"Like Lao Tzu said; “Those who Lose after almost winning, should have known the end from the beginning.”"

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

So... Tucker Carlson left Fox. Jerry Springer left his body. Hopefully... one day soon... Materialism will fold up its tent and leave town for The Shady Glades Crematorium. Jerry Springer had a private cancer. All I could think of was paraphrasing that Tina Turner song; ♫ private cancer... cancer for money... yadda... yaddadahda... ♫ They want you to donate to the Pancreatic Cancer Survival Fund so that the business end of Cancer never has to suffer a cure.

Cancer is one of the biggest and least funny jokes in a very funny (not hah hah funny) time in The World. There have been cures left... right... and sideways for some time, but then they kill the doctor or medical researcher who came up with it. I'd like to keep with the tradition of not speaking evil of The Dead (if there is such a thing) which means there really is no more to say about Jerry Springer.

Death's a myth. Suffering is not. People have been coming and going here for a long time. That's cause Time has a lot to do with the illusion of Death. Time and Death are both illusions but they are fairly solid illusions based on the concept of separation. Time is Eternity separated into increments. Death is a life portal. Life is a death portal.

I've run out of mysteries. There is only what I think I know and what I don't know. There are no mysteries. Is that a mystery to you? God is real. Everything else is a momentary form in The Dream Web, composed of the same substance as The Web itself.

All webs have a spider. The Spider is your cannibal mind, spinning endless tales formed of crystallized desire. They melt away. Desire forms another. It melts away. Desire forms another. It's up to you what your desire forms. That's The Good News. That's The Bad News. Either you know this or you don't want to know this. Confusion is the middle ground, often overflowing the known and unknown.

What I am talking about here... cannot be talked about with any real or lasting coherency. It simply is. Everything else is not. This makes perfect sense to the few people who already know it, and it makes no sense to the people who don't want to know it. They still have plans. Heh heh.

I said I would talk about Tucker Carlson, BUT... what am I going to say? He's an actor. We're all actors on the stage of the moment in a role that was chosen beforehand. None of these roles matter. The only role that matters is the role of the unidentified Mysterious Stranger. Eventually... maybe... you get to be The Mysterious Stranger. Until that happens, everything else is playing Blind Man's Wack-a-Mole.

You're here for a while, wearing a time-sensitive mask. Then you're gone for a while until you get another time-sensitive mask. Across a reach of immense time, your masks get thinner and thinner until it disappears, and no one who is dreaming can see you... unless you want them to OR... that process goes in reverse.

It depends on where you think you are headed. It depends on who you think you are, given that you thought yourself into being in the first place; maybe not originally, BUT... after that... on the long road home... after that.

I don't know Tucker Carlson. I don't watch him very much. That's no judgment on Tucker. I don't watch anyone very much. Often... people will say to me; “you know so and so?” Actually, I don't. Most of the people I get asked about I never heard of... because I don't follow much of what goes on out there. You might find that a bit perplexing; “then how do you manage to talk about all these different things?”

Well... it's a gift. It's like I can't control it. (grin) Honestly, a great deal of the time I don't know who these people are that I get asked about.

I didn't like Tucker originally. The bow tie prop and the shtick were all a sorta quasi William F. Buckley profile. It's a similar progression from Dick Clark to Ryan Seacrest, with no loss in vapidity. I was always expecting him to start leaning back in his chair and talking like Katherine Hepburn. He comes out of that same liberal arts, private school background; wanted to join the CIA, but... likely didn't know better at the time.

So... initially... I wasn't fond of him. I can't remember being fond of anyone in The Media. Talking heads make me want to change the channel. Then I ran out of channels. They hate him over at The Atlantic. That speaks well of him. Still... there's that whole controlled opposition thing.

He believes in God. At least he says he does, and that's Big Media suicide. That puts him a cut above the rest. He speaks of the spiritual war going on. He started talking more and more about spiritual things. Rupert Murdoch is a Satanist and the one thing he really can't stand is people talking about God. I suspect that was the real reason for the limbo bag they wrapped Tucker in. He isn't fired. He's in limbo-space.

I had the same thing happen to me though I was playing in a much smaller arena. I used to keep God's mention at a certain percentage, and... I was on all the major alt-news sites. I went over the acceptable percentage and... whoops! I was gone. It's like the word went out on some magic drum circle telegraph.

I said Murdoch is a Satanist. If it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck. Well... I don't know if he attends a black mass every now and then. You don't have to get the membership card to be a member. Your lifestyle confers it on you.

If you want to know why Tucker is gone, it's because of The God Thing. You'll hear that it's complicated, and the result of a number of factors, but... it's The God Thing.

I got to like Tucker. I could see that some of my invisible friends were trying to talk through him, and... as he permitted it, it happened more and more. I still didn't listen to him much because I don't listen to anyone in The Media much. I mostly listen to the inner voice. Otherwise... I get bored. I lose interest. I'd rather listen to The Sun... Lady Nature... this or that Divine Step-Down Transformer; God in any number of his innumerable disguises.

Eventually, you get to be The Mysterious Stranger when you've had it with The Circus, and don't hunger to be one of the acts anymore. When money and carnal sex... power... security... fame and the lot, no longer intrigue and attract you, you get to go and play among the stars. You don't get rid of Desire. You reroute it. After that... it all takes care of itself.

Then you get real money... real sex... real power... real security... real fame.

Tucker is on his way to bigger things. He'd better watch out. Still... he has the courage of his convictions, and... he's got some invisible friends. I hope he keeps listening. I don't know what The Divine has in mind for him. The drops get steeper as the road takes you higher.

He needs to note the dangers there... lurking in the wheels within wheels of Byzantine deception. He needs to go like a Jesuit with a Sun Tzu transfusion. The biggest danger at this point... always... is Pride.

You notice how the captive catamite choir all sing about Diversity now? Diversity is the death of the culture. Pride? Pride is another kind of Death. It's the long way around through The Valley of The Shadows.

