Saturday, June 24, 2017

The Metaphor of the Whore from the Sidewalks to the Editors Suite.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Apparently we're not going to hear about it from that poisoned well of engineered murder and mayhem, The New York Times; dead is dead, whether it come by the sword or by the pen and when it comes to making the dead dead and recording the means and manner of transmuting the living into the dead, the pen is certainly mightier than the sword. On the one hand they are as ruthless as Tamerlane, who used to put the defeated armies of men, while still alive, into concrete walls, where they might scream and cry and moan until the breath had left their bodies. I suppose it might be nice, in this moment, to reflect on whatever surviving relatives there might have been, slipping in by cover of night to bring them some water and food. You could be certain if The Times had been extant at the time, some variant on Judith Miller would have been around to report on it. As I scan articles about Tamerlane, I can't find any mention of his embedding (not the same as embedded reporters) the soldiers in these huge walls. Maybe Judith Harris has been back in the archives recently for that very purpose. The longer history hangs around, the less it resembles anything close to whatever really took place.

This brings me to the front page of The Truthseeker, where you see article after article about Syria and Iraq, drones, Russia and that fine and noble icon of America's shining knights in white armor, defending the weak at home and abroad. The strong, the proud, the brave, sacrificing themselves as canon fodder on the bloody altar of Israel's right to plunder and kill and maim all who stand in her way.

Somewhere, out there in the electric mist, there is a single dead man walking. He is in the future so his outline is not clear. The image comes in and out of view like a sputtering hologram. He is in the future but he is dressed in an outfit from the past. He looks something like this, except he is wearing a Keffiyeh perhaps; whatever the necessary outfit needs to be, as the Judith Miller's of the world swarm up from the desert floor like locusts.

The international banks own the governments; the governments that are in place and the governments that are coming and going. They own them through the multitude of forces that can be applied through manufactured debt. The debt is created out of thin air, just like the currency. Those who control the printing presses appear to control the world. There are the printing presses that create the false news that broadcasts hysteria into the minds of the fearful and confused, who are subject to the power of appearances. It is the power of what appears to be. The printing presses that print the money pay the people who run the presses that manufacture the information that tells us what is and what is not. They pay the armies that march on the cities and bomb the countryside, so that more debt can be created. They pay the police that protect the interests of the people that control the printing presses that create the debt that enslaves the populations of the world. There are the slavers and the enslaved. At one time the slaves wore visible shackles that kept them in line; that kept them from running away. Now the slaves wear invisible shackles. They are no less slaves simply because the shackles can no longer be seen.

Another analogy that can be applied is... let me rename and segue into another definition of the concept as we extend it into yet another area, another tier on the pyramid... let's call it the Metaphor of the Whore . It's all taking place in the facsimile of some present day Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar had something to do with it I guess and I have no idea what took place in the thousand years that slipped by between Hammurabi and Nebuchadnezzar. Hammurabi came up with some kind of a code of laws which I think might have been given to him on stone tablets by agents of whatever banks were around at the time. Stone tablets... printing presses... laser and 3D printers... the technology gets more impressive as time passes and the occasions arise, now and again when those who control the technologies and what the technologies get applied to need to make a demonstration of what they got for the benefit of certain others, like they did on 9/11. 9/11 was a demonstration for the benefit or to the detriment of whomever the demonstration was directed toward by those making the statement.

So... in the Metaphor of the Whore, there is no difference between an actual whore on the sidewalk and a reporter that works for the New York Times or any of the other lie mills that construct the information that colors our day and defines it according to the meaning and impact of the false information that was created precisely to color your world and thereby influence your thoughts and your feelings.

We write these blog postings to comment on what we see and what we cannot see but which we imagine is taking place somewhere, or is being imagined prior to being put into the hands of the architects and draftsmen. We've also got a holographic projection device, where the image sputters in and out of view. We can't see clearly. We wish we could see more clearly but we cannot. Lacking a greater clarity of vision, we are forced to take the recorded thoughts and image descriptions given to us by those whose wisdom and insight far exceed our own. We have to depend on the outlines and conclusions given to us by those we admire.

