Boxes

Someone asked, “If they can dive into the depths of thrashing North Atlantic and recover a flight data recorder, why have they failed to produce the ones from 9/11?”

Since the “neon-orange-red” flight data recorder is located in the tail section, built to withstand great impact and temperature, it should be recoverable.  In the case of the Pentagon, we need not look for one, but the Pennsylvania crash site should have one for us.  I believe Christopher Bollyn's journalism gleaned from the surrounding woods.  A man who lived there said that it was raining body parts.

Steel beams in the twin towers were rendered into lava by a chemical reaction.  You can see it oozing from the wounded building as people leapt to their deaths to escape the heat.  Thermite and thermate have been written as the compounds used to cut the steel girders by way of intense heat.  A blacksmith shapes white-hot metals similarly, but the heat used here was magnified many times beyond that.  

In the case of the World Trade Towers (1,2 and 7), thermate was used to melt the frames in a precise demolition.  Only Towers One and Two were hit by aircraft which had nothing to do with thermate.  

Since the clean-up crew was able to collect enough scrap metal to build a morale-boosting Navy ship (we are told), they may have been able to locate one or both of the flight data recorders.  This I say because thermate compounds were inside the girders, still chewing on steel on the way down.  Maybe the boxes survived, having been stout and heavy.  

Thermate was applied strategically for demolition purposes, the ignition of which was done in concert.  We all know what happened.  Only a knuckle-dragging, medicated churl would believe the 9/11 Commission Report.  That holds as much water as the schmutz they wrote about John Kennedy.

There is a field in Pennsylvania where they could not bury anything.  This flight data recorder has to exist.  Possibly there are people who saw what happened that were not foolhardy enough to report it.  Were “bombs bursting in air” with a "rocket’s red glare?”  

Did it give proof that our flag was involved?  What pale flag was that?  What colour is treason?  

What might we hear on that flight recorder?  What about the guys at the FAA?  The control towers?  Did somebody hear the pilots' desperate transmissions and do nothing?  Say nothing?  Report nothing?  And they hung Mary Surratt?  

What were those words?  Can you guess?  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.  All systems are on override.  I have no instrument control...”

There are words in a command language that can tell your computer “not to let you do something.”  As a programmer you can write code to disable all kinds of “functionality” for a user.  In the case of today’s commercial airliners, the user is a jet pilot.  He is flying a computer with wings and a tail.

Based on a recent experience, geeks can disable and override just about anything they want on a computer.  That is why the government’s computer security programs are frantic and front-burner.  

The time has come to pressure our government to cough up the flight data recorder for Pennsylvania 9/11.  You know they have it.  And you know that the only reason they have not released what’s on it to the public is because you will hear the truth.  There are few men staring death in the face who speak anything else.

Driveway Checkers

On the morning of 1 July 2010, I happened to be standing by my car, armed with a camera. Sure enough, right on time, here comes the daily driveway checker. A helicopter.

They have to check the driveway because my car is old enough not to have any tracking systems (GPS, OnStar, built-in-the-dash cell phone, etc.). If my car is in the driveway, there is a good chance that I am in the house. They know that I suffer an aversion to bugged vehicles (shark-finned, satellite-monitored, cell tower-triangulated, microphones in the rear-view mirror or BMW's "super-tech" on the steering column -- 007 big time, chalk up another one for German engineering, you get the idea..., etc.).

I think that Sprint Network has informed them how I seldom turn on my ancient cell phone. Today's cell phones are hand-held computers. They inform on you constantly. Like a pocket-spy. All of your text and voice messages are recorded by the network. The GPS provision tracks your every move. The days have arrived where sneaking around behind your wife's back is not something you want to arrange on your cell phone. For virtuous people, this is a boon. The rest of you playaaz can wing it. But if you ever run for public office, you'll be their ideal candidate.

The local police rookies that they have previously assigned to stake-out posts at the entrance/exit to my neighborhood, suffer from telephoto burns. I have close-ups of those guys that my photography professor would be proud of. So that arrangement didn't "fly" very long.