Fortunately for Tucker and quite a few other people, the wind is changing. You got to watch out though. It's like catching a wave. The same wave that brings you in clean to the shore, will crash you into the tumult if you hit it wrong. It's all about timing. It's about paying attention, and when your focus is on self-interest, a... lot... of... things... can... go... wrong.

Well... like Lao Tzu said; “Those who lose after almost winning, should have known the end from the beginning.” It's been going on for a long time now and the villains have gotten supremely confident, Schwab and Soros didn't come out of the shadows until God (disguised as The Devil) convinced them it was in The Bag.

Sooner or later now, they'll be up in the spotlight for their grand moment, when they will promptly soil themselves upon command. It's all for The Purpose of Demonstration. It always is. The only difference this time around is that this... is an apocalypse.

End Transmission.......

I forgot to put this in the post. Boy! Don't you wish people would say these things about you?

Some links are at GAB=

"The Dancing Sugar Plum Fairies are All Obese. They are Like Chocolate Thunder-Tucked Lizzo's in Elephantine Distress."

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

My head is heavy. The dancing sugar plum... drag-queen fairies are all obese. They are like chocolate thunder-tucked Lizzo's in elephantine distress. The floorboards that shield the self-conscious mind from the terrors of the subconscious are not rated for this kind of weight.

Like sodden, vaccine-death floaters pulled from poisonous lakes; Lovecraftian monsters whose names can only be written in Cyrillic script, wink at me like zombie hookers from beneath the surface. I remember well... when Frodo... in a hypnotic stupor... fell into The Dead Marshes.

The God of Materialism looks like Jabba The Hutt except not so comely and graceful. The Sugar Plum Fatties dance before him like doves before a cobra, except it is a certainty these doves cannot fly. It is a sad thing to see a culture fall so abruptly and ignominiously.

You can lead a whore-to-culture but you can't make her think.

Materialism. It's not what's for dinner because... in the advanced states of Materialism, you... are... what's... for... dinner. It's bread and circuses... 24-7... with fast food celebrities rolling across the windshield of the car humming on the concrete blocks... going nowhere, like revolving tin ducks at a carnival shooting gallery; go ahead and confuse it with that other kind of shooting gallery.

These celebrities are the ones who keep the brainless in formation. The brainless... you could call them The Mindless... are a huge demographic of millions... hundreds of millions around The World... that allows The Deep State; Globoctopus to reach its tentacles everywhere because The Stupid... who are also the brainless... who are also The Mindless... are the fastest growing demographic on Earth.

The only collective as rapidly increasing as they are... are the people who don't know what sex they are and will sleep with anything breathing or dead, in... their... imaginations. The Grand Guignol is a reality. Hellraiser is the new Disneyland. It has its own cable television network with simulacrum shows that mimic the indigestible shit on the other channels with slight differences.

Their version of Pimp My Ride involves elementary school children with backstage mommies, and... you can guess at the content. I'm not going to tell you. It's like “Cuties” on Pornhub.

Recently... I have been trying to understand why I am feeling the tremors of having been somewhere before... like deja-vu all over again. I can hear ♫ Where or When ♫ playing in the back of my head. It's on some kind of looping playlist with ♫ You Belong to Me ♫ and a whole lot of other nostalgia tunes that should have been on the soundtrack for “Angel Heart.”

I get these strange sensations every time I go to a news site; be it to The Left... The Right... The Center or somewhere in the bleachers. This sensation tells me that everything comes from the same place where they make canned laughter. Is there no one telling the truth? I know there are some but they are all on The Slow Highway.

See... on the internet there are different highways. They move at different speeds, and... in some cases, they don't move at all. I am very familiar with these highways because I can see them going by from the concertina-wired margins where I reside. I am not unhappy here. Do not get that impression. I could either care less... or actually prefer it. I have the readers I am supposed to have and I don't need more. I used to have tens of thousands of readers per posting.

It wasn't much different than it is now. It was just noisier with a greater percentage of trolls. A few thousand visits a post now... suits me just fine. I'm not complaining. I have no ambition to be a name presence; wouldn't that conflict with my message of impersonality?

I'm finding it hard to believe that there is ANY media left that can be trusted at all. Fortunately, I get my news from within. Still... I get the eerie sense that ALL of the major sites from every point on the spectrum are state-processed vomitoriums. Yes... this is old news; “Jesus, Vis... don't you know this by now?” Yes... I do, but I mean it is even more controlled than I thought it was.

Yes, it's controlled from The Act of Creation giddy-up and there is only one thing I can do... in all the possibilities of action... there is only one thing I can do, and that... is to choose the direction the road takes me in. AND... from what I can see... at this point on the way... that means... for me... a disappearing act from The Truman Show, once my part in the affair has concluded. It's all I could ask for, so I am not disappointed.

The Tucker Carlson.... great misdirection... Deep State scam... over Dominion's election fraud antics is a marvel to behold. This is where The Stupids in their Wide-Load Jeans come in. This is what composes the crowd... the really large crowd around the Three-Card-Monte tables on the boardwalk. These are the people at the Taylor not-so-Swift concerts... at the professional sports stadiums... those watching the pay-per-view troglodytes hammer each other... and the millions jerking off to porn while eating bad pizza...

“Who ordered the 3-cheese, sliced hog-nostril combo with the blood-sausage crust?”

Apparently when you add them up with the cos-players and social media junkies... the humping Furries... the celebrity stargazers, AND... the double-latte decaf crowd; all those people with appetites seeking the impossible of a lasting satiation, well... that comes to a whole lot of people.

I guess I'm saying... in a roundabout way, that it is possible to get mesmerized by the cultural implosion taking place; all the fireworks and programmed earbuds; body parts jiggling in Spandex, and... you can forget that you are standing right there. You need to remember that when the electricity starts dancing off of the stage props and speakers, and the lead singer fries, and... the crowd panics; and... they... will... they are going to stampede in certain directions that you had best not be standing in the way of.

Now... the people who need to hear this will never hear this. They are going to go right on believing that there is some kind of a point to it all, AND... that eventually all their wishing and hoping in one hand is going to alchemically transform all the shit that built up in the other hand... into something... something... something.

