"You'll have to stop asking for an intersex specialist if you want to move forward with your knee and hernia surgeries"
That was Dr. Wilson at the Ravensong.
9
doctors in more than 5 years, there are dozens of specialists for
Trannies, women have gynecologists, but intersex people in Canada have
to accept Therapeutic Privilege, the moniker behind which genocide
hides. There are more than 40,000 people in B.C. that are intersex, but
they don't get any specialists. The trans people get specialists, so
they're happy to ignore the genocide, even as they get some of the worst
surgeries and care in the world for trans people. And they all have
mental health labels on their foreheads as a condition of their care
here.
Happy fags don't like to hear pessimistic opinions. They want to believe that they actually have equality.
Look closely at the medical care all you happy queers recieve, I bet
you'll find you're still suffering and dying at a higher rate.
And you all still get paid less than the married people.
In Christy Clark's B.C. you're second class citizens. She'd kill you all if she could.
The Focus on the Family doesn't include queers. Even if she deigns to
attend your parade this year, you know as soon as the fake public
appearance is over she's going to a back room somewhere to laugh at the
stupid happy - fags who think they are going to still have freedom,
equality, and prosperity in the future.
Maybe if you pay for
second tier health care. They aren't going to spend public money on
queers unless they are happy fags clucking about how great it is to be a
slave.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Thursday, June 07, 2012
Diagramming for less - yED
I used to do a lot of network diagramming and I used Visio a lot for it.
I was recently looking into "brainstorming" or idea linking software, and I tried about 20 different open source products. I even tried visio with some brainstorming templates.
Not what I was looking for.
In the end, the CLEAR winner, for me and my particular idea diagramming needs, I ended up sticking to yED - which is FREE.
Why I like yED over all the others? It doesn't auto place the nodes! every other piece of software for diagramming has only specific places nodes can be placed. yED doesn't care. And the best of all, you can import your own transparent PNG files for your own custom icons.
It costs a few hundred bux less than visio, and I think it's just as good for 99% of what you are going to do.
it's far less restrictive, and for the database people, you can link fields to tables and mysql
I was recently looking into "brainstorming" or idea linking software, and I tried about 20 different open source products. I even tried visio with some brainstorming templates.
Not what I was looking for.
In the end, the CLEAR winner, for me and my particular idea diagramming needs, I ended up sticking to yED - which is FREE.
Why I like yED over all the others? It doesn't auto place the nodes! every other piece of software for diagramming has only specific places nodes can be placed. yED doesn't care. And the best of all, you can import your own transparent PNG files for your own custom icons.
It costs a few hundred bux less than visio, and I think it's just as good for 99% of what you are going to do.
Monday, May 07, 2012
The Horror
I just wrote a horror story. I'm really very proud. I don't think I've written a pure horror yet, although Michael's Right Hand had some horror elements. This one is called The Doula.
If you thought the title of the article was something else, well, you can check out the RJD2 album, or watch Apocalypse Now, or read about the Adventures of Lt. Mandy Smarter.
If you thought the title of the article was something else, well, you can check out the RJD2 album, or watch Apocalypse Now, or read about the Adventures of Lt. Mandy Smarter.
Sunday, May 06, 2012
How to create a multi-faith Pagan Temple or "Eclectic Coven"
No, I'm actually not going to give a course in pre-masonry
architecture like adobe or strip and lathe. I might post a couple links
to it. No, you can just lease a large open covered space, with your
donations gathered for Services rendered to your different clients using
the Space for their Rituals or Gatherings.
What I would like to outline, is how you can go about creating spaces to gather and have celebrations with the same level of comfort and security as other more established spiritual belief systems.
I just realized that I have created a new TLA.
An MPT (Multi-faith Pagan Temple). How about ESC (Eclectic Spirituality Coven).
That is so excellent.
Having a good TLA is the first step towards mass penetration of your Temple Marketing Strategies.
They work better than free T-Shirts with Temple branding.
Churches and their Pagan equivalents, the Temples, Covens, Blots, Kindreds, Feast Halls can operate as a non-profit, requiring a board of directors, or as a Single Owner Proprietorship.
I suggest that a Single Owner Proprietership of a Temple or Coven space makes it easier to maintain control over membership, which is necessary to limit and mitigate the damages caused by independent agents of disruption. There are always a few of those. Using the membership and assessment processes of a Temple allows the identification and exclusion of disruptive entities. A limited partnership or society also works, but it is important that a Temple is not defined as a Society, because then it is not considered a Primary Spiritual Space for tax purposes and is then relegated to a sub-set of religious support services. The christian administrations love to tell you that a pagan temple is not a church but a religious support service organization. You may need to give them a letter of self definition prepared by a lawyer or Notary Public. Along with your business fees.
It is, of course, a Business. This business of Spirituality and the the Right to Gather for expressions of it.
Myself, personally, I prefer Temple or Gathering Place as a Title, but really, you can call it anything as long as your Mission Statement clarifies that you and our people refer to your equivalent of a christian church or temple by this particular name. You do not have to use the christian term church, even for tax purposes as long as you are clear in your description of the main gathering place as a place for spiritual gatherings of people engaged in common spiritual practices.
By sub leasing or renting the space to different pagan groups for dances, feasts, and gatherings, you can easily maintain a functioning multi-faith pagan temple in almost any large space, and you can even sub lease from another temple yourselves at first until you have enough donations to get a dedicated space.
Another way to supplement the income of a pagan temple is to offer some form of external service organization sponsored by your temple for poverty or outreach services within your area. It has been very lucrative for the christians.
Keep in mind as you slog away against an unmoveable pyramid of administrative hurdles, that it is your right, your very basic Human Right, to establish a place for you and others you trust to gather and celebrate your beliefs and spirituality.
The very fact that there are no significant multifaith pagan temples is not an indication of an absence of these belief systems, it is an indication of the inherent suppression of these belief systems within the social structure of the country. Otherwise these spaces would already exist, except that equality and human rights are only concepts on paper and television broadcasts. Finding them in the real world is impossible sometimes.
In China, many christian churches and Falun Gong gather in private homes, or you can even consider renting a coffeeshop, yoga space, hall, or community centre for your first gatherings and meetings as you prepare to find a suitable space to lease with enough washrooms a food services facilities to match your membership. Many christian churches exist legally for years while practicing in different spaces that become available.
Services rendered to members can also increase the profitability of the Temple, allowing it to expand much more quickly. Temples that offer childcare can easily supplement the income from member fees.
Keep in mind, you do not have to be free or take donations. You are allowed to have a set fee for services. Every church sells coffee or something downstairs afterwards. Workshops, seminars, T-shirts, books, and other merchandise, can all help build the size of your temple by increasing its solvency.
Keep in mind the general nature of people. They are ignorant and superstitious. It may be better to find some other set of marketable images for your Temple or Coven than the ones you actually use in your Rituals or Gatherings. Seriously. It may be in your interests NOT to put a 20 foot tall pentacle on the front of the building. It also would limit your membership, as people who are not aligned with the pentacle may find it offensive or indicative of a bias toward people that dig pentacles.
