Since this pretext began, it seems to me that each year there would be so many blood offerings. It is what I call them because I do not believe them to be what the "news" reported.
It is like each year, so many people are sacrificed to "The War on Terror." Among these corpses one finds low-echelon government contractors, journalists, refugees, innocent by-standers, women and children, "displaced persons", of course Benazir Bhutto, Iraqi military-augmentation police, random citizens from Pakistan, Kashmir, Afghanistan, Iran, India, and the USA.
Notice how our purchased politicians enjoy immunity by the way. They are exempt from bullets and bombers world-wide, whilst a Congressman like Jim Traficant gets sent to prison on a flimsy, fabricated kanga-ruse.
Our "top military leaders" appear to be immune from "terrorist" attacks also -- as a steady stream of young soldiers and Marines in boxes is flown back to their bereft mothers. Aye, to the bitter tears of their fathers, sisters and brothers.
I believe that there is no terror, save what is staged. In the clearing smoke, I smell friendly fire and thugs for hire. Like each year there is a quota of so many slain that get listed under the government's body-count. Hapless corpses that are sent home for burial as "proof" that there is a war on. To stir up anger, outrage and keep the "fight" going.
What I have not seen proven is who this terrorist is supposed to be. It's going on ten years. If we are waging a war against terrorism, don't we deserve to see what a real terrorist looks like? So far all I've seen are bloody body-parts from "so-called" suicide bombers who can no longer talk. And face-down, mutilated dead men in turbans with captions under their photos, labeling them as militants, insurgents, terrorists and gunmen.
The few alleged terrorists who have survived their tortures in kangaroo prisons say that they were snatched from the streets and locked up without charge. Collected like so many flowers on a hill-side, these Muslim men were "nabbed" not unlike the "surplus poor" from Irish and English streets who were sold into white slavery over the last centuries. You know, the little kids who worked the textile mills and oyster shucking houses in bare feet and dirty faces. Pre-pubescent boys with the countenances of broken old men staring into the camera eye. Those little chaps were "nabbed" also. I recently read in The Barnes Review about how this is where the term "kid-napping" got its name. The original word was "kid-nabbing."
There seems to be a lot of nabbing still going on. Girls and women are nabbed for lives of prostitution against their will, for example. Also in the porn industry you can see evidence of this. Just check the expressions on some of the girls in today's porn movies. I dare you. Their eyes tell all.
How far-fetched is it thereby to think that Muslim men of fighting age would be nabbed for populating prisons of a burgeoning imperium? This serves two purposes. One, it weakens the Resistance and two, it gives names and faces to sham-terrorism. Many of these guys can't speak English so it's easy to say -- that they said things they didn't say. Who in America can speak their language anyway?
Where are those C5-sized loads flying at 0320 in the morning? And who is their cargo? Guantanamo sure is a happenin' place these days. I've never seen so many planes wearing a path in the sky heading in that direction. How convenient for the government that these nabbing joints are on a Bolshevik island. Even their own people are braving bull-sharks at night to get away from the place.
No, I don't see any terrorists. All I see are dead bodies who can't talk. And men trying to defend their homes from strike fighters, bombs, drones and "allied" invaders. A few words to drive the point home: offensive, attack, onslaught, surge. If it was happening to you and your family, what would you do? How would you feel?
As for the sham pretext of 9/11, the man behind the curtain has been exposed. Now he's tap-dancing in the wind, palms-up. How much longer before the bamboo hook?
http://shpearson.wordpress.com/
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Orion
Months ago, I noticed how the Belt of Orion was straight as a ruler in the eastern sky. Then the next night it was astronomically correct. It was as if the computer geek who put it up there had either never taken astronomy or was out sick the day they covered it in class. The center star in Orion's Belt is slightly askew, you see.
Speaking of Orion, yesterday at 0925, a P3-Orion submarine hunter nearly grazed my back garden fence. Radars justa blarin'. He was low and loud as he could be. Reminded me of Daddy when he used to fly by our house to say hello to Momma on his way to the Basin. The mythical Basin that inspired my juvenilia. Deep and broad, a barn-stormer's dream. Into it he dove with his eager craft and did a hundred things you have not dreamed of. In his flashy tail-dragger, throwing back the sun from laughter-silvered wings.
The P3 pilot was about other things. He was about his father's business. No John Gillespie Magee was he. Nor can he hold a candle to my Daddy.
Just another common trollop. Told that he can pack a wallop. A war-plane the size of Dodi al Fayed's yacht who buzzes houses in the suburbs. What a whore. I remember when pilots used to be a little more. We all know who this guy's workin' for.
Then when I raised my camera, he fled like the rout at Bull Run. Signature of an unprincipled man.
Speaking of Orion, yesterday at 0925, a P3-Orion submarine hunter nearly grazed my back garden fence. Radars justa blarin'. He was low and loud as he could be. Reminded me of Daddy when he used to fly by our house to say hello to Momma on his way to the Basin. The mythical Basin that inspired my juvenilia. Deep and broad, a barn-stormer's dream. Into it he dove with his eager craft and did a hundred things you have not dreamed of. In his flashy tail-dragger, throwing back the sun from laughter-silvered wings.
The P3 pilot was about other things. He was about his father's business. No John Gillespie Magee was he. Nor can he hold a candle to my Daddy.