All the people who think they are in control are under control, and even when conditions and events get completely out of control, they will still be under control. However; location... location... location... it's going to be very important to you; not so much where you are standing but where your heart and mind are located because that will determine where you are standing.

If the overwhelming noise of The World is all you can hear, you will not be able to see the angels indicating the exits... at a time when mixed metaphors actually mean something. You will not hear. You will not see, what is really taking place because you are in The Land of Dreams; that amusement park of The Mind, where the face over The Tunnel of Love is the face of The Thresher.

All the noise and the lights... the dancing morons on stage... the supermarket aisles... The World of convenience and accessibility is going to be no longer convenient or accessible, and it can happen... (snap!) like that.

It's not something coming out of nowhere with no warning at all. The Klaxons have been going off for years. You just can't hear them. It's like the jackhammers in the street in New York City. It's called... accommodation. You got accommodated to something, and... as the noise level rose... you accommodated to that, and to that... and to that.

I realize that I am preaching to The Choir here. Still... better that than nothing at all. Silence and Stillness will come in due time after the gates of The Sanctuary open... and close.

Love opens things
So love would hurt as much as heal
It would hurt first

Real love-
It would confuse, disarm, weaken and destroy
Everything in its way
Everything that was, in fact,
A part of you
That would conceal
Real love

Real love lasts forever
We do not last as long
UNTIL we become
real love

Real love has come to town
Six gun blazing in a town full of lies
Now is the showdown
The duel in the street
Real love is the only one left standing

Real love rides alone
Squints out of one good eye
Nails the coffin shut
Nothing got out alive but...
real love

Real love is going to make you cry
Make it worse before it gets better
Tear you up inside

Real love-
Who would want such a thing?
It takes the atmosphere away
Breaks all your toys
Burns down your house
And steals your car
But you’re not going very far
Anyway

Real love has got its hands on you
Burns from the inside out
Nothing left

Nothing but wide prairie
And huge commanding stars

You’ve never been so alone
You’ve never been so complete

Outside this golden ring of sanctuary
The cities burn forever

And you can never fall asleep
Again...

Real Love

End Transmission.......

Someone told me that a writer from Taki-Mag comes around here. I wonder if that is the same thing as when I ran into a journalist from Pravda and he told me Putin read Smoking Mirrors. I never heard any more about it. Anyway... Taki-Mag is one of the most amusing and entertaining sites on the internet. Kind of like Spy Magazine was. They're not much concerned about The Higher Planes there, but... they do make me laugh.

Some links are to be found at GAB=

"Mr. Apocalypse and Lady Awakening are The Cosmic Tag-Team Champions in The Faraday Cage Match; Live and in Person."

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Some are Idealists and some are Naturalists. Some see The Inside and some see The Outside; as a matter of disposition... as an innate tendency. Some are outgoing and some are internalized. Some of us have a glass half-full, and for some... the glass is half-empty, but... everyone has a glass.

Life just keeps on going; creating glasses, maintaining glasses for the term of the glass, and recycling the glass when the time comes. In Times of Material Darkness, glasses are more often dirty and opaque rather than clean and transparent.

It's a strange affair in the mind of the impartial observer; not that you are likely to find too many impartial observers. When The World is rushing past in a perpetually driven frenzy, it's not easy to hold still and watch. What did Satchel Page say? “Don't look back. Someone might be gaining on you.”

For those who can arrest the process or... as the case may be... allow the process to go right by them, and not get tangled in the whirling fishhooks of the invisible dancers... the sight is truly something to behold. AND... if you get really good at it, the time-lapse perspective becomes a possibility and you can see life evolving and devolving simultaneously, right... before... your... eyes.

As people become more immersed in Material Culture, they begin to regress. When appetite becomes the driving force, the bestial nature is fed. Anything that you feed is going to grow, and it will grow to a point where it eats you too. This is how you get a monkey on your back.

On a positive note... when Material Culture gets really powerful... and a disciplined soul is able to detach from it... due to the degree of difficulty... one can pick up a tailwind of primal force. This is where your quantum leaps in consciousness come into play.

There are times when Focus and Intention are everything. Centuries... millennia... an entire age might hang in the balance, and... when it comes to the truth... all angles are oblique. The Truth is at right angles to everything else. This is why you can't speak directly concerning it. Part of that is the matter of varying perspectives.

You might could discuss the truth with yourself, and... get what you are talking about, even if no one else did, BUT... when you bring another into the conversation; silence is often the only effective medium of transmission; comme si, comme sa... neti-neti... maybe this... maybe that... I don't know.

Besides the profiteering aspects of Climate Change and their armies of cannon fodder with two left feet, marching in ever-tightening circles on the way to The Land of the Wiffenpoof, climate, and location certainly does account for many strange variables.

People are observably different in different locations. America's a big country and customs may vary. I think I would be correct in saying that certain events and conditions are more likely to occur in New York City than in Salt Lake City... but for some strange reason(s) similar pathologies are appearing everywhere these days.

It's got to be some kind of pressure; something a barometer might provide insight into, BUT... not the usual barometer... because we are talking about a different kind of weather. We are talking about mental and emotional weather; spiritual weather.

We've gone into this before; coming from over there, and now we are coming from over here. This pressure is ubiquitous. Some people can handle it and many people cannot. If you don't have an anchor you are likely to be swept away, and... maybe that's the point. The Pressure is no respecter of person. It is as likely to hit a schoolteacher as it is The Dali Lama.

We're going to have to use some links. You already know about The Dali Lama and the tongue-sucking episode. You know about the strange things The Pope is saying about Tinder and sundry. You already know about Biden wanting to lick The World. Now we have this strange event in Washington State, where The Climate is decidedly different.

I've seen at least half-a-dozen similar perversities. If you scroll the headlines at this site, or you travel to this site, and if you work your way down the page at both locations... you are going to see all manner of strange shit. If you want to see what's happening street-side, you can just head over to Clown World at Twitter or any number of similar locations, BUT... you might wish that you hadn't.

Then there's the Sadhguru at The WEF.