Since paganism and eclectic shamanism are quite broad and varied practices that encompass groups from almost every ethnicity, it is probably useful to your organization to discuss amongst its members and create a list of the Gods that your particular Pagan Temple is aligned with. Almost all Pagan Temples have a certain set of Dominant Deities unless they are an APT (Atheist Pagan Temple). Which is common as well. The Deistic pagans will almost always have to create a master list of the Deities whose contemplation is embraced within that Temple.
Many pagan groups do not actually get along very well, and their practices or beliefs may strongly oppose each other. There is a reason you don't see a lot of Celtic imagery mixed with Egyptian. These god sets are opposed to each other for the most part. It is not discriminatory to define the gods who your temple is dedicated to support and exclude those of another faith, unless you have opened your doors to a "public ceremony", and even then your presentation staff or priests/priestesses or Mentors should be direct ceremonies towards your common stated spiritual goals.
APT's have a special problem in Canadian law in that the current christian administration doesn't accept atheist Pagan practice to be considered spiritual. Which is a denial of the basic rights of atheist pagans.
Myself, I am not a Wiccan, but I believe that Dianics are perfectly within their rights to limit their membership to females, and it should be up to individual covens whether they wish to accept queer people, just like the christians. The same with all pagan orders. Although I would prefer people were more inclusive, 2000 years of christian hegemony that methodically controls the human sexual impulse is pretty hard to unravel from our consciousness, and many paths have very set and ordered sexual interactions.
Laws in each province vary, but there are always instances where alchohol might be served in a christian church hall, like at a wedding, so there is no reason that your pagan temple cannot have a Feast night for some spiritual reason, like to simply gather and be together.
By creating a Pagan Temple or Eclectic Coven as a Business entity and keeping books, other group benefits may be able to be passed onto members, such as group insurance, or group healthcare with a trusted set of doctors, group legal aid, childcare, group purchases of bus passes, and many more useful benefits that the organizational and accounting structure of a properly run business is allowed to write off or subsidize.
Probably the most compelling reason that an eclectic witch or pagan might consider joining and becoming a visible Temple, Coven, or Gather Place, is the group protection that these spaces provide. Having a network of like minded people is necessary for survival, and of course, this is the number one reason that there are almost none in existence in our "religiously tolerant" country.
Be warned though. The entrenched hegemony got its power through murder and coercion and robbery. They'll do it to you over and over again. There are a number of high profile scholars in the occult who lived in Canada. They wrote some excellent groundbreaking work in the field. And every one of them died penniless with unbelievable things written about them.
You don't see Covens or Pagan Temple because the people who try to build them don't set out with the concept in their mind that they must be warriors building a fortress for their belief. Get it straight. They'll kill you, so build security, have entrance cameras, be prepared to follow people that follow your members, have an investigative services team once you are big enough.
That's where the Temple and the Coven and the Gathering Place can help you most, is making a refuge where you can't be singled out. Unless the Temple itself becomes infected with politics, which it will if you are not careful. Then you have rival temples of non conducive gods and beliefs, but that's not much different now, just we're gonna add a few thousand more.
Really, it would be bad if we had rival Temple Wars, but with properly designed Temple security and proactive protective services, you congregation can gather and celebrate happily. Especially if everyone has their own ceremonial sword or axe or something.
Divided, you will be conquered.
So Gather.
And keep in mind, there is no specific Pagan Deity or Belief, other than what you define for yourselves in your charter. So you are not bound to any particular bias of peacefulness unless you so define it. It is more important that your charter stress the importance of its members survival and protection, and follow through with that protective service. Dead or bled dry members can't pay membership fees.
It might even help you to clearly define your enemies. Enemy cults, enemy gods, what to do to them. The christians do that to an extreme amount, so it is a perfectly legitimate practice.
If you make your Temples strong enough as a business entity you may be able to use business techniques to absorb a former church that becomes for sale.
(wip)
What I would like to outline, is how you can go about creating spaces to gather and have celebrations with the same level of comfort and security as other more established spiritual belief systems.
I just realized that I have created a new TLA.
An MPT (Multi-faith Pagan Temple). How about ESC (Eclectic Spirituality Coven).
That is so excellent.
Having a good TLA is the first step towards mass penetration of your Temple Marketing Strategies.
They work better than free T-Shirts with Temple branding.
Churches and their Pagan equivalents, the Temples, Covens, Blots, Kindreds, Feast Halls can operate as a non-profit, requiring a board of directors, or as a Single Owner Proprietorship.
I suggest that a Single Owner Proprietership of a Temple or Coven space makes it easier to maintain control over membership, which is necessary to limit and mitigate the damages caused by independent agents of disruption. There are always a few of those. Using the membership and assessment processes of a Temple allows the identification and exclusion of disruptive entities. A limited partnership or society also works, but it is important that a Temple is not defined as a Society, because then it is not considered a Primary Spiritual Space for tax purposes and is then relegated to a sub-set of religious support services. The christian administrations love to tell you that a pagan temple is not a church but a religious support service organization. You may need to give them a letter of self definition prepared by a lawyer or Notary Public. Along with your business fees.
It is, of course, a Business. This business of Spirituality and the the Right to Gather for expressions of it.
Myself, personally, I prefer Temple or Gathering Place as a Title, but really, you can call it anything as long as your Mission Statement clarifies that you and our people refer to your equivalent of a christian church or temple by this particular name. You do not have to use the christian term church, even for tax purposes as long as you are clear in your description of the main gathering place as a place for spiritual gatherings of people engaged in common spiritual practices.
By sub leasing or renting the space to different pagan groups for dances, feasts, and gatherings, you can easily maintain a functioning multi-faith pagan temple in almost any large space, and you can even sub lease from another temple yourselves at first until you have enough donations to get a dedicated space.
Another way to supplement the income of a pagan temple is to offer some form of external service organization sponsored by your temple for poverty or outreach services within your area. It has been very lucrative for the christians.
Keep in mind as you slog away against an unmoveable pyramid of administrative hurdles, that it is your right, your very basic Human Right, to establish a place for you and others you trust to gather and celebrate your beliefs and spirituality.
The very fact that there are no significant multifaith pagan temples is not an indication of an absence of these belief systems, it is an indication of the inherent suppression of these belief systems within the social structure of the country. Otherwise these spaces would already exist, except that equality and human rights are only concepts on paper and television broadcasts. Finding them in the real world is impossible sometimes.
In China, many christian churches and Falun Gong gather in private homes, or you can even consider renting a coffeeshop, yoga space, hall, or community centre for your first gatherings and meetings as you prepare to find a suitable space to lease with enough washrooms a food services facilities to match your membership. Many christian churches exist legally for years while practicing in different spaces that become available.
Services rendered to members can also increase the profitability of the Temple, allowing it to expand much more quickly. Temples that offer childcare can easily supplement the income from member fees.
