpose of
demonstration is holding them together at this point.
And the media? The Zio-Satanic media populated now by nothing but
whores... “You walk into the room with your pen in your hand. You see
somebody naked and you say, 'who is that man?' You try so hard but you
just don't understand, what it is you'll say when you get home and...
you know something's happening but you don't know what it is; do you,
Mr. Jones?” Obviously everything is held in place by a mysterious force
because... otherwise, people in all walks of life, who have seen first
hand what awful and unjust things are taking place, would be shouting
from the rooftops about it but... they are constrained. They are
restrained. The reporters go on being reporters except they no longer
observe and report. They simply repeat what they are told to say.
Chomsky goes on pontificating, occasionally looking down at his clay
feet cooking in the kiln. Rachel Madow keeps talking out of the side of
her mouth. Abby Martin goes on felating the people she really works for
and no one seems to remember what she said about Russia. The twin
Zio-crones from Kalifornia squeal about fabricated nonsense and no one
seems to mind. Look to the left and right, look ahead and behind. Look
down and look up. Do you see a politician anywhere whose conscience just
took a lightning bolt and are now singing like a canary? Look into the
media, entertainment... where is that necessary cabal of the righteous?
We get Cruz and Bardem and not much else. We got Miley Cyrus twerking
with her brow all scrunched up as she contemplates The Riddle of the
Sphincter.
Truly... it is all under control and it looks to me like people can't
step out of character. They're locked in for the purpose of
demonstration. It defies any logical computation of 'the odds'. The odds
say that a reasonable portion of people from all walks of life, at this
point... at this point, should be coming forth and declaring. Their
humanity demands it but... nada. It's silent all round. It's quiet...
too quiet (grin).
To paraphrase an ancient text; “Let those who are however they are go on
being however they are and let those who are otherwise be otherwise.
Those without justice, let them go on being unjust and those who are
filthy, let them continue.” It's clear that some all containing force
has got the whole thing choreographed and scripted for reason known only
to that force about which we know less than nothing to begin with. You
can get an idea of something that, in it's totality is incomprehensible
and indefinable by watching how it operates. You can get a clue as to
what is appreciated and not appreciated by how the observations of
everything impact upon you because you house that mysterious force from a
personalized perspective and it so happens that most of us share a
common view on what is right and what is wrong. That we may not always
adhere to it in practice is the result of fear and bad influences but...
that takes nothing away from what we instinctively know at the heart of
our being. All of us house this force or we wouldn't even be animate.
You're listening to the world outside you or you are listening in an
interior manner. You're guided by one thing or you are driven by
another. That is just how it is.
In the end, reason triumphs over passion but... the greatest impact of
enduring reason always manifests itself through a vehicle of great
passion. It appears we are all locked in at the moment. I suspect a
time, fast in approach where the restraints are suddenly lifted at the
same time that we are made capable of seeing what really is. The
determining feature of this event is whether you continue to see from
that point or whether you consciously close your eyes. We'll see... or
not.
End Transmission.......
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