There's a serious disconnect here that speaks to strange agendas, given this guy is supposed to be some sort of divine spokesman. I'll let you figure out... what it is about this that does not make sense.

Many powerful individuals are being publicly exposed as something other than what they present themselves as. It might not be easy for the general public to see it, but it is super easy for me. I may not know the details, but... I can tell by the smell that there are dead bodies around... even if I can't see them. It seems like everybody wants to be a rockstar... or everybody wants to be a player in the courts of power, EVEN WHEN THEY ARE ALREADY POWERFUL.

The missing feature here is... Mr. Apocalypse and Lady Awakening, the cosmic tag-team champions in The Faraday Cage Match; Live and in Person.

Mr. Apocalypse and Lady Awakening are the sources of The Pressure we have been speaking about. Pressure, once it gets to a certain level of intensity, (and that differs case-by-case) causes unpredictable behavior, and... that is happening around The World at this time. We are in early days concerning how truly wack it is going to get. Certain real catastrophes that none of these fools are expecting are on The Menu.

All of these events taking place are taking place by Cosmic Design. It may make no sense at the moment, but it will... eventually. There is... at work here... what I call The Out-on-a-Limb condition. It is similar to Pride going before a fall. It is what happens when Ambition and Hubris get a room in your head. You can't see straight anymore and you also can't tell that it's happening because... you can't see straight.

Deserving individuals are getting the Out-on-a-Limb treatment, and then a hand is going to come out of a cloud and hand them a saw. It's crystal clear to me. I don't know how many other people are seeing this, but I know there's got to be a few because I am not The Lone Ranger.

I don't know about this Sadhguru fellow. I've no attraction to him, but that is generally the case for me with any of them these days. Frank Report does a remarkably detached and impartially objective article on him.

He could be a spy from Heaven in the chambers of The Wicked; IN ANY CASE... expect strange and astonishing occurrences to become commonplace sooner rather than later. I can see them stacking up in The Event Horizon.

There are lines around the block of people hoping to rule The World. It's one of the reasons that no one ever does, at least not from that side of things. Anyone who can rule themselves will already be ruling The World, or... appear to be, the way a conductor leads an orchestra. Do they really need a conductor? Don't they have lead sheets? You know what I mean, I hope.

Something remarkable happens when you are no longer involved in making things happen; when you can step back and let the whole of it flow around you, while the author of it all flows through you. It's not possible to describe what this is like, but there's nothing else like it. Why so many people want to play God simply mystifies me. They already are God-performing badly. You can be God just as soon as you stop trying to be God.

The Cosmic Heavyweights... The Great Companions... have been here for longer than there are years to measure it with. No one is going to come out of the woodwork and grab a spot, it... is... by... invitation... only. It is as if there is an aperture with precise dimensions and you cannot pass through this portal until you can precisely fit those dimensions.

End Transmission.......

A few links are available at GAB=

"This is a- Time- of- Transition- to a New State of Consciousness. Some Will Make The Grade and Many Will Choose Not To."

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Trains derailing, dairies blowing up, mass shootings, concerted efforts to destroy the family unit, and secret documents on Ukraine that show The West and The Bankers are lying. It's like Saturday night downtown in Whistleblower City. Violent flash mobs of deranged youths are overrunning Chicago, where they (by deception) elected someone even worse than Lightfoot.

Who is doing all of this? The Global Deep State or... their agents and affiliates are doing it. The ones who inspire The Dark Side in Humanity have been working for centuries as Powers and Principalities on The Invisible Plane. With The Advent of The Avatar, they are being pushed downward into manifestation, where they are to be dealt with.

It is similar to what has been happening in Ukraine. The Ukrainian Army has been near totally destroyed, as the new documents we weren't supposed to see have been indicating. Now... more bodies... more cannon fodder, are being tossed into The Thresher, where they will be mulched into compost for The Present Sowing that leads to The Future Reaping... ad infinitum.

The UN, which is an abbreviation for The Unnatural, has just issued a report calling for the decriminalization of ALL sexual activity, including sex with children.

Bill Gates is seeking to coat all fruits and vegetables with Apeel. You can't wash it off. It keeps vegetables and fruits from appearing to go bad, for... a... really... long... time. It's for organic produce too! This should work good with the mRNA applications.

Biden wants you to lick The World while The Dali Lama wants you to suck his tongue.

Let me point out something that goes to the heart of transsexual violence against normal people. Few of these characters actually traverse the sexual border from male to altered female, which is why the drag queen phenom is being pushed so hard.

They remain genitally intact while growing breasts and taking female hormones. What happens is that a war develops in the body of such a person, where the hormones attack the natural state and which sends the individual into a flaming rage over the state of their body. That rage... first directed inward... is next directed outward. The female-to-male dynamic is more body morphing.

You might ask yourself how it is that a tiny splinter group of disturbed people has come to wield such power in the culture. The fact is that very powerful interest groups are using this issue to create schisms and fractures in the public body. They control The Media... and the governments... which gives them vehicles to Road Warrior the information highway and violate the common good... The people this is about are only incidental to the agenda itself; it is The Satanic Maxim of... divide and conquer.

The Separated Mind is like a weasel, and so it behaves... in all cases... where the struggle for control to a righteous end is not taking place, as is the case with these issues... it will just change its angle and come from another direction.

The Separated Mind believes it is God. It is not. It is a tool, like a screwdriver, but more like a Swiss Army knife. Still... it is a tool and should not be allowed to operate itself. This... unfortunately... is the case in The World these days. That is why The Devil is loose... because of The Mind being given autonomy and thence directing itself to carnal ends... and for the purpose of material gain.

The Separated Mind is the endless schemer. It takes the color and persona of the values it represents and defends. It has its own tools like Logic. Logic can be used to prove anything. It is endlessly malleable and can be twisted into any shape. That is where the term pretzel logic comes from. The Separated Mind is the advance guard for the belief system it represents. If The Mind reflects good then all its products are good. If it reflects evil, all of its products are evil.