Keep in mind, you do not have to be free or take donations. You are allowed to have a set fee for services. Every church sells coffee or something downstairs afterwards. Workshops, seminars, T-shirts, books, and other merchandise, can all help build the size of your temple by increasing its solvency.
Keep in mind the general nature of people. They are ignorant and superstitious. It may be better to find some other set of marketable images for your Temple or Coven than the ones you actually use in your Rituals or Gatherings. Seriously. It may be in your interests NOT to put a 20 foot tall pentacle on the front of the building. It also would limit your membership, as people who are not aligned with the pentacle may find it offensive or indicative of a bias toward people that dig pentacles.
Since paganism and eclectic shamanism are quite broad and varied practices that encompass groups from almost every ethnicity, it is probably useful to your organization to discuss amongst its members and create a list of the Gods that your particular Pagan Temple is aligned with. Almost all Pagan Temples have a certain set of Dominant Deities unless they are an APT (Atheist Pagan Temple). Which is common as well. The Deistic pagans will almost always have to create a master list of the Deities whose contemplation is embraced within that Temple.
Many pagan groups do not actually get along very well, and their practices or beliefs may strongly oppose each other. There is a reason you don't see a lot of Celtic imagery mixed with Egyptian. These god sets are opposed to each other for the most part. It is not discriminatory to define the gods who your temple is dedicated to support and exclude those of another faith, unless you have opened your doors to a "public ceremony", and even then your presentation staff or priests/priestesses or Mentors should be direct ceremonies towards your common stated spiritual goals.
APT's have a special problem in Canadian law in that the current christian administration doesn't accept atheist Pagan practice to be considered spiritual. Which is a denial of the basic rights of atheist pagans.
Myself, I am not a Wiccan, but I believe that Dianics are perfectly within their rights to limit their membership to females, and it should be up to individual covens whether they wish to accept queer people, just like the christians. The same with all pagan orders. Although I would prefer people were more inclusive, 2000 years of christian hegemony that methodically controls the human sexual impulse is pretty hard to unravel from our consciousness, and many paths have very set and ordered sexual interactions.
Laws in each province vary, but there are always instances where alchohol might be served in a christian church hall, like at a wedding, so there is no reason that your pagan temple cannot have a Feast night for some spiritual reason, like to simply gather and be together.
By creating a Pagan Temple or Eclectic Coven as a Business entity and keeping books, other group benefits may be able to be passed onto members, such as group insurance, or group healthcare with a trusted set of doctors, group legal aid, childcare, group purchases of bus passes, and many more useful benefits that the organizational and accounting structure of a properly run business is allowed to write off or subsidize.
Probably the most compelling reason that an eclectic witch or pagan might consider joining and becoming a visible Temple, Coven, or Gather Place, is the group protection that these spaces provide. Having a network of like minded people is necessary for survival, and of course, this is the number one reason that there are almost none in existence in our "religiously tolerant" country.
Be warned though. The entrenched hegemony got its power through murder and coercion and robbery. They'll do it to you over and over again. There are a number of high profile scholars in the occult who lived in Canada. They wrote some excellent groundbreaking work in the field. And every one of them died penniless with unbelievable things written about them.
You don't see Covens or Pagan Temple because the people who try to build them don't set out with the concept in their mind that they must be warriors building a fortress for their belief. Get it straight. They'll kill you, so build security, have entrance cameras, be prepared to follow people that follow your members, have an investigative services team once you are big enough.
That's where the Temple and the Coven and the Gathering Place can help you most, is making a refuge where you can't be singled out. Unless the Temple itself becomes infected with politics, which it will if you are not careful. Then you have rival temples of non conducive gods and beliefs, but that's not much different now, just we're gonna add a few thousand more.
Really, it would be bad if we had rival Temple Wars, but with properly designed Temple security and proactive protective services, you congregation can gather and celebrate happily. Especially if everyone has their own ceremonial sword or axe or something.
Divided, you will be conquered.
So Gather.
And keep in mind, there is no specific Pagan Deity or Belief, other than what you define for yourselves in your charter. So you are not bound to any particular bias of peacefulness unless you so define it. It is more important that your charter stress the importance of its members survival and protection, and follow through with that protective service. Dead or bled dry members can't pay membership fees.
It might even help you to clearly define your enemies. Enemy cults, enemy gods, what to do to them. The christians do that to an extreme amount, so it is a perfectly legitimate practice.
If you make your Temples strong enough as a business entity you may be able to use business techniques to absorb a former church that becomes for sale.
(wip)
Friday, May 04, 2012
Threesomes are Queer.
Threesomes are Queer.
Simple concept.
It is impossible to have a non queer threesome. Threesomes are not “hetero”. They’re queer.
one guy – two girls, they’re Queer.
one girl – two guys, they’re Queer.
Immediately and irrevocably until they die and burn in hell for all the rest of eternity.
That’s just the way it is.
If you dabble with that Queer glue you are just plain stuck I tell ya.
Seriously. Its instantaneous and doesn’t come off. Showers won’t work you filthy ppl.
=P
Just an Epiphany or something.
I dig how integral Threes are to Interplanetary Travel in the novel Babel-17.
Written by a cool black queer guy, a pioneer in speculative fiction.
There is another interesting story that you might look up if you like that.
In the back of Vonda McIntyre’s Dreamsnake dell edition from the early 80′s there is a novella called Aztecs, about a space pilot who has to have her heart replaced with a machine one to fly across the void. The sound of other peoples heartbeats and the feeling of their pulse become unbearable to the Pilots. Sometimes I try to imagine what the Man Who Fell To Earth's swan song album would sound like.
Simple concept.
It is impossible to have a non queer threesome. Threesomes are not “hetero”. They’re queer.
one guy – two girls, they’re Queer.
one girl – two guys, they’re Queer.
Immediately and irrevocably until they die and burn in hell for all the rest of eternity.
That’s just the way it is.
If you dabble with that Queer glue you are just plain stuck I tell ya.
Seriously. Its instantaneous and doesn’t come off. Showers won’t work you filthy ppl.
=P
Just an Epiphany or something.
I dig how integral Threes are to Interplanetary Travel in the novel Babel-17.
Written by a cool black queer guy, a pioneer in speculative fiction.
There is another interesting story that you might look up if you like that.
In the back of Vonda McIntyre’s Dreamsnake dell edition from the early 80′s there is a novella called Aztecs, about a space pilot who has to have her heart replaced with a machine one to fly across the void. The sound of other peoples heartbeats and the feeling of their pulse become unbearable to the Pilots. Sometimes I try to imagine what the Man Who Fell To Earth's swan song album would sound like.
Michael's Right Hand
Rituals are plays of meanings for those who cannot improvise to remember with.
They smelled like Christians. They were obviously witches, but they were way too clean. Holy Ones.
Fuck he hated Holy Ones. Not an “I’m going to murder you all” hatred. More of like an “Ewwww”.
They had souls like hair that had been washed in scalding hot water with shitloads of soap made from the fat of rendered cows. Stripped of life and frayed at the ends. Fuck. What did these uptight bitches want with him he really couldn’t fathom.