Just another common trollop. Told that he can pack a wallop. A war-plane the size of Dodi al Fayed's yacht who buzzes houses in the suburbs. What a whore. I remember when pilots used to be a little more. We all know who this guy's workin' for.
Then when I raised my camera, he fled like the rout at Bull Run. Signature of an unprincipled man.
(experience The Basin, http://shpearson.wordpress.com/ )
Saturday, February 27, 2010
The Dark Side of Chiropractic
One should be warned of a human factor in the chiropractic industry. The profession lends itself to abuse. Should a chiropractor be dishonest (imagine that), tempted to drum-up more business or just angry at his patient, he can easily turn instruments of healing into those of injury. His hands top the list.
According to the history of chiropractic, it seems to have originated from a spiritual charism. Some people throughout history have been gifted with healing knacks. On the coattails of these gifted ones ride today's quacks.
These people were called "bone-setters." They had a magic touch for healing pain in the joints, particularly those of the back. The vertebral joints, their disks and dynamics are the domain of bone-setters. Fixing what ails people there comes as naturally to them as leading armies does to a virago.
Bone-setters applied strategic thrusts, aligning the spinal column, setting bones aright. What they did cannot be explained by modern technology, as bone-setters practiced their craft many centuries B.C. People would come to them from miles around like tribal people came to their holy men.
Given the sacred origin of this healing craft, today's schools of chiropractic cannot be compared with it. From my studies about the phenomenon, one does not become a bone-setter. One is rather born a bone-setter. Like the Lakota holy man who has visions about the future, you can't set up a technical school that teaches people how to do that.
In chiropractic today, there is a curious instrument called an activator. It is a spring-loaded hammer that looks like a miniature pogo stick. This hand-held device is used most commonly to strike the transverse and spinous processes of the vertebrae. Proponents of its use claim that this little hammer helps adjust spinal misalignments, also known as "vertebral subluxations" -- the diagnosis of which is not clearly discernable outside of risky radiation imagery (x-rays) which is pushed at chiropractic offices beyond necessity.
Chiropractors claim that subluxations can also be detected by observing the length of a patient's legs, when they are measured side-by-side. I do not accept this as a science. For injuries, magnetic resonance imagery is a substantial method of diagnosis to be considered. If a gentle, hands-only spinal adjustment does not do the trick, then what ails you is something beyond the scope of the chiropractor anyway. Get thee to an MRI lab if you want to know the brass-tacks.
If there is no pain present, it is a good indicator that things are fine. When it comes to bones, leaving what is not broken, unbroken is better for the spine. These eager-beaver doctors should be told that if nothing hurts, then Dude -- don't fix it.
As things read to me, medical questionnaires are not so much about diagnosis as they are about fishing. The doctor is fishing for ways to make you feel sick and worried. Every medical student knows that studying diseases can manifest in physical symptoms. As does the hypnotist who's bread and butter is the power of suggestion.
Did your mother die of kidney failure? Then that is perhaps how you will die (hint-hint). Are you sometimes depressed or divorced? Well naturally you're a crack-pot in need of psychotropic medication. What else is wrong with you? Let's cast the jitter-bug a little farther this time. Do you have night sweats? Based on your age, the sky is falling. We have some pills for that. How's your sex-life? Not so good? We need to get you on some hormones right away or else you'll surely lose your mind.
You get the idea. So at the chiro's, expect a similar questionnaire about all the things that are supposed to be wrong with you. And how the bones in your back are all related to it -- somehow. If the white-coat industry pushed Amish veggies and vigorous exercise as hard as they pushed pills, their industry would dwindle to tying off bleeders and end-of-life morphine.
The activator can be used to align a subluxated vertebra by striking one of the handy bone levers (transverse or spinous process) and thusly snap it back into its proper place again. Likewise, the activator can also be used to knock a perfectly-good bone askew using the same method. If this is the case, you will feel it. It will hurt. Keep in mind that not only is a spinal adjustment not supposed to hurt -- but if done correctly, it should feel good, like your little sister walking on your back after band practice.
According to the bone-setters, your body has a wisdom of its own and gets its walking orders from a higher place. Injury and disease are made known to you in obvious ways. If all you do with your body is ride a daily couch, then these ways will be less obvious.
The spine has a propensity to right itself by simple traction. Hang upside-down from the monkey bars for a while and listen for the popping sounds. Doesn't that feel good? That is your spine aligning itself.
Ideally, the activator spring tension is supposed to be loaded to an amplitude commensurate with the bone size and density that it is intended to adjust. Should the hammer strike a small bone with high-enough amplitude, a fracture can result. If the activator is used to secretly injure a patient, he may think that he injured himself and seek help for the new pain from the same person who caused it.
Chiropractic is not recognised by most insurance companies and thereby shares a predictable decline with other alternative therapies in today's economy. This sets the stage for fraud, abuse and deliberate injury of patients who would otherwise only visit their chiropractors when they have hoisted a heavy cat, or something.
In the case of angry chiropractors, one should be aware that "neck adjustments" can be used to tear every muscle in your neck. All a skilled injurer needs is four seconds to make it happen. But your body will require two weeks to make it heal. The damage inflicted will remind you each time you turn your head, however slightly, that you should not have asked for that itemized list of costs and services.
Some chiropractors may be angered by having to produce a document of charges and services for their patient's records. Such documents hold the chiropractor to what has been put in writing and are safeguards against fast-talking duplicity.