The Mind MUST BE brought to heel or it will bring you to ruin one way or another. It is a most excellent servant. It is a most terrible master. You can fight it in life after life or you can turn it over to The Higher Self... before whose authority it instantly and completely submits.

Truth is neither Good nor Evil. Truth simply is. So long as The Mind engages in a state of contention between good and evil there is a war taking place, and this war goes on forever and ever. Sometimes good wins. Sometimes evil seems to win. Sometimes good appears to be evil and sometimes evil appears to be good. Those who operate on the playing fields of duality are in a state of constant conflict; first with themselves, and then with everyone else.

In Times of Material Darkness, The Mind... in outward focus... is obsessed with material things. Because there is no completeness or unity in material things... disappointment and frustration grow, and grow, and turn into anger, which flames into violence. You see it happening everywhere these days, but mostly where the populations are more densely concentrated, and the push-and-shove factor is intensified.

The same thing is happening with the sexual force. There is now an almost total license for every form of sexual congress across the spectrum from deeply normal to deeply perverted. First... they just wanted to love who they love; which had nothing to do with love. Then they wanted to love anyone or anything that they imagined they loved, which had nothing to do with love. Then they wanted to do it in your face... anytime... and any place; ♫ why don't we d-d-d-do it in the road ♫

However... once again... there is no completeness or unity in this because it is not and never was Love. Love, in essence... is the impetus for Unity. Why then is the end result simply more disappointment and frustration, resulting in anger, and rage?

Loving who you wanted to love, whenever you wanted to love them, and wherever you wanted to love them... hasn't worked out, when it isn't love to start with; what you thought was love turned out to be lust. Otherwise... they wouldn't be so angry about it. I know! Maybe we are the wrong sex at birth. The Cosmos made a mistake. The answer is body mutilation leading to permanent joy and satiation; uh... no... that isn't working either, so... more disappointment and frustration... more anger and rage.

Liberty is not license, and it never will be. The more that people insist their freedom means doing anything they want any time they want... as often as they want... it does not take all that long for the results of that to be revealed to them, and for them to discover that The There... that was supposed to be there... turns out not to be there. Where did it go? I don't know.

Here's a thought. Maybe it was never there in the first place.

Now... my friends in Canada, England, and Australia can no longer visit me because of The Killer Vaccine thing. This does not affect The Ruling Class and their agents and affiliates, who go wherever they please, and who got a saltwater injection and can acquire whatever documents they want whenever they want them. There is no country left to go to (that I know of) where the heavy hand of The Deep State-UN-WEF-Bankster Cabal is not present.

All the world leaders are complicit in this so is seems that the source of our oppression is invisibly resident and externally evident.

The darkness that clouds the human mind now blankets most of The World, except for those wilderness fastnesses that are the locations within and without where The Living Light is broadcasting day and night... and where sanctuary is inviolable.

Even though it seems that The Bad Guys has taken over everywhere, this is only an appearance. Even though they try to block The Sun, they cannot block The Sun. Even though they try to kill The Heart and subjugate The Mind, their reach only extends so far... and they must gain your acquiescence to maintain your subservience.

Their objective is to use the heart and mind of humanity to gain access to the soul and the spirit. They are in for a big surprise, and it has happened again and again, as it is happening now... and always with the same outcome; they lose.

This is a test. This is a time of testing. You are equipped with all you need to rise above the temporary and find sanctuary in The Eternal. This is a time of transition to a new state of consciousness. Some will make the grade and many will not. Those who do not will be given new roles that include new opportunities at some further date. Those who do make the grade will be called on to help those who did not.

End Transmission.......

Some relevant links are to be found at GAB=

"It Seems that All of Those Captured by Religion Must Reform The Truth to Harmonize with Their Perception of It."

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

We've mentioned it several times, and... are moved to mention it again. There are verses... lines... statements in The New Testament that are folded... spindled... and mutilated beyond recognition for the purpose of altering the meaning so that it suits the agendas of those... whose agenda is to confuse... and thereby manipulate you.

Primary among them is this one, “Be not deceived, even The Devil is transformed into an angel of light at the given moment.” The intention is to tell you that The Devil can masquerade as an angel of light. If that is the case, then why do they twist the presentation every which way? Why are there so many different versions of it?

It seems that all of those captured in Religion must reform The Truth to harmonize with their presentation of it. In the end, it all comes down to Power... Control... and Money. The Truth... itself... cannot be spoken. This is why even those in possession of it, as Jesus The Christ surely was, were compelled to speak in parables.

Not all of us are capable of receiving The Truth, and... even those who are, seem to need to understand it in their own way.

There are seven rays, and seven different types of humanity... stream forth on each of them. Those of us on any ray have a definite commonality with everyone else on that ray, and less so with those on other rays. That's just the way it is. Think of it as different neighborhoods in a city or... different rooms in a house. When the lights go on, whatever is in that room is illuminated, and reveals itself to us according to... our... understanding... of... it.

There are seven colors in the VISIBLE spectrum, as they appear on a specific bandwidth. This does not mean the end... at either end... of the possibilities of color... other than those that are presently known to us. One relative truth expresses through each color and is defined according to that color, BUT... The Truth itself is not confined to any of them.

Confined is an interesting word in the context of... “and The Truth shall make you free.” The white light... devoid of qualities is Truth. The colors present relative truth... which we are meant to harmonize with those seven colors and seven tones that are integral to the manifest world.

To a carnal mind... to a mind captured in colors and sounds; how can Truth be communicated? What does it matter if one color means this, and another color means that? What does it matter if certain sounds have a specific impact on the physical form, and on the invisible forms that interactively vibrate between each other? “Oh sure... that makes sense.” Then it is quickly forgotten as the one hearing it slips back into the colors and sounds that compose The World, as... it... APPEARS... to... them.

They... are... dreaming...

Some are deeply asleep and some are closer to awakening. There is a wide range between them. This is all dependent on the veils that obscure their vision of The Real. These veils are woven of desire and mistaken perceptions that lead to what is sometimes called sin(s). Whatever attaches you to the transitory existence is a hindrance and a bind. If The Truth... in fact... sets you free, that means it is free of attachment to anything other than itself. It is lies... and your love affair with animated dust that binds you.