His room is small, he smokes his spliff. Inhaling he returns there.
He sees his Warder moving behind him, and tells her clearly to stay at the back. They are in a Room.
There are many Rooms in the world, built by many people, for many purposes. With many tricky devices.
He looks at the women. Barbies in robes. Not cool. Barbies like power, not truth. Barbies don't care if people die. Their souls are too greedy for themselves. A steaming pile of shit was about to descend. When shit hits the fan, Barbies always become followers or batshit crazy. Fuck. Or they RUN.
There are 9 of them, which is odd for witches. 9 and a priestess. But it was possible there were more. His vision was murky at the corners of the room. They stood in spots a few feet from a stone table with a longsword lying upon it. Shitty. Blades suck in Rooms with pretty girls in robes. Rooms were unpredictable. He tried to calm his energy. They were fools to bring him here with a Blade. There might be more too, somewhere else in the Room. They might possibly be unaware of its presence.
If they do not stand in the proper spot…or they run...
White robes. Purity. Fuck this was shitty. What did that idiot priestess want. Did she realize one of her charges might die here? Barbies in white. So definitely not good at all. Not a single one of them would be able to hold the Blade strong enough to stop it. They were not warrior Barbies.
He looked. Fuck. Old patterns of magnetism. Shit. Old unused unknown untested unmoved fucking bands of shit. Fuck.
“Don’t fucking move, Priestess.”
He turned to her young charges, he couldn’t see their faces clearly. It must be an old glass, starting to warp.
“Stand in the places as you have learned to stand.” He barked. There wasn’t time to waste. These were starry eyed bookworm girls and they didn’t realize how fucking fast one of them could die here. They were clueless.
He expanded his range. There was one. There.
A small thin dagger like object flew out of a wall hole and through the edge of the priestess’ robe. She wasn’t exactly on her spot.
“Stand on your spot!” They all shifted a couple inches. the dagger was sticking to something on the other side of a pillar, he couldn’t see it. They obviously could.
He didn’t know who the hell they were, but they were playing with fire being in this Room without understanding it.
The priestess was continuing her Ritual as she had learned it, she didn’t break stride at the dagger, but her face registered. She understood the implications. Finally.
There was still the fucking Blade on the table. He could feel at least 7 more small ones in the walls. He’d seen rooms that gyrated serrated walls of blades before. He hated Rooms. Rooms had a habit of activating when he was in them for any length of time. But once they started moving, it could kill everyone inside if it stopped before the sequence was finished.
What would they gain that they would risk this price by calling him here?
He flexed his reddish leathery wings and snorted as he inhaled in Real Life. The Axe was fully engorged with the Fire in his hand. He looked at it. They were calling someone. Stupid bitches. This would be Bad.
A tall beautiful Angel with a slightly cruel smile of benevolence appears. The Fucker of all Fuckers himself. Michael.
This would be REALLY bad.
Michael has his sword out, spitting out the words he thinks will give him power over me in this world. That is what the book has told him the words will do.
The book has set him up.
He reaches the end of the monolog. The witches say their short chant. They believe they are cheering their triumphant Knight of God as he vanquishes the greatest of Demons. That is what the book has told him.
They have spoken the words in their places, they have stood in the proper spaces, they have worn the proper clothes and faces. I have no choice you stupid cunts. Fuck. If you only understood what you had just said you would not have spoken. They had no idea what they were saying. The book had not been translated.
The words spit out of my mouth in 3 languages, only one of which I can partly hear, but I have no time to think.
He strikes with the sword of brilliant blue steel and yellow energy in his Right Hand, cutting a swath of chi across lines of magnetism carefully balanced. Balanced and Charged now with the Key.
Michael, the Right Hand of God. That is the aspect he calls with this Play.
He and his ladies have called me to take part in their Play, without asking.
My Part is Samael.
The Left Hand of God for 2 aeons as Gabriel was still an infant. Redeemer.
The Blade flies from the table, much faster than the dagger flew. On ancient fields of carefully placed magnetic stones it flips, as it was set to do. Waiting for the blue sword to be swung from this spot. The Blade could finally complete the Ritual the book had set in motion.
The young rich wizard who hopes to fill himself with power, falls much slower than his Right Hand holding the sword.
I spit out the remaining words as the Blade stops still for a few moments in the air, where my hand is grasping. I have never spoken them before, and hope to never speak them again. I do not know what they were. I was staring at the women, pissing themselves, too frightened to even budge from standing in their sacred “spot”. The Blade clatters to the ground with a sound much wetter than just metal.
They would not be able to help him anyway.
Tears streaming down my face, I see my Warder hack the cord completely.
I’m staring at the hand, and the bright blue sword, as I disconnect.
------
from:
http://serializednovel.wordpress.com/2012/05/04/book-4-michaels-right-hand/
They smelled like Christians. They were obviously witches, but they were way too clean. Holy Ones.
Fuck he hated Holy Ones. Not an “I’m going to murder you all” hatred. More of like an “Ewwww”.
They had souls like hair that had been washed in scalding hot water with shitloads of soap made from the fat of rendered cows. Stripped of life and frayed at the ends. Fuck. What did these uptight bitches want with him he really couldn’t fathom.
His room is small, he smokes his spliff. Inhaling he returns there.
He sees his Warder moving behind him, and tells her clearly to stay at the back. They are in a Room.
There are many Rooms in the world, built by many people, for many purposes. With many tricky devices.
He looks at the women. Barbies in robes. Not cool. Barbies like power, not truth. Barbies don't care if people die. Their souls are too greedy for themselves. A steaming pile of shit was about to descend. When shit hits the fan, Barbies always become followers or batshit crazy. Fuck. Or they RUN.
There are 9 of them, which is odd for witches. 9 and a priestess. But it was possible there were more. His vision was murky at the corners of the room. They stood in spots a few feet from a stone table with a longsword lying upon it. Shitty. Blades suck in Rooms with pretty girls in robes. Rooms were unpredictable. He tried to calm his energy. They were fools to bring him here with a Blade. There might be more too, somewhere else in the Room. They might possibly be unaware of its presence.
If they do not stand in the proper spot…or they run...
White robes. Purity. Fuck this was shitty. What did that idiot priestess want. Did she realize one of her charges might die here? Barbies in white. So definitely not good at all. Not a single one of them would be able to hold the Blade strong enough to stop it. They were not warrior Barbies.
He looked. Fuck. Old patterns of magnetism. Shit. Old unused unknown untested unmoved fucking bands of shit. Fuck.
“Don’t fucking move, Priestess.”
He turned to her young charges, he couldn’t see their faces clearly. It must be an old glass, starting to warp.
“Stand in the places as you have learned to stand.” He barked. There wasn’t time to waste. These were starry eyed bookworm girls and they didn’t realize how fucking fast one of them could die here. They were clueless.
He expanded his range. There was one. There.
A small thin dagger like object flew out of a wall hole and through the edge of the priestess’ robe. She wasn’t exactly on her spot.