One doctor recently told a patient that based on x-rays he found a subluxation that he then treated with what felt like a blow from a carpenter's hammer. Yet when the patient called him to task, he could not point out which bone it was on the x-rays -- which showed no sign of subluxation. The blow to the patient's vertebra was inflicted during a prone position without warning. The patient complained of fracture-class pain that took several months to subside.
Lessons learned: always demand everything in writing up front. Nothing a chiropractor does should require you to remove clothing. Never submit to unnecessary x-rays. Never let a chiropractor use an activator hammer on your body unless you are willing to risk broken or dislocated bones. Ask the chiropractor exactly what his adjustment process entails before you let him touch you. http://shpearson.wordpress.com
** Sources
(1) Scott Haldeman, Principles and Practice of Chiropractic (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2005)
(2) The Empirical, 2009
According to the history of chiropractic, it seems to have originated from a spiritual charism. Some people throughout history have been gifted with healing knacks. On the coattails of these gifted ones ride today's quacks.
These people were called "bone-setters." They had a magic touch for healing pain in the joints, particularly those of the back. The vertebral joints, their disks and dynamics are the domain of bone-setters. Fixing what ails people there comes as naturally to them as leading armies does to a virago.
Bone-setters applied strategic thrusts, aligning the spinal column, setting bones aright. What they did cannot be explained by modern technology, as bone-setters practiced their craft many centuries B.C. People would come to them from miles around like tribal people came to their holy men.
Given the sacred origin of this healing craft, today's schools of chiropractic cannot be compared with it. From my studies about the phenomenon, one does not become a bone-setter. One is rather born a bone-setter. Like the Lakota holy man who has visions about the future, you can't set up a technical school that teaches people how to do that.
In chiropractic today, there is a curious instrument called an activator. It is a spring-loaded hammer that looks like a miniature pogo stick. This hand-held device is used most commonly to strike the transverse and spinous processes of the vertebrae. Proponents of its use claim that this little hammer helps adjust spinal misalignments, also known as "vertebral subluxations" -- the diagnosis of which is not clearly discernable outside of risky radiation imagery (x-rays) which is pushed at chiropractic offices beyond necessity.
Chiropractors claim that subluxations can also be detected by observing the length of a patient's legs, when they are measured side-by-side. I do not accept this as a science. For injuries, magnetic resonance imagery is a substantial method of diagnosis to be considered. If a gentle, hands-only spinal adjustment does not do the trick, then what ails you is something beyond the scope of the chiropractor anyway. Get thee to an MRI lab if you want to know the brass-tacks.
If there is no pain present, it is a good indicator that things are fine. When it comes to bones, leaving what is not broken, unbroken is better for the spine. These eager-beaver doctors should be told that if nothing hurts, then Dude -- don't fix it.
As things read to me, medical questionnaires are not so much about diagnosis as they are about fishing. The doctor is fishing for ways to make you feel sick and worried. Every medical student knows that studying diseases can manifest in physical symptoms. As does the hypnotist who's bread and butter is the power of suggestion.
Did your mother die of kidney failure? Then that is perhaps how you will die (hint-hint). Are you sometimes depressed or divorced? Well naturally you're a crack-pot in need of psychotropic medication. What else is wrong with you? Let's cast the jitter-bug a little farther this time. Do you have night sweats? Based on your age, the sky is falling. We have some pills for that. How's your sex-life? Not so good? We need to get you on some hormones right away or else you'll surely lose your mind.
You get the idea. So at the chiro's, expect a similar questionnaire about all the things that are supposed to be wrong with you. And how the bones in your back are all related to it -- somehow. If the white-coat industry pushed Amish veggies and vigorous exercise as hard as they pushed pills, their industry would dwindle to tying off bleeders and end-of-life morphine.
The activator can be used to align a subluxated vertebra by striking one of the handy bone levers (transverse or spinous process) and thusly snap it back into its proper place again. Likewise, the activator can also be used to knock a perfectly-good bone askew using the same method. If this is the case, you will feel it. It will hurt. Keep in mind that not only is a spinal adjustment not supposed to hurt -- but if done correctly, it should feel good, like your little sister walking on your back after band practice.
According to the bone-setters, your body has a wisdom of its own and gets its walking orders from a higher place. Injury and disease are made known to you in obvious ways. If all you do with your body is ride a daily couch, then these ways will be less obvious.
The spine has a propensity to right itself by simple traction. Hang upside-down from the monkey bars for a while and listen for the popping sounds. Doesn't that feel good? That is your spine aligning itself.
Ideally, the activator spring tension is supposed to be loaded to an amplitude commensurate with the bone size and density that it is intended to adjust. Should the hammer strike a small bone with high-enough amplitude, a fracture can result. If the activator is used to secretly injure a patient, he may think that he injured himself and seek help for the new pain from the same person who caused it.
Chiropractic is not recognised by most insurance companies and thereby shares a predictable decline with other alternative therapies in today's economy. This sets the stage for fraud, abuse and deliberate injury of patients who would otherwise only visit their chiropractors when they have hoisted a heavy cat, or something.
In the case of angry chiropractors, one should be aware that "neck adjustments" can be used to tear every muscle in your neck. All a skilled injurer needs is four seconds to make it happen. But your body will require two weeks to make it heal. The damage inflicted will remind you each time you turn your head, however slightly, that you should not have asked for that itemized list of costs and services.
