Friday, September 3, 2010

Let's send British Petroleum into the Fires of Hell.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

When you talk about British Petroleum you have to talk about the Bride of Dracula, the original noxious, bat cave, the Queen of England, also the head of the Black Nobility; or close enough. My favorite picture of this slithering reptile is when she goes around on Christmas Day or New Years and dispenses season’s greetings to the junkies and homeless on the street. After a heartfelt, “Merry Christmas!” and a brisk handshake, it’s on to the next affair of state, which usually involves a senior cabinet member porking his chauffeur.

When you talk about British Petroleum, you also have to talk about the true vampire elite, The Rothschilds. They employ the Chinese Boxes style of accounting and operations fronting. I remember that photo of Warren Buffet, the mere piker of an investment entrepreneur from America, standing with Schwarzenegger and Jacob Rothschild prior to his investiture as Governor of California.

Not a day goes by when I don’t hear about British Petroleum doing something they are not supposed to do, denying it, being caught at it and… not a damn thing being done. They continue to pour Corexit into The Gulf at night, to keep the oil from the surface, or whatever the intricacies are, in order to avoid having to pay for their evil actions, which will inevitably lead to the deaths of thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands; who knows?

All during the catastrophe in the Gulf of Mexico, private security and public police forces, were employed by British Petroleum, to keep American citizens off of their own property on behalf of a foreign multi-national. They were threatened with jail and fines based on no existing laws that I know of besides the, “I have a gun and you don’t” law, which is a little like the Texas, “sumbitch needed killing law” but not really.

That jumped up pimp in the White House has been crying out behind the rodgering extended by BP to give it to him, “harder, faster and deeper”, in simulation of BP’s actual intentions and activities in The Gulf of Mexico, which seems to have resulted in at least one piece of good news. It might have affected a planned attack on Iran; delayed it more likely.

The control of the corporations is now official; it became official when the Supreme Court declared that it was perfectly legal for them to purchase the presidency or any other political office they desired. It became even more official when BP demanded that the American Government, sworn into office to represent the best interests of the citizens, immediately represent the interests of a pack of nationless scoundrels and get out there and lie like a Southern Baptist preacher about swimming safety; tasty and nutritious fish, cool healing rains and a chick at your door with a bag of pot. I think I got that last homily wrong. It might not even be a homily.

They said you should be catching and eating that fish because the government guarantees that its Long John Silver approved, except if anything goes wrong it’s your fault. People are finding chemicals in their swimming pools that are doing things to their skin. How did it get into their swimming pools? The same way it’s getting everywhere else. There’s no mention in the Zionist owned media about the terrible conditions that are manifesting down on the bayou because they are in the same club with The Rothschilds and the Queen and all the rest of the vicious, bloodthirsty pirates who run most of the show or... for the moment, as far as they know.

I want British Petroleum destroyed. I want it broken up into pieces and parceled out and sold and every dime sent in the direction of their victims. I want a tornado to pick up a house in Kansas or Kensington and drop it on the head of the Queen of England, while she’s wearing one of her stupid hats. I want a wooden stake driven through the heart of every Rothschild on the planet and I want to see the smoke curl, while the body bursts into flames and the jaw cracks open and the darkness screams from the mouth, as it rises above the stinking corpse and carries whatever residue is masquerading as a soul right down to the lowest bowels of Hell. I want all those blood stained clowns that assisted in this affair turned over to a howling mob of enraged fisher folk so that they can be used for bait or to chum the waters of the Gulf in case there are any fish left that want a piece of the action.

On behalf of this I am offering a visualization which should be directed at British Petroleum. You start with a BP logo and you imagine that it is the vibrational matrix of the physical integrity that holds the company together. You imagine the entire logo to be composed of something like ping pong balls held together by the magnetic glue of unbridled greed and you imagine the power of the collective Love of decent people, melting that glue with a sound like bacon frying on a griddle. The ping pong balls separate, burst into flames and the logo breaks apart as you directly see that all the physical assets of the company are breaking apart as well, except for those critical features that, by some serendipitous accident, actually protect well heads and so on and so forth. You see huge mountains of cash burning like an enormous garbage dump outside of Manila. You see this as the assets of BP and you keep saying all through it all, “BP is finished. BP is destroyed. Make it happen. Make it real. Make it happen right now, right here.”

Next you move on to the Queen of England and The Rothschilds, lined up like sardines in a can and you imagine the main demons of Hell reaching up from the ground, with hands of fire and pulling them down into the pit. You see them reaching out in all directions and grabbing their accomplices as they go. These accomplices grab other accomplices and you see the whole connected train of them being sucked down into the darkness of their own being, which is the original basis of Hell, as a self created destiny forged from individual acts. You affirm in your certain knowledge that this is an inescapable reality and you applaud and confirm it as the will of the universe, acting on the behalf of all life contained within it.

If this doesn’t work for you because you are some kind of a weak sister who thinks that Love has thin arms and might have the vapors at any moment, after which it falls into Fabio’s arms on the cover of a romance novel, then I want you to think of those sea creatures covered in that black death; turtles, dolphins, pelicans, manatees, all manner of birds and fishes and common working people, who are dying as you read this and being told it’s not because of BP and that it is certainly their own damn fault for coincidentally catching something that is, no doubt due to their being stupid enough to believe anything they are told. I want you to think of the compounds created by benzene, Corexit, methane and all the rest and understand that this was all brought about for the single purpose of hiding the extent of the crime, while having no concern at all for the collateral damage made a thousand times worse, because these evil beings were trying to shave dollars off of what they might be compelled to pay.

If a few hundred or several thousand of us try to remember to do this every day, when it is noon and six PM in New York City, I am pretty sure they are going to be feeling it. This is why the police attacked the people who were attempting to hold hands and encircle the Pentagon in order to levitate it. The one mind is all powerful. Physicists have already proven that the universe is thought born. Don’t think they don’t know about this kind of thing. They have people practicing it on you at all times. Remember to visualize a mirror alongside your head that reflects back everything the governments and black ops from any location or dimension are radiating out on any given day. That mirror sends their focused vibrations back at them. You make that automatic and autonomously operative.

Let each of us affirm that BP has the corporate form of bone cancer and that it is 100% terminal. Let’s accept it as a reality that is seeking its own end, even faster than we are. Let us accept it, as if it were one of our own hands in front of our face that everyone involved in this unspeakable crime against humanity and Nature, are inexorably and with all possible speed, being confronted with and punished for their crimes. Close your imaging with a sense of clean sea air and calm optimism; frolicking laughing dolphins and sea birds aloft in a cloudless azure sky, which you just realized you haven’t seen in a long time and shake your head and say, “Something dark and evil isn’t here any more. I can feel it”. Believe it. Know it. Let it go and do its work, secure in knowing it’s done.


End Transmission.......

Visible sings: Songwriter by Les Visible♫ Rocket Ship ♫
'Rocket Ship' is track no. 7 of 10 on Visible's 2006 album 'Songwriter'
Lyrics (pops up)

Songwriter by Les Visible

Smoking Mirrors Mirror.



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The3rdElf
The 3rd Elf