So... where is the practical use in all of this? What does any of it matter if The Mind cannot be controlled? “Oh sure... that makes sense.” Then it is quickly forgotten and The Mind goes back to being a monkey, and the dog-of-desire body sniffs around through the carnal rubbish to see what it might eat or hump.

People color the whole matter. They call it Romance... or Love. They give things degrees of importance because they want to make life meaningful, and... these things, as they really are, do not make life meaningful. This is where the sorrow comes from because what every heart is really seeking is not to be found in material things, BUT... this usually doesn't stop most of them from going right ahead and looking for it where it cannot be found... ever. Even though, “fer sure, it makes sense.”

Eventually... one becomes weary of the whole affair. It might take a million years in the short term, and a billion years or more otherwise. It goes on, and on, and on, and on. They routinely get weary as they age in each lifetime. Every life has the same reminders that repeat, and repeat, and repeat; disease... old age... and death. This is where all the mindless optimism of youth leads.

All the shit we attached ourselves to just weighs us down. This is one of the ways that Nature punishes the rich... the self-important... the temporarily powerful... the temporarily beautiful... the temporarily young, and believe me, no one wants to hear this. (grin) Especially if they identify with any of them. Oh no... indeed. Well... we come to see it as punishment but that is not how it is intended. It only becomes punishment when we refuse to accept the truth of the matter.

There must be a tarot card for middle-aged men hitting the clubs and dressed to kill, with all the ornaments... and unguents... and colorful dress (metaphorically speaking)... eyeing the girls who are well on their way to becoming the ones who no longer attract the eyes of suitors unless they are intoxicated. When I was quite young, I would sit in these clubs... or in the parks... or anywhere that the courting and mating dance went down and amuse myself with stories I created about the conversations taking place.

I knew so many women, and I knew at the time that the woman of my dreams was there behind their eyes... watching me with an ageless understanding, and she would remain for a time, and then she would go and I had to look elsewhere, but she wasn't in any of these women in the fashion that most people understand it. She is resident within you, and that is the whole tale of the kundalini... freed from the tower... where she is guarded by The Black Knight of ignorance... the tower being the spinal column and...

far away... over an impossible distance... it seems... is the bridal chamber of an immortal love of true and everlasting union... if you can get there. The World outside leads to conflict and sorrow. The World within leads to peace and joy.

In every generation a few of us slip away and become the object of that question; “hey! Whatever happened to so and so?” Then the conversation returns to the important things that are endlessly discussed in the interludes between birth and death.

Gaiety and laughter... the dancing nonsense of passing time, filled with the regular occurrence of the unavoidable realities of material existence. The enduring agonies of strife and war, without and within. The momentary coupling and feasting moments. The weddings and funerals that celebrate a disappearance as some kind of finality; if... only... that... were... true.

Even as the masses pick themselves up and try to go about their business again, like an ant colony disturbed by some massive foot... greater tragedies loom on the horizon for those who did not learn the lesson the last time, or the time before that... or the time before that.

Future Plandemics are even now on the drawing boards... future wars... future calamities... cities rising... cities falling. People in a dream, who imagine they are living and dying... who wander all around the gates of The Garden and cannot see it... who invest in future suffering with the actions of the present. On and on it goes.

There is a finer and more permanent world elsewhere. The gates open from within, and those who are about their Father's business hear the messages that tell them it is time to go or to stay yet for a while. They get the useful information that has nothing to do with the chaos and confusion roiling around them.

There are two worlds of being. One of them is endlessly burning with the fires of material desire. This is The Land of Suffering, filled with legions of devils who prod and poke, and... whose sole purpose is to drive you to that other land where suffering is at an end, BUT... all the things that the residents think they want are in The Land of Suffering, so... they remain.

The other world is filled with legions of angels and spiritual fires of divine yearning and the aspiration to serve all and trouble none, so... even The Devil is transformed into an angel of light... when your understanding changes... when your vision clears and that which you formerly saw in one light is now seen in another.

End Transmission.......

There are no links to be found at GAB=.

"You Took God's Remarkable Creation and Self-Sculpted a Tragedy Incarnate. You... Fed... The... Beast... Within."

 Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Welcome to the age of delusion. Welcome to The Boomslang Boomerang Hall of Mirrors. Welcome to the other side of the fallen log, in Jungleland, just off The Gulf of Guinea, where the Gaboon Vipers wait; one bite and you are in San Francisco for life. The overarching view is that might not be a really long time until it happens again, and again, and again.

Welcome to the dense parts of The Suffocating Veil of Illusion. It's a franchise bar operation in every city of The World. All the bartenders are Green Mambas that multiply like the brooms in The Sorcerer's Apprentice with every drink you take. Drink deeply... dream deeply... that's what the neon sign says behind the bar.

Welcome to The Court of Mammon. It's a movable feast that's presently serving in Lebanon. All the bartenders there are rattlesnake chasers that you can't outrun. Most people don't know that rattlesnakes will chase you... if you piss them off, BUT... what happens when they are... always pissed off?

The Court of Mammon is a dense black cube that presses in on itself. Your sense of confinement intensifies with every moment of residency. The way in shrinks behind you. It's like something Escher would paint on PCP. It's a Hellraiser film that plays in your head, and you live forever wishing that you were dead... but you can't die.

Welcome to The Place Where You Can't Forget. Where The Past follows you like a shadow beneath a florescent sun. It's an endless reel of the worst things you've ever seen and done, with a laugh-track audience inside your head, and the bartenders are water moccasins that live under your skin. It's got a museum with living exhibits... and one of the most popular animations is Bill Gates and George Soros joined at the hip, getting a frottage massage from George W. Bush, with a loofah made of fire ants.

You can use the Biden Family Memorial Restroom on your way out- if you can get out... and don't wind up as an exhibit. I'll leave the fixtures to your imagination.