Some chiropractors may be angered by having to produce a document of charges and services for their patient's records. Such documents hold the chiropractor to what has been put in writing and are safeguards against fast-talking duplicity.
One doctor recently told a patient that based on x-rays he found a subluxation that he then treated with what felt like a blow from a carpenter's hammer. Yet when the patient called him to task, he could not point out which bone it was on the x-rays -- which showed no sign of subluxation. The blow to the patient's vertebra was inflicted during a prone position without warning. The patient complained of fracture-class pain that took several months to subside.
Lessons learned: always demand everything in writing up front. Nothing a chiropractor does should require you to remove clothing. Never submit to unnecessary x-rays. Never let a chiropractor use an activator hammer on your body unless you are willing to risk broken or dislocated bones. Ask the chiropractor exactly what his adjustment process entails before you let him touch you. http://shpearson.wordpress.com
** Sources
(1) Scott Haldeman, Principles and Practice of Chiropractic (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2005)
(2) The Empirical, 2009
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Camps, Pens and Kent State
Showtime's sleazy allegory smacks of the same dagger that hangs over Americans from state and federal prison web sites. They are linked to fabricated "psy-op" sites that brandish similar swords of Damocles, reeking of CIA's cuddly bed-buddy, the ADL. It is my belief that CIA and ADL are close nestlers due to studies of their texts and familiarity with their writing styles, formats, general modus operandi in the field, et cetera. We have had a few years to watch and study them. They are not the only kids on campus.
The Anti-Defamation League (they live to defame, by the way) is a non-government affiliated friend on whom the government can depend -- to spread dis-info, propaganda, fear-juice and bogus drivel from which the government wants to distance itself. Not only for the obvious reasons, but also for legal fine print.
Back to the daggers. Some web sites exhibit humiliating photographs of inmates taking showers and being marched around on their daily routines. In the one below, the writer pokes fun at prisoners and issues thinly-veiled threats to anyone visiting the web site. He implies that they too can find themselves in this predicament.
On prison sites I have read what I deem postings of bad taste. Lurid details and witness testimonies of execution attendees who watched a man die in the electric chair. The list was long of those who watched this horrific thing. They went into great detail in their wordy accounts describing every drop of fluid that oozed from the man's body. Way too much information. They give us these details but CNN won't report the honest news?
This is a fear tactic targeting anyone who is curious about those federal prison camps springing up all over the place. FEMA Camps they call them. They are large capacity concentration camps. Their locations are no longer a secret. Sites like this drive the spike in deeper of what our government has been covertly working on for decades.
Here, in colors and contrasts designed to strain your eyes, you can read your fill of menacing, psychiatric rhetoric designed to make you afraid of your government. It is pickled in the venom of contempt. Like the man who sends a two-year old filly to the slaughter house for losing a high-stakes race. Same venom. It has a distinct flavour: http://www.federalprisoncamptour.com/index/html
You will note how this fabricated site links to official federal and state prison sites (no doubt with collusion and support). The government appears to be worried about what to do with millions of angry citizens who grow more angry by the day as they learn what their government has been up to for not just 60 years, but for ov
er a century. Truly the manifest-ation of Howard Rheingold's biggest nightmare:
smart mobs.
Unlike the crude, illiterate mob that was harnessed to bring about the Bolshevik Revolution, you people are capable of independent thought. Despite what your "shadow government" may write and say about you, they know that you are not at the mercy of their translations, public speeches and propaganda. You can choose where you get your news.
That is why they are presently racing to enact legislation to muzzle Internet broadcasts, censor and ban blogs like this one and block other sorts of media that publish
news you can't get from CNN. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGw3_U91utUThis has them worried. You are a powder-keg of might and voting power. As we are taught by the war colleges, deception, intimidation and martial law have their uses. A fitting example is what the National Guard did at Kent State University in 1970. Boy, did that ever back-fire, huh Mr. War College.
A bunch of trigger-happy weekend warriors sprayed rapid fire into a crowd of unarmed college students -- oops. They killed a few of them and kicked off the fire-storm of protest that would cripple the Vietnam war machine. Slam-dunk. Protests whose anthems were sung by Jim Morrison, John Lennon and a chorus of other voices who threatened the government from a rock & roll stage.
The Vietnam War hype received a killing blow in Ohio that day. People were wising up to the fact that Vietnam -- was a sham. Just like what's happening right now in Afghanistan. Costing us much in blood and treasure, these wars are making war contractors rich and corpses of our sons. They are making billions on the blood of armies and their victims.
History does indeed repeat. Given that, and knowing the outcome of large public outcry, the party-hat war machine is getting nervous. Their gravy train might soon come to a screeching halt. And that's not what they want. They want war in the Middle East for years. And years and years and years. It serves so many of their aims.
Kill-off Muslims, the hated neighbors of Israel. Reduce American population. Finish-off our economy and national sovereignty. Enslave us to international tyranny. Enlarge our monstrous government and line the pockets of international bankers in the process just like every war since Waterloo.
So yeah, they have motive to make cowards of you. Jim Morrison spoke his mind on stage, digressing copiously between songs. He tangled racks with police everywhere he went, I believe, not because he was drunk and obnoxious. But because he opposed the Vietnam war and was an embarrassment to his flag officer father. He was found conveniently dead in his Paris bath tub at the ripe old age of 27.
Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin followed suit. Heroin we are told. Nobody got too old. Not even Ronnie VanZant or John Lennon. Any charismatic, anti-government voice that drew big crowds. Think about it. Can you sway public opinion?