“Stand on your spot!” They all shifted a couple inches. the dagger was sticking to something on the other side of a pillar, he couldn’t see it. They obviously could.
He didn’t know who the hell they were, but they were playing with fire being in this Room without understanding it.
The priestess was continuing her Ritual as she had learned it, she didn’t break stride at the dagger, but her face registered. She understood the implications. Finally.
There was still the fucking Blade on the table. He could feel at least 7 more small ones in the walls. He’d seen rooms that gyrated serrated walls of blades before. He hated Rooms. Rooms had a habit of activating when he was in them for any length of time. But once they started moving, it could kill everyone inside if it stopped before the sequence was finished.
What would they gain that they would risk this price by calling him here?
He flexed his reddish leathery wings and snorted as he inhaled in Real Life. The Axe was fully engorged with the Fire in his hand. He looked at it. They were calling someone. Stupid bitches. This would be Bad.
A tall beautiful Angel with a slightly cruel smile of benevolence appears. The Fucker of all Fuckers himself. Michael.
This would be REALLY bad.
Michael has his sword out, spitting out the words he thinks will give him power over me in this world. That is what the book has told him the words will do.
The book has set him up.
He reaches the end of the monolog. The witches say their short chant. They believe they are cheering their triumphant Knight of God as he vanquishes the greatest of Demons. That is what the book has told him.
They have spoken the words in their places, they have stood in the proper spaces, they have worn the proper clothes and faces. I have no choice you stupid cunts. Fuck. If you only understood what you had just said you would not have spoken. They had no idea what they were saying. The book had not been translated.
The words spit out of my mouth in 3 languages, only one of which I can partly hear, but I have no time to think.
He strikes with the sword of brilliant blue steel and yellow energy in his Right Hand, cutting a swath of chi across lines of magnetism carefully balanced. Balanced and Charged now with the Key.
Michael, the Right Hand of God. That is the aspect he calls with this Play.
He and his ladies have called me to take part in their Play, without asking.
My Part is Samael.
The Left Hand of God for 2 aeons as Gabriel was still an infant. Redeemer.
The Blade flies from the table, much faster than the dagger flew. On ancient fields of carefully placed magnetic stones it flips, as it was set to do. Waiting for the blue sword to be swung from this spot. The Blade could finally complete the Ritual the book had set in motion.
The young rich wizard who hopes to fill himself with power, falls much slower than his Right Hand holding the sword.
I spit out the remaining words as the Blade stops still for a few moments in the air, where my hand is grasping. I have never spoken them before, and hope to never speak them again. I do not know what they were. I was staring at the women, pissing themselves, too frightened to even budge from standing in their sacred “spot”. The Blade clatters to the ground with a sound much wetter than just metal.
They would not be able to help him anyway.
Tears streaming down my face, I see my Warder hack the cord completely.
I’m staring at the hand, and the bright blue sword, as I disconnect.
------
from:
http://serializednovel.wordpress.com/2012/05/04/book-4-michaels-right-hand/
Thursday, May 03, 2012
Crazy Shit and the strong smell of Bait
I wanted to clear something up.
You all know that Stephen Colbert guy right?
He's a CHARACTER.
A pseudonym, like Christuus Gnosis.
I have a few pseudonyms. They each have different characters.
In my readings about many of my personal favorite authors, musicians, and visual artists I read a lot of crap.
Especially if they had unpopular ideas, or they actually had OPINIONS about politics, spirituality, humanity, whatever else the lower classes shouldn't really bother themselves with.
Ad hominem and character assassination.
If you don't like what someone says, start looking for rocks and dirt to bury them with.
If you write it down in all those sneaky little administrative places, you might make people even believe it.
In the end, what other people say about you is where people will form their opinions, and the system is designed to entrench this.
So I'm going to clearly state something here, not because you give a shit. For the future.
I've never been crazy.
Honestly.
Never was schizophrenic, never was a junkie.
Did a few drugs like most normal humans and thought some interesting thoughts, lived through a lot of stress, but never did any serious evil drug habit. Never was paranoid, schizophrenic, delusional. Ever.
Never been diagnosed as such, and have been assessed by a minimum of 3 psychiatrists and given a clean bill of mental health. My memory and recall of events is clear and I have absolutely zero cognitive dysfunctions.
I've never met anyone at any time, even when I was EXTREMELY high, whom I actually thought was more intelligent or sane than myself during our interaction. Zero. Nada. Not a one. I don't care how straight edge of fanatically moral they were, they weren't more sane than I.
All reality is subjective, and my subjective experience and its interpretations take priority over representations being presented to me by another. You can quote me on that.
People who read about my life in the future will, I suspect, be presented with a number of "reports" filed by various "health care service providers" of this or that aspect of my life. They might even say I was part of this or that program and that I signed something for info or to prove enrollment.
Sorry. All bullshit. Honestly.
I know I sometimes LOOK pretty crazy, I got that nick nolte on a bender einstein on glue look sometimes, but other than being tired or a bit stoned, or maybe malnourished, the eyes are not actually indicative of the mental processes behind them.
That's my story, and I'm definitely sticking to it folks.
Please also note that this would apply to people asserting that I had been part of some form of recovery, or other behavioral modification bullshit reprogramming system.
Never. Honestly.
At my worst in my life I consumed 12 beers 5 days a week for about 4 years, my grandfather drank twice that till he croaked. I generally drink about 3-7 beers at a time about 15-20 days of the month. Lately its about 20 beers in the first 3 days of the month and less than 10 thereafter.
In Canada that is actually below normal consumption.
In most civilized countries that is a low consumption.
Never been to any rehab, AA, 12 step, or church sponsored outreach program. Never took part in or agreed to or participated in any "intervention". I still drink, smoke, toke, whatever. I've never stopped. Ever. I do not believe in involuntary behavioral modification, religiously motivated or otherwise. I think it should be illegal to coerce people into living according to clearly assigned societal norms. Regardless of your reasoning or possible "good intentions".
Free will and freedom of personal experiences. Screw your self limiting ideology. I'll mitigate myself as I see fit.
Zero. Other than hanging with some baptists once a month to get coffee and do laundry. No crosses or sermons so I don't think that counts. Just washing machines and muffins. No prayer before loading.
You might get a picture of me lighting incense at a buddhist temple altar. Never praying in a pew. Not since like, 11 years old or something. Atheism took hold at 13 for this cat.
I guarantee I will never convert to christianity. Ever. If anyone tries to sell you that shit about me you'll know for sure they've got some weird agenda going down. I dig jesus but I don't pray for him to hold my hand at night. I think jesus is cooler than the pope is. I honestly think the pope is a bit of a fucker, all of them, and they actually fuck up my buddy J.C.'s good reputation with a lot of their shit. Most people's interpretations of J.C. and his crew are pretty fucked up. Read some of mine. I have a few more coming soon.
Sorry, had to clear that up folks. People don't accept that doctors and "health care providers" can be bribed like other humans into writing shit about someone. Just like lawyers and judges.
So enjoy the frothy rantings and ravings,
it's got far more truthiness than is good for anybody.