Based on the questions from their investigator, they are concerned about other people with whom I may consort. What concerns them are communications that are not digital, traceable, trackable, recordable or bug-able. Other cars in the driveway would therefore be of interest to them.

They never know where I will go, when or why. My travels and activities concern them. So they have me followed if I go somewhere. And nervously check my driveway every few hours if I don't.

The stage was set for this while my spouse was in Iraq. A federal investigator tried twice to enter my house for a chat. He left his calling card wedged in the door. I called back and opted to answer his questions over the phone. If I don't let Mormon missionaries into the house, why would I let him? Good rule of thumb. So he asked me what mode of communication my spouse and I employed and how often we used it per a given span of time. He asked if I belonged to any social clubs or a church. He wanted to know what my hobbies were.

I mentioned in past entries how if I felt annoyed enough I would start publishing my photographs of these jokers. Here's a Cessna registered to the Department of Justice. Click on the photo. Check the N-Number on: http://registry.faa.gov/aircraftinquiry/NNum_Inquiry.aspx You remember them? They honcho'ed the gassing and burning of all those babies at Waco. Great bunch of folks. Janet Reno lives down here somewhere now in retirement. I should look her up and ask for an interview. I would love to hear her justification for the "justice" served that day. Can't have a loose cannon preaching the Gospel now can we.

On this day, however, (1 July 2010) I noticed how the chopper pilot apparently saw my long lens and fled. Because he burst into speed, arcing counter-clockwise. I panned and the camera nailed him. You gotta love a Nikon. Mr. whirly-bird earned himself top spot. (see first photo above)

But he's in good company. Here you go. Have a look at some of his peerage. This is a chopper registered to the Department of Homeland Security (the American Cheka). They have a little hornet's nest near Homestead Air Force Base and fly up to check on me often. You can see the N-Number without even clicking on the photo. And the little DHS spy in the window?

The government, it appears, has even stricken deals with my neighbors to keep them informed of my travels, routines and activities. Most people have their price. Especially these days. You should see my photo collection of locals and neighbors who follow me around in their cars. Even a mail man. Too bad they didn't learn to drive on mountain roads. They are no match for my pursuit when I decide to chase them with my camera. I have photos of all their license plates. And many of their faces. In a word: busted. I'll publish those later if I get annoyed enough. Stand by...

Surveillance gnats on parade. Here is Monroe County's Jailer on the wing. They have a big prison out on Key West where they stash people. I looked at the rap sheets and was astounded to learn over what trivial charges some of them are rotting in jail. Minor infractions, some of them. Here they are in a windowless dungeon, surrounded by "lifestyles of the rich and famous." Yup. I even get driveway checkers from Key West Sheriff's Office. Note the N-Number near the tail. Click on photo for enlargement.

One day they even sent this thing over. What the heck is it? Only PAXNAVAIR knows for sure. And they ain't talkin'. It has a shark look about it. Referring back to what I said about marine predator design.

Note the snazzy paint on this little prop-job. One day I drove all the way to the Gulf Coast, got out in a hotel parking lot and looked up to a familiar noise. Dam if it wasn't the same plane or his identical twin. I didn't get the N-Number so I can't prove it. But the paint-scheme is flashy and easy to remember. Most of these boring little planes are just white.

I thought I'd do some fact-checking. So I called the chopper dispatch office to where Mr. Top Spot's registration number led me. Her name is Ann-Marie and their office is way up in West Palm Beach. The South Florida Water Management District has every reason to need aircraft. A given. But what was this guy doing flying around my house?

His timing was noteworthy. There was a sinister-looking little aerosol jet going at it hot and heavy over our house at the time. I have taken pictures of him before, spraying his long stream of discharge.

He had the tell-tale white coat. That is so they can hide in the sky. A similar effect is demonstrated on the ventral side of hawks and ospreys. Note the same colour scheme on sharks and other marine predators.

White works equally well at night to blend an owl into the sky, for example, from the perspective of prey on the ground. The same principle applies to a white jet, muted, flying the night spray shift. In previous posts, it is why I called them Boeing night owls.

You will note a tactical kinship between apex predators and war planes. Such aircraft are an expression of Abaddon's perversion. Birds of prey hunt to feed. Fighter planes do not have an ecological niche. They are from hell. Grumman F6F.