We believe in a divine being whose composition and consciousness pervades the universe. We believe that the entire universe is the body of God and that is hums along in sequences, from one to the next. The vibrations, the sounds, change and immediately the character and content of existence change as well. There is some purpose and point to all of this changing in sequence. There is some grand objective being played out in sequences but I cannot tell you what it is. I can tell you that somehow it is connected to the sequencing of awareness through us one and all ...that at some point our level of awareness comes into sync with the grand objective. For me, sooner, rather than later, is the critical thing because the only things that takes place on the way to the syncing up with the grand objective is... suffering. It is suffering that attends our movements from one stage of awareness to the next.

Those who control the banks and... therefore control the printing presses and the governments and the press and the armies and the police, prosper and feed off of the general suffering. You might say that suffering is simply a byproduct of their means to an end but... the seeds turn into the stalks of wheat that turn into the grain that turns into the bread that contains the sandwich which is consumed by the person eating it and so they are consuming the seeds and the stalks and the grain and the bread and the sandwiches contents. It's all parts of the whole and the effect of the whole upon any of us has to do with our level of awareness and what that awareness does with the information we process in and out of it.

There are so many ironies and strange yet nearly exact numbers that express themselves in bizarre similarities and dissimilarities. 50,000 men died at Gettysburg over the course of 3 days. 50,000 Americans died in Vietnam over the course of a much longer time... years. We don't really know how long the war lasted for America since war was never declared. That means it wasn't a war after all but only a conflict.

They say 2,000,000 Vietnamese died. Those numbers aren't important to most of us. They say that stress is the leading cause of the 6 major killers, like cancer, heart disease, accidents, respiratory disorders, cirrhosis and suicide. You wouldn't think those last two would even be on the list, would you? They are on the NCBI and NIH lists. If you observe the modern world you can see the cars and trucks coming and going from the liquor stores and cocktail lounges to the living rooms and the patios and you can see the poisoned nectar of the Devil's Brew, flowing down the throats of the free range suicides because... yes, that is a form of suicide. There are two major reasons I know of for this, though, of course there are more... but, of these two, one of the reasons is to forget and the other is the pursuit of freedom. We drink to forget what we do not want to remember and we drink to loosen ourselves up out of the confinements of our constricted self which state is generated by the bankers and their manufactured debt. Everything seems to move in tight little circles. In approaching death it is not uncommon for one to retract into the fetal posture.

There goes your life. It was all a dream. It was a dream that was directed by those manipulating the conditions of the dream for their profit here in the manifest but not extending even a fraction of a millimeter beyond. In truth the borders and boundaries of the dream, the contents of the dream and all the conditions that came to pass in the dream is what occurs on the playing field of God's Lila. The bankers are just a past of the dream and have no power but what we give them in our desire to prosper and maintain ourselves here at a particular level. The truth is that we will have or lack all that we have or lack in accordance with our tenets of our karma, with the exception of what might come to us through Grace and Grace is the fruit of a sincere love of the ineffable that touches the ineffable and provokes Grace to express itself.

Any problem you have... the ineffable has the solution. Any difficulty there may be, the ineffable has the answer to it. Any life condition is in the ineffable's hands. Anything you want, or think you want, the ineffable is in possession of it. The ineffable can materialize anything at any time. Desire for yourself that which pleases the ineffable. Desire the ineffable above everything else. Love the ineffable and Love one another as the ineffable loves you. Everything else will fall into place and it is only our resistance to the will of the ineffable that stands in the way of all the beautiful and impossible to describe, or even imagine... blessings that the ineffable has stored up for those who love the ineffable. It is a very simple thing. Make it the hallmark of your existence and let the past... pass.

End Transmission.......