The Body Parts Lounge is a transsexual watering hole, right next to The AMA-Pharmaceutical Credit Union, where they take souls as collateral with an easy payment plan... that's factored in lifetimes so that you can stretch the pain out to a tolerable degree, while you continue to try and change the way things are, and just when you find the solution, you wake up in the same place the day before with messages all over your body that you don't understand.

Variations on these themes are the guaranteed follow-up to your passing from here. There's no way to escape it. You built it and they came. All the worst creatures of the imagination come out of the woodwork like a bad acid trip that never wears off. 

Yes... you get the lights... camera... action; unless it's happening in the dark. All the grips and roadies are the people you did bad things to the last time you were here.

I'm not even close to painting a picture of what you will see; “oh the places you'll go and the things you will see,” with Cenobites as the waiters and the maître de. Where the cocktail waitresses are crocodiles in drag, who smile at you with tears in their eyes, and you get to go home with one every night; where you sleep on a waterbed in a wastewater package plant.

These are only a few paltry images of where you're headed. They can't come close to the real thing. This is what awaits those who thought they could do as they pleased, and... all... the... while... they were writing the script on human skin with fiery ink, for a movie to be filmed on location wherever you are, so... this is why I feel bad for you over at Black Rock... and Vanguard... and State Street, where endless cancer of the testicles does a Riverdance in Goldman's sack, and you get to be a free radical chained to a rock, where legions of the people... that you drove insane... devour your organs again, and again.

And you can't wake up! And you can't wake up!! And you can't wake up!!! You shoulda looked at those Thangas of The Buddhist Wheel of Life. Did you think Hieronymus made all those things up? Was Dante on drugs? Gehenna and Tartarus are forks in the road, and all along you could see the signs, like those for Burma Shave and Harrah's Casino for thousands of miles, but... really... you saw them long before that. Maybe you just had a mind to go and see what Hell was like?

How do you get to Hell anyway? There are no road maps; no GPS... no signs outside the cave entrance, BUT... there are assuredly... ways to get there. You're doing all the right things this very moment. Even if there had been no road previously, you built the highway with your every thought... word... and deed.

In your dreams at night you can hear Cerberus howling. You can see the forms in the red mist that call from the periphery... in the voices of Bakasura and Baal. Every appetite and desire has a face of fire, ever-changing in the flames while remaining the same. You see your reflection in the smoldering mirror; how ever did you get there? How did you get to look like that?

These are a very few of so many reasons that I don't hate you; why you cause no anger in me. When I close my eyes and see the Rothschild exhibit at the county fair in the center of The Earth, I note that even though they are still here, they are already there as well. A part of them is in perpetual residence, in their winter home. Your heart must burn in an acid bath to hurt others so

Sometimes... I muse at what it took for you to get so far down that road. Everything human in a person must cringe and rebel at the passage, but there is something less than human in you, and with power to spare. It ensures that you will arrive there.

What a distance you have come! From small injuries to everyone in reach... to massive harm delivered at a distance. From grubby beginnings to glittering suites, high above the city... you climbed every step of the way, over the bodies of your victims, to the top of The Shit-Heap in your mind. You took God's remarkable creation and self-sculpted a tragedy incarnate. You... fed... The... Beast. You nurtured it in your breast. You transformed Love into a tire-fire on Seven Mile Road.

How did you get like this? How did Evil become your rap partner and shipmate? It must have started a very long time ago. In times forgotten now, where no relics remain. 

Long ago... all of the landmarks and evidence were turned into sand. In the incomprehensible mind of God, it must make sense somehow... for you to poison generations with Killer Vaccines... to load up the waterways in Iraq with depleted uranium; for you to say it was "worth it" for sanctions to kill 500,000 children.

I suppose it would be redundant to ask how you sleep at night.

The historical record of your visits is etched in blood... fury... and pain. How did you get so angry and so vile? How did you find your way to laughter over the things you did? How did you come to celebrate evil in the sheer joy of doing?

Surely there is a reason for it all. Somehow... you... and the people you do these things to... have a compact. Somewhere in the dark past of forgotten horrors, you conspired... you and the victims conspired to arrange for your encounters. 

Do you just change roles from life to life? Do you rotate your turns in the barrel? It must be so... because nothing else makes sense. Here... here... is where everything previously contracted for, and agreed upon... happens over and over again, in perpetual carnage and suffering, across a span of countless lifetimes of self-abuse that is liberally shared with all and sundry of similar minds.

I can't hate you. You hate yourself far more than I could ever manage. Somehow... you and the others in the dramas that play, have agreed upon a course of events. It is a tragedy beyond the telling because it never had to be at all.

I can see it clearly now. It is all a matter of choices made in The Separated Mind, and this is simply how they go about achieving unity... by tearing everything else apart.

Fortunately, there are other roads to travel, for those of us who seek The Light.

I have found a finer road to travel and I hope you will all know that you are welcome at any time to join me and The Great Companions who have gone on before; who wait just up ahead... and around the bend... and come ever so slowly into view as you develop the eyes to see them, by virtue of divine purification rites... which occur when love is turned in upon itself and then rolls back out over everyone else. 

One can never go wrong by taking their cues and corrections from The Sun.

End Transmission.......

Some links are to be found at GAB=

https://gab.com/visible

"It's an All-Out... Rising-Dead Walkabout of Hungry Ghost Armies... in Full-On... Mind Parasite... Possession Mode."

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

The full-court press for the normalization of all Perversity... under the umbrella of living one's authentic life, and the Natural-Born Freedom to express oneself... has become the all-out juggernaut of the moment; even though there is no such natural-born freedom. Everywhere you look, the trans-humanist atheist-agenda. and war on Christianity is in full swing. Meanwhile... the turn-the-other-cheek brigade is running out of cheeks.

The force of this, 'everything goes' mani-fes-to... runs from the highest corridors of power, through the multinational corporations, and completely unfiltered along the poisoned viaducts of the entertainment industry. It's an all-out... Rising-Dead walkabout of hungry Ghost armies... in full-on, mind parasite, possession mode; grabbing every unattended mind in reach. It's a 'distract 'em and snatch 'em' operation, going full-bore across the country. Things really do, “fall apart.”