This aircraft was the size of a tactical NBCRE-delivery jet. Small. Fast. Swept-wing. They got nervous about him when I called Patuxent River Naval Air Station (Naval Air Systems Command). Not a word. They stay nervous over there these days. That's where the test pilots are who fly the latest war birds. The ones that matter.

* note: NBCRE has been removed from Google's search engine. Web sites that discuss the term have been changed to Oriental-looking fonts that serve as encryption. They don't want you to know what NBCRE means. So I will tell you. NBCRE is a military acronym for "nuclear, biological, chemical, radiological and explosive."

Since he is so small, this jet does not serve for what they spray around here. Last year they dehydrated the monsoon both here and in India. Big tankers. Big job. Maybe he is flying drills for future operations.

I say NBCRE because that's what I would use him for if I was planning the damage. He can easily catapult from carriers. Be somewhere fast and spray nerve gas, blood agents, poison flue dust or a wide variety of disease mists. He could also drop bombs that burst in the air and scatter depleted uranium powder/dust (what "ready.gov" calls a dirty bomb).

One of these little jets can rain hell from the sky. From his air-shows around here, I have seen demonstrations of his capabilities. He could hit and run before anybody knew what hit them.

Seeing as how they are trying to frame Pakistan for "acts of terrorism," a jet like this could dump his payload anywhere and have it pass for exactly that. Our lying media would scream Pakistan or some other Muslim country in Israel's cross-hairs. Just like they did with 9/11. Then of course the predictable reaction would be more American outrage and anger which only serves to fan the flames of "wars and rumours of wars."

Their express aim in the blame-game. Like their botched attempt to sink the USS LIBERTY in 1967 and blame it on Egypt. Same tack. Same m.o. False flag, America. Wake the flock up.

As for misty pathogens, the parade of CDC's petri dishes is a long one indeed. And you thought they were just about disease control and prevention? Based on my studies of their organisational charts, web sites and manuals -- they also have a dark side. They have apparently absorbed the biological warfare department. The CDC is where those dirty dogs are hiding out. Fort Detrick has earned a stigma, so they had to move their goodies elsewhere. They ought to rename the joint to "Center for Disease Cultivation."

Note: according to military training manuals for corpsmen and medics, 100% of biological warfare is ideally "delivered" via aerosols and kills in six days or less. As a side-note, they wrote, "Biological warfare agents have been delivered by covert injection." (Chapter 1, Section 1-2, Subparagraph e., Treatment of Biological Warfare Agent Casualties Field Manual, Army/Navy/Air Force/Marines, published 17 July 2000). This thing reads like a veritable "how-to." They go into great detail of exactly how this kind of dirt is done. http://www.med.navy.mil/directives/Pub/5042.pdf

In a nutshell, the government is nervous. And more nervous still are their wire-pullers. They are frantically trying to bribe their way into a position of control over an angering multitude. One that out-numbers them by the staggering millions. Put yourself in their place. What would you do?

There seems to be a need for disease. And this little jet is just the delivery tool. Let's call it a potential weapon of mass destruction. And your tax dollars at work -- for now. I just read in the news about plans to dip deeper into your retirement savings to fund their war machine. Much like what happened in the past when economies did what ours is doing now (1920's and 1930's).

I noticed how last year what appeared to be cloud dehydration over Pakistan. Since the Nasty Nexus works as a team, this would have served to help India in her campaign to dam-up rivers and withhold water from Pakistan. Part of our government's "disrupt and dismantle" campaign is to wreak all manner of havoc in Pakistan via every dirty trick in their bag (drone bombings, so-called terrorism, power cuts, economic sabotage, withholding water, convenient droughts... then massive flooding during the rainy season. Magnified of course by India opening the "flood" gates to all their dams in Kashmir--strategically built for that purpose). The war colleges have published mega-load white papers on the subject. I of course have read them. And know how they work it. From the "global" news, they appear to be working it now.

I knew they were nervous about this little jet, because they had a P3 Orion making the rounds at the same time. P3 got binked again. Smile for the camera. They sure have us on 24/7 web cam these days. The only place they don't have cameras rolling is during preacher killings, nursing home massacres and Muslim prison torture. How convenient.