Many seminal voices have been silenced over the years. They kill journalists like crazy world-wide. Dangerous business, writing the news if you are not allergic to truth. John F. Kennedy was a potentate. Don't forget Italy's Aldo Moro. Do you see the pattern?
I think the next presidential election will be interesting.
http://shpearson.wordpress.com/
Monday, February 15, 2010
Consider the Source
Thinly-veiled allegory, no? http://shpearson.wordpress.com/2010/02/15/henrys-dagger/
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Hot Smoke
I watched a mental hygiene movie aimed at Marines. In Cover Me, it looked like a chaplain working his way down the ranks as he took both hands of each Marine in his, saying, "you're gonna make it." With ceremoniously crossed arms, he gripped their hands firmly, offering words of encouragement. It was apparent that his moves were well-rehearsed. Looking them in the eye, giving it all he had by way of religious witchcraft, he cast his spell of faith, hope and apple pie. The chaplain did his best to put the military hocus-pocus on gullible youth. Those poor boys swallowed it hook, line and sinker. Then marched off to war.
Vietnam all over again, yes? You should read the freak postings of that faceless, nick-named nurse on one of the medical forums. He/she goes on about the field medicine practice opportunities in the blood-bath of Afghanistan. Oh how sweet it is to get the chance to saw somebody's leg off, right? Their stuff reads like a scene from Fangoria. Screw the Hippocratic Oath, let's just compare horror stories. The giddy, o'-so-delightful listings of goodies from the war zone include tales of battle wounds, exotic infections and other "fascinating accounts" of blood and guts.
I don't think these people are Angels in Green. They won't list their real names. I file them in the genre of the emergency medical technician who couldn't wait for his next ambulance ride so he could take Polaroids of the dead people from high-speed car crashes. Then trade them like baseball cards with his paramedic pals later in the snack room.
This long war, like Vietnam, is attracting vultures, ghouls, morgue freaks, opportunists and "dee-fence" contractors who are making a killing off of killing. In the mean time, Stateside, you have suicidal recruiters who are tired of telling lies and blowing hot smoke at high school boys.
There are legions of "professions" skimming more than their share off the war machine. The medical mania looks like a swarm of cat-eyed reef sharks tearing into fresh meat. They can't get there fast enough to rip off their piece of the action -- so they can brag about it. I just wanna slap them down. They shall never stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Navy corpsmen I have known. Never.
I have felt the jagged fingers of Lewis Puller, Jr., as he shook my hand from a wheelchair. He was an advising lawyer on the General's Staff back then. When he wheeled out from behind his desk, I was shocked. He was missing both legs from the hip. The
Marines in his Platoon told me that Puller stepped on a booby-trapped Howitzer shell. It was from these Marines that I learned the value of a corpsman. And the value of a man who is thrust into war on a half-asst whim. Sent back a fragment. And is expected to get on with his life. Puller gave it a shot. Gave it all he had. Then he shot himself. (photo from the handsome Webmaster @, http://1stmarines.org/)
It is heartbreaking to see how many psychologists, behavioural scientists, grief counselors and psychiatrists are cashing-in on analyzing the suffering of America's fighting man. They matter-of-factly lecture their crafts and regurgitate what they have been taught in their fancy schools about aggression and fear hormones. They have teased apart the brains of lab rats with tantamount clinical detachment to be sure.
Taking the cake is one Ph.D. of Psychology and Research. Luxuriating in her pearlescent eye-shadow, she calmly describes the horror of combat for today's sacrificial lambs who are taught to think of themselves as wolves. What qualifies her to talk about such things? The Red Badge of Courage? As she smiles, basking in the focus of her videographer, they cut to scenes of a wounded Marine writhing on a helicopter litter as he is being med-evac'ed. With another lipstick smile she says, "You can't control what your body does during a traumatic or stressful event." Duh. No kidding. And what of those might she have known?
Then another brilliant comment from yet another cosmetically-assisted Dr. of Psychology, "It's okay if you're not okay." The Sgt. Major of the Marine Corps had this to say, "Get them help -- so we can get them back in the fight."
They wrap up this pep-talk with a corny song (Calling All Angels) and a quote from Rudyard Kipling, "The strength of the wolf is in the pack. And the strength of the pack is in the wolf." After watching the "film" you can send your comments to Director/Producer Norman Lloyd.
Clearly they are worried about another case of "maxed-out and pist-off." Traumatic stress is hard on the body and the spirit who is jailed for a term within. Pop some corn and gather 'round for this sure-fire Oscar pick. http://www.semperfifund.org/resources.html
Vietnam all over again, yes? You should read the freak postings of that faceless, nick-named nurse on one of the medical forums. He/she goes on about the field medicine practice opportunities in the blood-bath of Afghanistan. Oh how sweet it is to get the chance to saw somebody's leg off, right? Their stuff reads like a scene from Fangoria. Screw the Hippocratic Oath, let's just compare horror stories. The giddy, o'-so-delightful listings of goodies from the war zone include tales of battle wounds, exotic infections and other "fascinating accounts" of blood and guts.
I don't think these people are Angels in Green. They won't list their real names. I file them in the genre of the emergency medical technician who couldn't wait for his next ambulance ride so he could take Polaroids of the dead people from high-speed car crashes. Then trade them like baseball cards with his paramedic pals later in the snack room.