And when "documents" that "prove" my madness appear after I'm dead,
perhaps someone will still think
to get it straight from the bastard's mouth himself.
And speaking of my reputation for being a filthy bastard.
There will be pictures of me with Bait. Lots of them.
I've had them send at least 5 obvious ones in the last 3 years.
There's probably more.
Done lots of talking with them.
Even flirting.
That's it. I usually tell them off in a pretty mean way after I spend about a month figuring out their trip.
There's always some fucked up trip involved.
They might have a picture of me sniffing it,
but I haven't eaten any of their Bait up to this point.
I would also add
there are probably a couple dozen young women in my neighborhood who would consider me a safe person to run to for assistance late at night. That would be the facts.
You all know that Stephen Colbert guy right?
He's a CHARACTER.
A pseudonym, like Christuus Gnosis.
I have a few pseudonyms. They each have different characters.
In my readings about many of my personal favorite authors, musicians, and visual artists I read a lot of crap.
Especially if they had unpopular ideas, or they actually had OPINIONS about politics, spirituality, humanity, whatever else the lower classes shouldn't really bother themselves with.
Ad hominem and character assassination.
If you don't like what someone says, start looking for rocks and dirt to bury them with.
If you write it down in all those sneaky little administrative places, you might make people even believe it.
In the end, what other people say about you is where people will form their opinions, and the system is designed to entrench this.
So I'm going to clearly state something here, not because you give a shit. For the future.
I've never been crazy.
Honestly.
Never was schizophrenic, never was a junkie.
Did a few drugs like most normal humans and thought some interesting thoughts, lived through a lot of stress, but never did any serious evil drug habit. Never was paranoid, schizophrenic, delusional. Ever.
Never been diagnosed as such, and have been assessed by a minimum of 3 psychiatrists and given a clean bill of mental health. My memory and recall of events is clear and I have absolutely zero cognitive dysfunctions.
I've never met anyone at any time, even when I was EXTREMELY high, whom I actually thought was more intelligent or sane than myself during our interaction. Zero. Nada. Not a one. I don't care how straight edge of fanatically moral they were, they weren't more sane than I.
All reality is subjective, and my subjective experience and its interpretations take priority over representations being presented to me by another. You can quote me on that.
People who read about my life in the future will, I suspect, be presented with a number of "reports" filed by various "health care service providers" of this or that aspect of my life. They might even say I was part of this or that program and that I signed something for info or to prove enrollment.
Sorry. All bullshit. Honestly.
I know I sometimes LOOK pretty crazy, I got that nick nolte on a bender einstein on glue look sometimes, but other than being tired or a bit stoned, or maybe malnourished, the eyes are not actually indicative of the mental processes behind them.
That's my story, and I'm definitely sticking to it folks.
Please also note that this would apply to people asserting that I had been part of some form of recovery, or other behavioral modification bullshit reprogramming system.
Never. Honestly.
At my worst in my life I consumed 12 beers 5 days a week for about 4 years, my grandfather drank twice that till he croaked. I generally drink about 3-7 beers at a time about 15-20 days of the month. Lately its about 20 beers in the first 3 days of the month and less than 10 thereafter.
In Canada that is actually below normal consumption.
In most civilized countries that is a low consumption.
Never been to any rehab, AA, 12 step, or church sponsored outreach program. Never took part in or agreed to or participated in any "intervention". I still drink, smoke, toke, whatever. I've never stopped. Ever. I do not believe in involuntary behavioral modification, religiously motivated or otherwise. I think it should be illegal to coerce people into living according to clearly assigned societal norms. Regardless of your reasoning or possible "good intentions".
Free will and freedom of personal experiences. Screw your self limiting ideology. I'll mitigate myself as I see fit.
Zero. Other than hanging with some baptists once a month to get coffee and do laundry. No crosses or sermons so I don't think that counts. Just washing machines and muffins. No prayer before loading.
You might get a picture of me lighting incense at a buddhist temple altar. Never praying in a pew. Not since like, 11 years old or something. Atheism took hold at 13 for this cat.
I guarantee I will never convert to christianity. Ever. If anyone tries to sell you that shit about me you'll know for sure they've got some weird agenda going down. I dig jesus but I don't pray for him to hold my hand at night. I think jesus is cooler than the pope is. I honestly think the pope is a bit of a fucker, all of them, and they actually fuck up my buddy J.C.'s good reputation with a lot of their shit. Most people's interpretations of J.C. and his crew are pretty fucked up. Read some of mine. I have a few more coming soon.
Sorry, had to clear that up folks. People don't accept that doctors and "health care providers" can be bribed like other humans into writing shit about someone. Just like lawyers and judges.
So enjoy the frothy rantings and ravings,
it's got far more truthiness than is good for anybody.
And when "documents" that "prove" my madness appear after I'm dead,
perhaps someone will still think
to get it straight from the bastard's mouth himself.
And speaking of my reputation for being a filthy bastard.
There will be pictures of me with Bait. Lots of them.
I've had them send at least 5 obvious ones in the last 3 years.
There's probably more.
Done lots of talking with them.
Even flirting.
That's it. I usually tell them off in a pretty mean way after I spend about a month figuring out their trip.
There's always some fucked up trip involved.
They might have a picture of me sniffing it,
but I haven't eaten any of their Bait up to this point.
I would also add
there are probably a couple dozen young women in my neighborhood who would consider me a safe person to run to for assistance late at night. That would be the facts.
Wednesday, May 02, 2012
Intersex is NOT "trans" you FUCKING FAKE CUNT.
This is an open letter to Patti Zettel and her employer, the Ravensong Clinic.
(a proud member institution of BC's T4 program)
I was born with a genetic condition called intersexuality.
After having 8 different general physicians with zero knowledge of the condition mock me, and many more nurses as well, I find that there is a doctor who actually knows what I am talking about and is educated in former and current policies of the Canadian government, provincial governments, and assorted medical bodies towards intersex people. He's fully aware of a 50 year history of genocide backed up by policy.
Unfortunately, every time I try to make an appointment with this doctor, I am blocked by a trangender nurse named Patti Zettel.
Trangender means that Patti was born with a dick. She didn't have tits. She was born in Germany I believe. Somewhere in "her" 20's she decided that "she" had been born in the wrong gender and "she" had her dick flipped inside out and tucked up inside to resemble a vagina. She also had a boob job and takes estrogen regularly. She went through a couple of years of psychiatric counseling before she could have her FAKE CUNT constructed from her fucking dick.
Excuse me FAKE CUNT. And my apologies to my friends who are transgender.
But this FAKE FUCKING CUNT keeps calling me a nigger so I'm doing that to her right now.
Yes you heard me right I said nigger, and I'm apologizes to my black friends too.
Because I'm offended when someone calls me transgender. BECAUSE I AM NOT.
And I personally believe that Patti Zettel should have NOTHING to do with anyone's treatment or care.