The water management district's Anne-Marie firmly told me that all her pilots were accounted for that day and none of them had been in the area that I described. She explained that they all had GPS trackers on them and she could see them on her screen.

Surely the FAA would not post a bogus record. Would they?

When I asked Ann-Marie if some of her choppers were out on loan she firmly told me no. Oh for the unsolved mysteries. How deep and still is the water, Mr. Water Management District? Is it as deep as the records at the FAA? They were nervous enough about them to remove their N-Number Look-Up page for a while and then nervous enough to put it back on their web site. Can we call that waffling?

I know the flying schedule of the aerosol tankers and their surveillance teams. And ask questions like: Why would they need/want surveillance teams? Surveillance for what? Against whom? Why are they concerned about who sees them doing what they do?

This chopper was right on time for the usual daily surveillance fly-by's and buzz-jobs. That's only from my end. What Ann-Marie said supports my thoughts, however. Ones that are swayed by things that have happened in the past. Like the Department of Homeland Security's U.S. Coast Guard chopper spot-lighting our bedroom windows and checking the driveway at two in the morning. Positive I.D. on that one. I was wide awake under a tree in the back yard -- waiting for him. It's not like you couldn't hear him coming. Or see him coming, strobes illuminating danger-orange and white. Then there were the Cessna's circling our house for hours whose numbers registered to the Deptartment of Justice and Monroe County Sheriff's Office. Little things like that.

There is motive for bogus N-Numbers if you are flying DHS surveillance. Government snoop types seek to be covert. The idea is to watch people when they don't know they are being watched. No-name, no-speak, sunglasses and limo tint. A spy is secretive. He uses code words, encryption, feints, ruses and camouflage. Gives a left turn signal and then turns right.

Adding weight to my theory is that after I spoke to Ann-Marie and her media relations person, the driveway checkers went on stand-down. Haven't seen them since. What does it mean?

Note: Blogspot editing software has disabled my link-posting. So you will have to copy/paste addresses into your URL windows. URL is another acronym that means Uniform Resource Locator. More "inside-speak" from another industry who doesn't want you to know what they are talking about. Keep in mind that government and their industrial partners work very hard to make their language difficult for you to understand.

I gottum down. But they are workable. Everybody is.

Ever seen a man at the bitter end of his life? Under glaring fluorescent lights, hooked up to machines? He's in a disparaging gown tied at the back with strings. The medicals who administer to his "end of life" needs are detached, clinical, reptilian. They are a product of his design and steerage. Now he's tasting some of his own medicine. And getting the medical care that he so richly deserves.

You know this man? Among the richest in the world but nobody wants to know him now. They're afraid they might catch what he's got. This mortality for which he could purchase no cure. None of his fair-weather sycophants care to flatter him now. The food-taster has flown the coop. Digestion shut-down days ago. No more worrying about poisoned lobster bisque. No more energy to lord over a world of exploited mill horses. Now it's just you and the Great Wide Open. You ready?

There is nobody I hate. And nobody I'm giving up on. Inside every bad person there is a Scrooge on Christmas Eve. We all hit it sooner or later. Better sooner than later. And better late than never. http://shpearson.wordpress.com/

From Iraq w/Love

This published in a national weekly last year, but it wants more exposure.

My husband, filled with Christian charity, sent me a photograph from Iraq that was supposed to make me feel good inside.  Since his long absence  making war on behalf of Israel, he has been piloting home-front relations via florists, war-fighting logo t-shirts and many "morale-boosting" photographs of the troops I am expected to support.

Among these photographs can be found one of him cleaning a pistol while couching in one of Saddam Hussein's bombed-out palaces.  The photo was made for me in keeping with the military's "ready to fight but mentally right" campaign.

They encourage a happy-go-lucky attitude in what they call "our troops" and foster the same in their wives via Stateside wife support groups.  Uncle Sam wants to make sure that our creek never runs too deep by having distractions, social activities and "little jobs" to keep us busy and content.