This long war, like Vietnam, is attracting vultures, ghouls, morgue freaks, opportunists and "dee-fence" contractors who are making a killing off of killing. In the mean time, Stateside, you have suicidal recruiters who are tired of telling lies and blowing hot smoke at high school boys.
There are legions of "professions" skimming more than their share off the war machine. The medical mania looks like a swarm of cat-eyed reef sharks tearing into fresh meat. They can't get there fast enough to rip off their piece of the action -- so they can brag about it. I just wanna slap them down. They shall never stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Navy corpsmen I have known. Never.
I have felt the jagged fingers of Lewis Puller, Jr., as he shook my hand from a wheelchair. He was an advising lawyer on the General's Staff back then. When he wheeled out from behind his desk, I was shocked. He was missing both legs from the hip. The
Marines in his Platoon told me that Puller stepped on a booby-trapped Howitzer shell. It was from these Marines that I learned the value of a corpsman. And the value of a man who is thrust into war on a half-asst whim. Sent back a fragment. And is expected to get on with his life. Puller gave it a shot. Gave it all he had. Then he shot himself. (photo from the handsome Webmaster @, http://1stmarines.org/)It is heartbreaking to see how many psychologists, behavioural scientists, grief counselors and psychiatrists are cashing-in on analyzing the suffering of America's fighting man. They matter-of-factly lecture their crafts and regurgitate what they have been taught in their fancy schools about aggression and fear hormones. They have teased apart the brains of lab rats with tantamount clinical detachment to be sure.
Taking the cake is one Ph.D. of Psychology and Research. Luxuriating in her pearlescent eye-shadow, she calmly describes the horror of combat for today's sacrificial lambs who are taught to think of themselves as wolves. What qualifies her to talk about such things? The Red Badge of Courage? As she smiles, basking in the focus of her videographer, they cut to scenes of a wounded Marine writhing on a helicopter litter as he is being med-evac'ed. With another lipstick smile she says, "You can't control what your body does during a traumatic or stressful event." Duh. No kidding. And what of those might she have known?
Then another brilliant comment from yet another cosmetically-assisted Dr. of Psychology, "It's okay if you're not okay." The Sgt. Major of the Marine Corps had this to say, "Get them help -- so we can get them back in the fight."
They wrap up this pep-talk with a corny song (Calling All Angels) and a quote from Rudyard Kipling, "The strength of the wolf is in the pack. And the strength of the pack is in the wolf." After watching the "film" you can send your comments to Director/Producer Norman Lloyd.
Clearly they are worried about another case of "maxed-out and pist-off." Traumatic stress is hard on the body and the spirit who is jailed for a term within. Pop some corn and gather 'round for this sure-fire Oscar pick. http://www.semperfifund.org/resources.html
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Dodi and Diana
Speaking of tracking devices, here's a thought. At the dealerships, to sell this invasion of privacy, they tell you that it is for "in case your car gets stolen." Once you drive off the lot, they don't care about your car. That's why you have insurance. You'll wreck it before it's stolen. A tracker is for tracking you.
If they want, they can listen to your cockpit. And you thought that "roadside assistance button" was just for the concierge or in case your wife has a flat? Dude, it's a built-in cell phone that works through your stereo speakers. It's like having an intercom between you and the network that pilots your car's computer. It is like talking on a speaker phone with stereo-quality sound. According to an employee from BMW's Assist Safety Plan, "We can hear a whisper on the back seat."
I phoned my car's "Roadside Assistance Button" people and one of them told me that the microphone was "near, in or behind" the rear-view mirror. Another one from the same company said that it was in the visor panel above the mirror. I called several dealerships across the country asking the same question. Each one told me a different story about the same car. One guy said the microphone was located within the bulky plastic housing of the rear-view mirror. A woman at another dealership told me that it was at the top of my steering wheel. Another dealer told me that it was behind plastic slits on either side of the mirror. They couldn't all be right.
So I went out to the car and investigated. To the left of the lighting panel, just above the mirror, I found a 2-inch by 1/2-inch rectangle of plastic slits. Not ideal for gathering ambient sound. An air vent for interior lighting seems more plausible.
There is a small, inconspicuous microphone on top of the steering column, just behind the wheel. It's right in your face, but you wouldn't see it unless you were looking for it. This is the microphone that works with Bluetooth. And perhaps also with their intercom button. But who can know for sure? Since they have discreetly placed a cell phone unit inside the dashboard and a GPS tracking unit with an antenna somewhere in the car. Nowhere in any of the manuals is this GPS tracking unit listed or discussed. You cannot locate it in your car. Just like the hidden cell phone. Does that define clandestine?
There are ten different manuals in the manual case. Why not just put it all in one book and list things in an alphabetical index? Isn't that the path of sanity? A house divided cannot stand. Perhaps that is why the manual is divided into ten parts. Imagine wrestling with all those on a road-trip.
Do we have an invisible passenger, listening quietly as we drive our cars? The technology to turn your car into high-ball audio surveillance is available to those with license (DHS, FBI, DIA, NSA, CIA, et alii). According to McGraw-Hill's Homeland Security Handbook, they have free rein to look up our skirt any time. Is roadside assistance like OnStar and BMW Assist just a pretext to spy on people?