What I see, through the noise and confusion of manufactured outrage is... a war on The Divine Feminine. The trans-humanists want to end the need for human reproduction... as well as The Family Unit; going into a balls-to-the-wall, Brave New World format. They think they can get there by creating legions of mentally-ill men who pretend to be women. The natural course of normal intercourse is being replaced by the place where The Sun doesn't Shine; “Back-door Charlie is my name and back-door boogie is my game.”

They are teaching pre-pubescent children how to perform this act before it is even possible for them. This is in the hopes that it will 'take' with a significant number after puberty sets in. They even teach it as a form of birth control.

The thing is, my friends, The Deep State wants to own the ways and means of your sexual expression by perverting it... and turning it... into unrestrained animal nature that they can control with The Carrot and Stick.

There is a beast who sleeps in the human subconscious and they are seeking to invoke it by agitating it where it rests. It's a kind of rattle-the-chains effort; a poking the bear with a stick scenario. Maybe it will rise red-eyed and snarling from The Deeps.

All manner of mythical creatures are swimming in the deep zones of the human mind. The catch-and-release tactics of urban crime management are a part of this. If people think they can get away with anything they are bound to try it, cause The Devil never sleeps. As we have been at pains to indicate, The Devil is The Mind in pursuit of carnal enterprise, while in its separated state. There is no other devil. He lives inside us, the same as The Angel does. It is the intention of spiritual evolution for the one to triumph over the other.

In Times of Material Darkness, it is more likely to go one way than the other, and you can chalk it all up to Bad Parenting, which includes no parenting, which includes letting the children decide what is best for them.

Given that a child goes through all the stages of human evolution from cave-dwellers on up, this is NOT a good idea... speaking of arrested development and habitual pleasure-seeking. Ideally... they are guided to a higher level of awareness than their progenitors. In Times of Material Darkness, it tends to go sideways into the pursuit of comfort, convenience, and transitory pleasures.

Yes... humanity goes off the track and The Divine has to lead them back. This is seldom accomplished without discomfort because The Separated Mind wants what it wants, and does not like being told what to do. That's how the rebellion came about in the first place.

It is not difficult to get back to The Garden. All you got to do is set out in the right direction, which is... (drum-roll) within. You conquer the external world by conquering the internal world. There's no complex schematic to this. The Mind likes to complicate the matter so it can talk itself out of it. It has become accustomed to swilling at the trough and does not want to be awakened from its dream of filth.

The story of The Prodigal Son tells us all about it. However, it is not a journey of a matter of days; excepting for the occasional Road to Damascus event. It is a journey of lifetimes. This is what it meant by, "The Father saw him coming from a long way off."

Even with all of the blessings and joys of heavenly residence, there are some who simply prefer it here, and they live in Beverly Hills and New York City... along with a number of other Rakshasa enclaves of like kind around The World. They routinely come and go from the same locales over and over, AND... so long as they mind the rules of conduct, they can stay in nice material fixings. I should add that this is a delicate and difficult art to finesse, so... mind how you go.

In any case... ruthlessness out leads to ruthlessness in. All of the negative qualities of the self-interested entrepreneur apply and give an equal return on investments made in bad behavior.

Just because you are rich and powerful does not mean you can indefinitely get away with juicing children like oranges, for the preparation of a revitalizing axle grease... in screwdriver format, Or... at all even. Yeah... you might have your private armies and the goodwill of those who run temporal law enforcement, BUT... you get no slack from The Lords of Karma, whose courtroom you are obliged to enter every time you leave here.

So... like I said... some know the ins and outs of The Game and how to play it, BUT... human nature being what it is and is not... sooner or later... it screws up.

So... there is this final, desperate push to turn the present-day Weimar Republic into a Hell-on-Earth, to be ruled over by a group of arch-demons risen from The Pit. Right about now, I can hear someone who knows it all saying, “But I thought the only devil was The Mind?” Yeah... so? Are you stupid or what?

You can learn a great deal about all of this from Buddhism which is a science of the mind; Christianity being a science of the heart. There is no God, per se in Buddhism but... there are Buddhas who qualify as a rose by any other name. The Usual Suspects like it a lot, which is why they run nearly every Western sect. It gets them around the complications (at least in their mind) of The God Problem. This is especially helpful when it is your intention to play God.

Bottom line... you are either playing God or serving God. There is a third option but I'm not the expositor of that.

I have friends in The Buddha Realm. Anyone could... if they abide by The Code. There are benefic entities and wrathful entities, and if you've read or listened to The Tibetan Book of the Dead, you would know something about this. I see places where they are called deities; well... Mr. Smarty Pants how does that factor into there being no God? (asking for a friend) Well... surely you know; why are you asking me?

Some things, my friends are sub-rosa and ever shall be. You have to sign a kind of NDA to know these things. You see how well they work out on this plane. The same thing sometimes happens on the other planes... in Times of Material Darkness, but then... you lose your backstage pass.

Anyway, by the time you learn the really important things, there's no possibility of betraying them. Fearsome entities guard The Mysteries of Light, AND... what's more, the mysteries do not translate below the level on which they are understood.

They wind up as corruptions of The Truth. Oh... there's still some power in them; like the reversed Kundalini and the reversed Kabbalah. Enough to blow yourself up, but not enough to be any kind of threat to The Heavenly Hierarchy.

In any case, the Door wardens at The Gates of The Kingdom of The Light see certain types coming from a long way off, and... they are routed to the waiting room for The Purpose of Demonstration.

You might wonder how The Separated Mind of The Personality manages to stay stupid for what seems like forever. It is the nature of the beast and where we get that Purpose of Demonstration thing from. You see... a perpetual and ancient story plays out here... over, and over, and over. It's always new to the people it is new to; having forgotten all the salient (not to mention, salacious) details from the last excursion.

On and on it goes, and... occasionally someone finds their way back to The Garden. Otherwise... there are all the possibilities of The Imagination, and you've got forever to explore them.

End Transmission.......

>

Some links are at GAB=.

“The Tibetan Book of The Dead”