In this photo my husband sat amid the rubble of air-strikes in what used to be an opulent chair.  To me there was something dour about the photograph -- as disemboweling and grim as the ruins of Dresden and Hiroshima.

When he sent me a photo of his Christian Bible study group posing with their humanitarian mental hygiene, it did not elicit the hoped-for applause.  Instead I saw the photo as a taunting mockery against Israel's victims via unwitting military Christians.


These Christians in uniform did not seem to know that they have been pitted against Muslims on behalf of Israel.  Here was a fighting force in a country they had invaded on behalf of bullying Israel -- posing with improvised, low-budget wheelchairs they were encouraged to make for children who have been crippled by war.
The wheelchair makers were told that their legless recipients are victims of improvised explosive devices that are the mainstay of local warring Muslim factions.  Do they expect us to believe that?  Who would shoot himself in the foot by expending resources and energy fighting his own countrymen while being invaded by a hostile, foreign army on behalf of Islam's greatest enemy?  It's  like Baitullah Mehsud's death.  I will have to put my finger in his wounds to believe it.  Show me the DNA, Mr. Forensics.

The last thing we need is more of the Wizard's propaganda.  The words used by President Obama shed light on an insidious undercurrent at work in the Middle East, "...disrupt and dismantle."  Before one conquers, one seeks to divide.

In the Punjab and Pakistan, for example, power outages are presently being used to torture and harass civilians.  This creates internal strife and detracts from a country's unity -- much like the drone strikes that pretended to go after Baitullah Mehsud for so long, while killing and maiming non-combatant civilians.

These insulting wheelchairs seem to be fostered by the same regime who writes anti-Muslim propaganda on the Wizard's Wikipedia. Of the strategically-fortuitous power outages in Pakistan, the Wikipedia writes " Pakistani politicians are known to be congenital liars," and how no relief is in sight for Pakistanis due to the "hopelessness and incapability of successive administrations in Pakistan."  It is obvious who is writing for the Wikipedia -- pots calling the kettle black who are worried about Pakistani nukes.  The same bunch who seeks to ban guns in America for the same reason.

So when I saw these cheaply-made wheelchairs with hard plastic seats, it broke my heart that a regime who spends billions on making war for Israel can do no better than this for Islam's little victims.  Shame on the war department for how they spend our money.

Gargoyles Unite

Shortly after publishing my exposé on MicroSoft's Cyber Police State, all manner of harpies swooped down on my computer.  They diseased  software with new venom.  Everything on my computer was attacked.  It was a tidal wave of remote control, forced programs and override.

One day a "public folder" appeared at the bottom of my computer screen.  It could not be deleted.  I was uncertain of it's function but deduced that it may have been a remote access portal to my c: drive.

While this was happening I thought about how many cars and aircraft have computers in them now.  Aircraft can be flown by computers and GPS navigation systems.  If they can do what they did to my computer via remote control, then they can hi-jack a plane at 33,000 feet and do whatever they want with it.

They shoot missiles into the houses of sleeping people in Pakistan from remote control drones.  It is plausible to think, thereby, that this is how 9/11 happened.  They could have done it via remote control override.

OnStar and BMW Assist, for example, can take remote control of a stolen car.  They can decelerate and stop the engine with software that overrides the driver's manual controls.  Since aircraft can be flown by computers, how much of a stretch is it to commandeer a jet via computer interface?  Casts 9/11 in a new light, doesn't it?

Back to the harpies.  It was like they convened a think-tank of  psychiatrists, optometrists and software engineers to come up with the most damage.  How can they peck thee?  Let me count the ways.

Google, Firefox and AOL got microscopic fonts all of a sudden.  MicroSoft’s mouse began clicking places on its own.  The cursor jumped all over the page to random places. 

America Online and other browsers sent (apparently) tailor-made messages designed to insult, taunt and harass.  Google ads was in on the fun.  Ad hominem that is.  There were tailor made ads galore.  The venom had a signature stench. 

Sprint cell phone company was in on the act.  Their network was making calls in my name to people I never called.  These people would call my cell phone and ask why I was calling them.  

My Sprint cell phone out-going log was having phone numbers deleted from the list.  There is reason to believe that this was happening to incoming calls also.