Porsche makes the swankest roadster in the world. Their customers, from what I just learned, do not relish a Big Brother intercom in their cars. So Porsche doesn't give them one. Instead they give their customers a toll-free number to call that offers the same list of comforts, conveniences and help during an emergency. Fair enough. Anybody willing to pay that kind of money deserves their privacy -- is one way to look at it. Another is how most of the people who deem it is time to spy on us are probably driving a Porsche.
There's no peace of mind knowing that you can be bugged any time at the click of a mouse. I learned from my investigation that BMW Assist Safety folks can open a call and keep it open for as long as they want. The owner of the car is powerless to end the call. There is no way you can "hang up" a cell phone that lives inside your dashboard. The call is both initiated and terminated by some one sitting at a computer in a secret place. You have zero control over how it works. All you can do is "request" something and hope that a secret listener responds.
According to yet another car dealer, there is a fin inside my trunk that communicates with satellites. Which brings me to how a global positioning system is double-edged. It slices both ways, helping you navigate and keeping your government apprised of your travels at the same time. The "anti-theft" tracking device keeps you on the radar whether you have a navigational GPS or not.
Testing the system, I learned that the "specialists" who talk out of your stereo speakers seem to get nervous when you quiz them about how the technology works. I called their mother-ship with questions earlier. Once my focus became apparent, they hung up the phone. They have been schooled on what to tell people -- and what not to tell people.
If you lock your keys in the car, you can phone them and they will unlock it for you via this conduit. They can tell your car to unlock its doors, decelerate and run engine diagnostics from a computer m
ouse. What else can they tell it to do?
This casts Dodi and Diana's last ride in a new light. Over the last couple of weeks I have noticed the wheel jerking in my grip. It felt like somebody else was trying to steer my car with me at the wheel. Like they were testing a system to see if it worked. That is what it felt like. And is the express thought that occurred to me when it happened. I have not experienced this phenomena in any craft (sea, air or land). So it gave me pause.
I miss seeing a princess on the cover of grocery store magazines that now inundate us with lesser blondes. Making things look like an accident or suicide is less complicated than car bombs, I suppose. But car bombs support the "hate Muslims" campaign better. One gets to blame it on the Al Qaeda -- whoever they are. Has anybody ever seen those guys?
Keep in mind that technology considered novel to us has been in some one's belfry for decades. Things that we now use, may have been in use long before we were granted access. That seems to be the course of things. Also, much available on the Internet that you thought was put there for your convenience, I wager was put there for the convenience of those who put tracking devices in our cars -- and would like to put them in our bodies. They sure tracked Princess Diana and tapped into her phone calls. The same stuff they did to John Kennedy before they picked him off like a prize buck.
Privacy is gone. The white pages list every body's name, age, house-mates, and address complete with a road-map to your door. They will link you to other search engines that list every place you've ever lived. You can write some body's address in the Google search window and they will take you to their front door in a 360-degree surveyor's vista. You can even zoom in and take a closer look.
The only people exempt from this intrusion are Secret Service and other government agents. Why do you suppose that is? And why does Google send surveyors to your front door to take pictures of your house? Surveyors are in big demand right now, making the big money to map every dirt road in the woods. Why are dirt roads important now when they have never been important before?
Seems to me that somebody is interested in other people's property. Bless her heart, Princess Diana was treated like property. The last thing the Wizard wanted was to see her marry a Muslim chap -- unifying Islam and Christendom in great public celebration. Couldn't let that happen. It would make Muslims seem less like terrorists and more like prince charmings.
I realise that a car, plane or rocket can be remotely operated. Anything mechanical lends itself to remote control. There are worse ways to go than slamming into a stanchion at 100 mph. Ask the folks in Port-au-Prince. Unlike the glib and friendly lies on last night's Predicament of the Union Address, death is a guarantee we can all count on. Who wants to die of influenza and earthquakes? There are people in Haiti right now who envy Diana.
The web site below is the goods. Do not be dissuaded by their computer screen text span. That's only a ploy to tire your eyes and frustrate your mind. They hope you'll stop reading and go away. We live in an era of the psy-op. Ignore the psy-op and copy/paste what you want. The text is not for Joe Citizen. The site is designed for their corporate customers. Just print what you want to read. Then kick back and digest the facts along with your tea and biscuits. If you are curious about how your hidden GPS-tracker works, here's the tech. http://gpstrackit.com/
If they want, they can listen to your cockpit. And you thought that "roadside assistance button" was just for the concierge or in case your wife has a flat? Dude, it's a built-in cell phone that works through your stereo speakers. It's like having an intercom between you and the network that pilots your car's computer. It is like talking on a speaker phone with stereo-quality sound. According to an employee from BMW's Assist Safety Plan, "We can hear a whisper on the back seat."
I phoned my car's "Roadside Assistance Button" people and one of them told me that the microphone was "near, in or behind" the rear-view mirror. Another one from the same company said that it was in the visor panel above the mirror. I called several dealerships across the country asking the same question. Each one told me a different story about the same car. One guy said the microphone was located within the bulky plastic housing of the rear-view mirror. A woman at another dealership told me that it was at the top of my steering wheel. Another dealer told me that it was behind plastic slits on either side of the mirror. They couldn't all be right.
So I went out to the car and investigated. To the left of the lighting panel, just above the mirror, I found a 2-inch by 1/2-inch rectangle of plastic slits. Not ideal for gathering ambient sound. An air vent for interior lighting seems more plausible.