I DON"T HAVE OR WANT A FAKE CUNT PATTI SO STOP USING THE WORD TRANS WHEN I CALL OR GO TO YOUR FUCKING CLINIC YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE PRICK BASTARD WHO PRETENDS TO BE A WOMAN BECAUSE YOU GET MORE BITCHES THAN YOU DID AS A MAN.
You fuck.
I'm Intersex. I need a specialist and I will not tolerate your institution or its members calling me by a non applicable LABEL you fucking bitch thing.
You've delayed my care for over a year you fucking bitch cunt thing.
I will sue you and your employer for $10,000 every fucking time you or one of your co workers uses the incorrect label of trans on me.
I need a doctor.
KEEP YOUR FUCKING TRANS LABEL SHIT TO YOURSELF YOU FAKE BITCH CUNT THING.
I'd include the College of Physicians and Vancouver Coastal health in my rant.
But I have a separate open letter for each of them.
Vancouver Pride needs to acknowledge Intersex people.
Everyone else gets a letter "LGBTTQ" so add a fucking "I" already.
Intersex is genetic and developmental, trans is mental.
Am I being clear? Is this mike working? Testing testing. Are you getting it?
Fucking bitch.
Call me trans to my face and I will call you cunt to your face out loud with a big smile on. How does that sound? Do YOU like that?
(a proud member institution of BC's T4 program)
I was born with a genetic condition called intersexuality.
After having 8 different general physicians with zero knowledge of the condition mock me, and many more nurses as well, I find that there is a doctor who actually knows what I am talking about and is educated in former and current policies of the Canadian government, provincial governments, and assorted medical bodies towards intersex people. He's fully aware of a 50 year history of genocide backed up by policy.
Unfortunately, every time I try to make an appointment with this doctor, I am blocked by a trangender nurse named Patti Zettel.
Trangender means that Patti was born with a dick. She didn't have tits. She was born in Germany I believe. Somewhere in "her" 20's she decided that "she" had been born in the wrong gender and "she" had her dick flipped inside out and tucked up inside to resemble a vagina. She also had a boob job and takes estrogen regularly. She went through a couple of years of psychiatric counseling before she could have her FAKE CUNT constructed from her fucking dick.
Excuse me FAKE CUNT. And my apologies to my friends who are transgender.
But this FAKE FUCKING CUNT keeps calling me a nigger so I'm doing that to her right now.
Yes you heard me right I said nigger, and I'm apologizes to my black friends too.
Because I'm offended when someone calls me transgender. BECAUSE I AM NOT.
And I personally believe that Patti Zettel should have NOTHING to do with anyone's treatment or care.
I DON"T HAVE OR WANT A FAKE CUNT PATTI SO STOP USING THE WORD TRANS WHEN I CALL OR GO TO YOUR FUCKING CLINIC YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE PRICK BASTARD WHO PRETENDS TO BE A WOMAN BECAUSE YOU GET MORE BITCHES THAN YOU DID AS A MAN.
You fuck.
I'm Intersex. I need a specialist and I will not tolerate your institution or its members calling me by a non applicable LABEL you fucking bitch thing.
You've delayed my care for over a year you fucking bitch cunt thing.
I will sue you and your employer for $10,000 every fucking time you or one of your co workers uses the incorrect label of trans on me.
I need a doctor.
KEEP YOUR FUCKING TRANS LABEL SHIT TO YOURSELF YOU FAKE BITCH CUNT THING.
I'd include the College of Physicians and Vancouver Coastal health in my rant.
But I have a separate open letter for each of them.
Vancouver Pride needs to acknowledge Intersex people.
Everyone else gets a letter "LGBTTQ" so add a fucking "I" already.
Intersex is genetic and developmental, trans is mental.
Am I being clear? Is this mike working? Testing testing. Are you getting it?
Fucking bitch.
Call me trans to my face and I will call you cunt to your face out loud with a big smile on. How does that sound? Do YOU like that?
Killer kindness: charities that rob and kill our communities and their members
About a decade ago I remember reading about a huge scam that had
become the number one money generating fraud system in the former soviet
union. Basically all these ex-commie mafia types had taken their drug
money, and needing to launder it the had created a bunch of legitimate
businesses. They started using charities since that was the best way to
launder money, and through their control of charities they began to take
control of institutionalized people, the elderly and mentally ill.
Wow. Kapow. Shazaam. The money pot lands in front of them.
Just like a church they realized that all they had to do was keep these people happy, drugged, fed, and institutionalized, and if they just pretended to be fine upstanding businesses, they would get their charity tax write-offs and an added bonus as well. Power of Attorney over some of the clients in their care.
Of course, once they obtained a will giving the inheritance to the caregiver company, it didn't make sense to keep the people alive more than a few years more. Just enough to make it look good. But that was easy, since they had total control over their clients lives and property by then.
Once they realized how much money they could make while simultaneously making themselves look like wonderful charitable people, they began to actively create targets in their communities. Then they even expanded it, by creating franchises in areas containing certain ethnic or ideological groups.
The scam was worth more than the drug trade! And then the government money started pouring in.
Once the government got involved, it fell apart of course, but it never really disappears since its so lucrative, and the government is always willing to find service providers who can show them an increase in people on the left being institutionalized. Once the organizations themselves became part of the institutionalization process they never had any problem getting clients.
And other organizations began emulating them, seeing how easy it was to legitimately commit identity theft by making the client compliant and docile. Senile crazy puppets sucked dry by vampires.
Then they began to see a another usefulness. They could use the more violent and aggressive of these clients to terrorize the local community. Because they were "helping people" everyone would allow it to continue. The power of these institutions to affect negative outcomes on surrounding communities creates a useful tool for real estate price fixing and development.
You rob and kill the old ones by driving them crazy then "giving them a helping safe environment" to die peacefully in, and you concentrate and distribute drugs to the dangerous mental patients which then go out after breakfast at your facility and walk down the street begging and creating havoc until they reach teh liquor store, mix some of that with their meds, then proceed to find things to steal and sell for more drugs, get caught, cry "I'm an addict", the intitution steps in, the person is back on the street.
Then there came an even greater benefit.
You see, if you rip someone off, someone who isn't crazy, if you are the owner of several institutions then you have several places where you can enter information to make sure that the non existent fraud investigation team in your country will never take the person seriously.
They learned the techniques from the catholics actually....they used it against any enemy of the church, but also took targets from rich families and government.
If you want an example to look at, try here:
The Kettle "Friendship" Society.
Looks awesome on the surface. Spews 20 jacked up shitheads out on the drive every morning after filling them up with food and caffeine. Their clients have poisoned a number of dogs in the area, terrorize residents, get completely drunk and high on crack in public, beg up and down the street, steal, and then go back for lunch and get their meds. Half of their "clients" are ex-cons being fed for their community destruction efforts, and the other half are nice people that were robbed or are in the process of having their property absorbed by the corporation that feeds them a cafeteria tray of donated slop.
And its owned by the same gangsters that own half of everything else here.
The helping hands of killer charities. And Puppet Minister Harper would throw people in jail for a couple joints if he could, after doing the ribbon cutting ceremony for an evil scam like this.