Sprint cell phone company had designed software that sent me bogus messages on my cell phone.  One message said that my battery was low after a few minutes of cell phone usage.  I would get annoying beeps and bogus messages.  But what Sprint Network could not have known is that a friend from Sprint had recently given me a new cell phone battery.

AOL had designed a new colour palette expressly for me.  It looked like they were advised by their optometrist.  All the colours were pastels -- worthless for highlighting text.  Shades of castrated warm and cool.  Nothing hot and cold.  Like a tiger whose teeth and claws had been removed.

AOL,  AT&T, Firefox and Explorer were rife with bogus warning caveats, pop-ups and “helpful” reminders.  They inundated me with annoying, crowding, animated, distracting, and insulting advertisements.    

A web site that I used for relaxation had all my favourite video clips removed.

My Sprint cell phone contained threatening prank voice mail messages along with insulting, harassment-style text messages.  

The cyber-harpies are not that far removed from the aviation ones I suppose.  I have already listed some of the buzz-jobs I’ve been getting around here.  C-130’s and P3 Orions for starters.  Unmanned aerial vehicles, hang gliders, Cessna’s, choppers and prop-jobs ad nauseam.  Harpies unite.  

Japan's Nikon Corporation sent me a 60-day free trial of their latest photo editing software.  Apparently MicroSoft overshadowed this with a tailor-made mockery of their own.   They snuck it onto my computer via their “free automatic downloads" port.  When I tried to access the Nikon software on my computer, I would get detoured to MicroSoft's “mockery” version.  It was of course worthless and ridiculous.  But they only had a few days to laugh about it.

I noticed other web sites with similar re-routes and detours.  My brother’s USMC web site, for example, 1stmarines.org, is such a one.  While using MicroSoft computers I would get re-directed to a fabricated decoy site that I felt was not authentic.  It had lots of links to “donation collection” sites that I feel are tied to Israeli interests.

My experience with MicroSoft products and computers has prompted a veer into a new direction:  Macintosh.  With Steve Jobs’ Network, you no longer have a need for Norton’s Rottweiler to protect you from “Burn this virus like hell” -- from Amsterdam with love.  Norton stopped ‘um cold.  What protects your attackers also protects you.  Dam that Norton.  Gotta love the Hague.  But now I love my Macintosh.  Get some.

My recent attacks from these bridge trolls means that I must be doing something right.  Long live Nikon!  They make great cameras and fearsome lenses.  Sixty-day free trial of their latest photo editor is available on capturenx.com.  Get some!  Don’t swallow that dumbed-down version from Bill Gates.  It only lets you see pictures at 33% resolution.  It’s part of the MicroSoft photography-killer campaign.  Freelance photo-journalists are freaking out the American Cheka. 

In conclusion, here is a list of the companies that locked arms with MicroSoft in a concerted siege against my computer, photography and cell phone:

Sprint

AT&T

AOL

MicroSoft

Google

Firefox

Wordpress editing software corrupted 

Blogspot editing software corrupted

Lost Boys

The psychology of Apollyon only works on the ego-centric.  His shadow-play rattles a man whose self-worth is tied to the size of his boat.  The rank on his coat.  A car.  A bridge too far. 

The ego-centric can be controlled by their worldly desires and self-worship.  They are ruled by others of their kind who have more money.  Such men can purchase the smiles of mercenary women.  And buy the business-end of mercenary armies.   

The ego has been demonized in the Third World East for centuries, yet is exploited in the West where man is led by the nose with it.  I am learning today's application of this concept.  Some of the herd you want to be ego'less.  And some of them you want to steer by their egos.  Depends on what kind of herd you're talking about and what kind of use you have for them.

The new god is called Existence, Universe, Cosmos, Logos.  Seekers are told that ego is spiritually-crippling.  That it will thwart their path to enlightenment.  Their leaders, lecturers, masters and teachers tell them that they are part of a cosmic ocean.  A drop that will return to the main.  Part of a larger whole.  They are all a piece of the pie in the sky.  Where nobody makes the rules.  Because there aren't any.  There is no right or wrong.  No honour or dishonour.  Life is purposeless.