There is a small, inconspicuous microphone on top of the steering column, just behind the wheel. It's right in your face, but you wouldn't see it unless you were looking for it. This is the microphone that works with Bluetooth. And perhaps also with their intercom button. But who can know for sure? Since they have discreetly placed a cell phone unit inside the dashboard and a GPS tracking unit with an antenna somewhere in the car. Nowhere in any of the manuals is this GPS tracking unit listed or discussed. You cannot locate it in your car. Just like the hidden cell phone. Does that define clandestine?
There are ten different manuals in the manual case. Why not just put it all in one book and list things in an alphabetical index? Isn't that the path of sanity? A house divided cannot stand. Perhaps that is why the manual is divided into ten parts. Imagine wrestling with all those on a road-trip.
Do we have an invisible passenger, listening quietly as we drive our cars? The technology to turn your car into high-ball audio surveillance is available to those with license (DHS, FBI, DIA, NSA, CIA, et alii). According to McGraw-Hill's Homeland Security Handbook, they have free rein to look up our skirt any time. Is roadside assistance like OnStar and BMW Assist just a pretext to spy on people?
Porsche makes the swankest roadster in the world. Their customers, from what I just learned, do not relish a Big Brother intercom in their cars. So Porsche doesn't give them one. Instead they give their customers a toll-free number to call that offers the same list of comforts, conveniences and help during an emergency. Fair enough. Anybody willing to pay that kind of money deserves their privacy -- is one way to look at it. Another is how most of the people who deem it is time to spy on us are probably driving a Porsche.
There's no peace of mind knowing that you can be bugged any time at the click of a mouse. I learned from my investigation that BMW Assist Safety folks can open a call and keep it open for as long as they want. The owner of the car is powerless to end the call. There is no way you can "hang up" a cell phone that lives inside your dashboard. The call is both initiated and terminated by some one sitting at a computer in a secret place. You have zero control over how it works. All you can do is "request" something and hope that a secret listener responds.
According to yet another car dealer, there is a fin inside my trunk that communicates with satellites. Which brings me to how a global positioning system is double-edged. It slices both ways, helping you navigate and keeping your government apprised of your travels at the same time. The "anti-theft" tracking device keeps you on the radar whether you have a navigational GPS or not.
Testing the system, I learned that the "specialists" who talk out of your stereo speakers seem to get nervous when you quiz them about how the technology works. I called their mother-ship with questions earlier. Once my focus became apparent, they hung up the phone. They have been schooled on what to tell people -- and what not to tell people.
If you lock your keys in the car, you can phone them and they will unlock it for you via this conduit. They can tell your car to unlock its doors, decelerate and run engine diagnostics from a computer m
ouse. What else can they tell it to do?This casts Dodi and Diana's last ride in a new light. Over the last couple of weeks I have noticed the wheel jerking in my grip. It felt like somebody else was trying to steer my car with me at the wheel. Like they were testing a system to see if it worked. That is what it felt like. And is the express thought that occurred to me when it happened. I have not experienced this phenomena in any craft (sea, air or land). So it gave me pause.
I miss seeing a princess on the cover of grocery store magazines that now inundate us with lesser blondes. Making things look like an accident or suicide is less complicated than car bombs, I suppose. But car bombs support the "hate Muslims" campaign better. One gets to blame it on the Al Qaeda -- whoever they are. Has anybody ever seen those guys?
Keep in mind that technology considered novel to us has been in some one's belfry for decades. Things that we now use, may have been in use long before we were granted access. That seems to be the course of things. Also, much available on the Internet that you thought was put there for your convenience, I wager was put there for the convenience of those who put tracking devices in our cars -- and would like to put them in our bodies. They sure tracked Princess Diana and tapped into her phone calls. The same stuff they did to John Kennedy before they picked him off like a prize buck.
Privacy is gone. The white pages list every body's name, age, house-mates, and address complete with a road-map to your door. They will link you to other search engines that list every place you've ever lived. You can write some body's address in the Google search window and they will take you to their front door in a 360-degree surveyor's vista. You can even zoom in and take a closer look.
The only people exempt from this intrusion are Secret Service and other government agents. Why do you suppose that is? And why does Google send surveyors to your front door to take pictures of your house? Surveyors are in big demand right now, making the big money to map every dirt road in the woods. Why are dirt roads important now when they have never been important before?
Seems to me that somebody is interested in other people's property. Bless her heart, Princess Diana was treated like property. The last thing the Wizard wanted was to see her marry a Muslim chap -- unifying Islam and Christendom in great public celebration. Couldn't let that happen. It would make Muslims seem less like terrorists and more like prince charmings.
I realise that a car, plane or rocket can be remotely operated. Anything mechanical lends itself to remote control. There are worse ways to go than slamming into a stanchion at 100 mph. Ask the folks in Port-au-Prince. Unlike the glib and friendly lies on last night's Predicament of the Union Address, death is a guarantee we can all count on. Who wants to die of influenza and earthquakes? There are people in Haiti right now who envy Diana.
The web site below is the goods. Do not be dissuaded by their computer screen text span. That's only a ploy to tire your eyes and frustrate your mind. They hope you'll stop reading and go away. We live in an era of the psy-op. Ignore the psy-op and copy/paste what you want. The text is not for Joe Citizen. The site is designed for their corporate customers. Just print what you want to read. Then kick back and digest the facts along with your tea and biscuits. If you are curious about how your hidden GPS-tracker works, here's the tech. http://gpstrackit.com/
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