How convenient.  A useful schpeal for dismantling morality-based societies.  Just tell them that they are God and anything goes.  There will be no hell to pay for anything they do because sin does not exist and life has no purpose anyway.  But don't forget to tell them that death has "the sting of a thousand scorpions."  How else have them dread and fear it?  How else manipulate the masses during this purposeless life of theirs?  "O' death where is thy sting?" 

According to the Lost Boys, it's right here.  Notice that Messrs. Rockefeller and Rothschild appear to be concerned about "I, me and mine."  What dwindling pristine rill do they not covet?  Could they be the ones bank-rolling today's blanket spirituality?  Would it behoove them in managing their enslaved multitudes?  Should their maxim be, "Do as I say, not as I do?" 

Should one practice what one preaches?  I have read that a leader is respected most who leads from the front and by example.  One who shouts from the saddle and the diaphragm, "Follow me!"  Is beloved of his men like one who casts broad his seed in a whisper, "Do as I do."

Today on every campus, in every city, at every turn there pervades a common mantra.  It adheres so rigidly to the same stripe that it could be a company logo.  Every counselor uses the same lecture and gives the same advice.  Every organisation, institution, foundation, bureaucracy and corporation adheres to it.  The buzz-word is compliance.

Case-in-point:  British Petroleum.

The Wizard's Big Nebula is as substantial as his Big Bang.  A story you tell "the people" to lead them to the cliff's edge.  Like the concept put forth in M. C. Piper's book, The Judas Goats.  Somebody you trust promises you the moon -- so you follow him.

Enlightenment these days is a popular word used by corporate lecturers.  They never put too fine a point on it.  Who tells you what it is or what it means?  The Wizard rather dangles it before his hopeful wagon-horse.

The Wizard-funded, Wizard-supported one world spirituality:  the black void of Abaddon, gaping maw, broad path, sucking black hole, the ruse colossal, the righteous road -- to nowhere.

The New Slavery

Driving into the country I passed a church that sums up today's loose, tepid grip. On their announcement board were the words, "With open minds and open hearts." As if announcing their fealty to Abaddon's New Church Order. Open to anything. Anchored in nothing.

I wonder if Abaddon's (Revelation 9:11) gullible void knows who is picking their beans?

Passing centrist central, I drove by what looked like slaves working in the fields. Two school buses were parked amid a sea of beans. They had been bused out there like so much human cargo to labour in the fields. I asked the nearest girl in Spanish how much they paid her an hour to do this work. She answered, "No se," meaning that she did not know.

The workers were all of a similar stature, skin tone and purity of breed. They looked like they came from an equatorial place or rainforest. The girl I spoke with seemed fearful of me. She bore the expression of culture shock given to new arrivals.

A local woman told me how she thought it was cruel how they treated these people. She said they were constantly threatened with deportation. So one is compelled to ask, how much are they paying these people an hour?

Not long ago I found a flyer wedged in my door. It offered trash can cleaning services. Never heard of those before. Have you? Since when has this kind of thing been offered -- and for dirt cheap? Since when did we last see slave labour in this country? I drove to this advertisement's business office.  It was not easy to find. The man there nearly came out of his skin when I asked for a job application. He either could not or would not produce one. He was visibly disturbed, rose from his desk and told me to leave his office.

Perhaps his cheap labour force comes from the same "horn of plenty" as those I saw slaving in the fields,
http://www.trashcancleanersusa.com/

Making Sport of Mother's Tears

How dare they mock our bereft solemnity?  How dare they make sport of mother's tears?  How dare they cheapen our bereavement?  How dare they sprinkle salt into the wounds they have inflicted and laugh about it in print?  How dare they make light of our young widows on Memorial Day?  These sardonic vultures who call themselves journalists:  http://www.politicsdaily.com/2010/05/29/on-memorial-day-remember-the-mothers-children-wives-and-lover/?icid=mainhtmlws-main-ndl1link3http%3A%2F%Fwww.politicsdaily.com%2F2010%2F05%2F29%2Fon-memorial-day-remember-the-mothers-children-wives-and-lover%2F