What a fucking world.
Wow. Kapow. Shazaam. The money pot lands in front of them.
Just like a church they realized that all they had to do was keep these people happy, drugged, fed, and institutionalized, and if they just pretended to be fine upstanding businesses, they would get their charity tax write-offs and an added bonus as well. Power of Attorney over some of the clients in their care.
Of course, once they obtained a will giving the inheritance to the caregiver company, it didn't make sense to keep the people alive more than a few years more. Just enough to make it look good. But that was easy, since they had total control over their clients lives and property by then.
Once they realized how much money they could make while simultaneously making themselves look like wonderful charitable people, they began to actively create targets in their communities. Then they even expanded it, by creating franchises in areas containing certain ethnic or ideological groups.
The scam was worth more than the drug trade! And then the government money started pouring in.
Once the government got involved, it fell apart of course, but it never really disappears since its so lucrative, and the government is always willing to find service providers who can show them an increase in people on the left being institutionalized. Once the organizations themselves became part of the institutionalization process they never had any problem getting clients.
And other organizations began emulating them, seeing how easy it was to legitimately commit identity theft by making the client compliant and docile. Senile crazy puppets sucked dry by vampires.
Then they began to see a another usefulness. They could use the more violent and aggressive of these clients to terrorize the local community. Because they were "helping people" everyone would allow it to continue. The power of these institutions to affect negative outcomes on surrounding communities creates a useful tool for real estate price fixing and development.
You rob and kill the old ones by driving them crazy then "giving them a helping safe environment" to die peacefully in, and you concentrate and distribute drugs to the dangerous mental patients which then go out after breakfast at your facility and walk down the street begging and creating havoc until they reach teh liquor store, mix some of that with their meds, then proceed to find things to steal and sell for more drugs, get caught, cry "I'm an addict", the intitution steps in, the person is back on the street.
Then there came an even greater benefit.
You see, if you rip someone off, someone who isn't crazy, if you are the owner of several institutions then you have several places where you can enter information to make sure that the non existent fraud investigation team in your country will never take the person seriously.
They learned the techniques from the catholics actually....they used it against any enemy of the church, but also took targets from rich families and government.
If you want an example to look at, try here:
The Kettle "Friendship" Society.
Looks awesome on the surface. Spews 20 jacked up shitheads out on the drive every morning after filling them up with food and caffeine. Their clients have poisoned a number of dogs in the area, terrorize residents, get completely drunk and high on crack in public, beg up and down the street, steal, and then go back for lunch and get their meds. Half of their "clients" are ex-cons being fed for their community destruction efforts, and the other half are nice people that were robbed or are in the process of having their property absorbed by the corporation that feeds them a cafeteria tray of donated slop.
And its owned by the same gangsters that own half of everything else here.
The helping hands of killer charities. And Puppet Minister Harper would throw people in jail for a couple joints if he could, after doing the ribbon cutting ceremony for an evil scam like this.
What a fucking world.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
May 1 - Mayday, Bealtane, Walpurgis, and the Christianization/Secularization of the Holiday
Mayday,
Bealtane,
Walpurgis,
For thousands of years humans have celebrated at the end of winter, and everyone comes out in early may for 2 weeks and eats the last food from the cellars. They roast a spring animal or two to feast. The last ofthe winter beer comes out. Young people who are looking for love think of their lover as they twirl their ribbon round the may-pole in a community ritual and those who wish to HANDFAST make their wishes known to the community.
The christians want to tie people together for life, which is a control scheme, christian marriage. Handfasting is one of christianities greatest enemies, because more than two people can handfast together, and they are only bound for until the love lasts. They aren't bound forever and their property is not bound togeter, which is the purpose of christian marriage, the binding and theft of beliefs, rights and property.
So anyway, this is a good time to handfast. And there are far fewer restrictions, because it isn't considered a marriage by any christianized government administration in canada. Handfasting is strictly about LOVE not anything else, so people who love each other make vows in front of their friends, who are generally ok with most partnerships where two (or more) people of freewill can dedicate themselves to each other in a communal situation.
Bindings that pious christians would disapprove of for whatever reason can occur in handfasts as long as the people who are going to tie the mates hands together can accept it and walk up to them and tie them together, then it works. Many people write wishes for the lovers on the ribbons before they tie their hands.
50 ribbons is 50 people acknowledging the binding of the lovers.
The maypole is the absent or wished-for lover as one of its symbolisms. Tying a ribbon to it can be a spell to visualize and project your love.
The full moon nearest to may 1st is the actual important time. Its the christians who like solar dates in stone, pagans are more interested in celebrating while the moon is full.
Why the moon is more important is obviously too big of a topic for here. But consider that you are a bag of water (80%) with a bit of other material in the meat. So when the rock and stone of the earth gets elongated and ovoided by the travel of the moon, so does the water in your body sac. Its also a deep hereditary racial memory common to almost all humans to get goopy about the full moon, so that's reason enough for it.
It is a common time for etheric/astral travel of various humans practicing their succubi routines too.
Later the christians would demonize mayday as a time of "human sacrifice", which it really wasn't, but it was a good story to keep scared parishioners away from the pagan parties where they might get drunk and fuck someone who they weren't married to. Which is fine to a pagan, as long as your mate is cool with it.
This is the time when all the little witchies should be sending their spirit forms about, trying to find their mate through etheric spirit communication before they consumate in body. Or finding lovers in the dark in the woods. Lots of fertility rites. Damn fornicators. 8P
Most people get it wrong, but pagans are a lot less about orgies than people think. They just like fucking their mate or lover in a space where everyone can see their friends fucking each other. Even pagans get the idea that everyone fucking everyone leads to everyone getting herpes or worse.
They are generally an observant group of people, if maybe a little too trusting.
I was always more interested in the barbecue. Mmmm. See that's where the sacrifice stories come from. Really they just had a barbecue, but they all had a big prayer for the cow/goat/chicken first so the christians called it a sacrifice. It was a feast. The killing of the meat was a central part of the event because that's what everyone was going to eat for the next 3 days.
Anyways, this is the two week period of Bealtaine, so work yourself up into a frenzy for the full moon,
and watch out for the Christians, who will always try to jack your party.
If you want to participate in the Wild Hunt
You should get a little drunk and meditate on the full moon
Just so you know, you don't actually go running around, its an etheric travel thing.
Try it!
You might like it.
Any Pretty little kinkster witchies out there who are well off enough to drag the hobo wizard around?
8P
Notice how the two most important Pagan celebrations, Bealtaine and Samhain, don't have public holidays? And their are christian and secular holidays almost immediately before and after?
Its to keep people from celebrating on THEIR special spiritual time.
The administrative burning of the witches.
Watch out for GHB on May Day. Its the number one tool of the christians against pagans right now. No VPD officer will ever investigate the GHB rape of a pagan. Seriously. That's why there is so much of it. It only costs $10 to buy a dose of liquid rape in Vancouver, and there are litres of it ready to be used against you all with impunity. The best thing pagans can do for themselves as a group is by some of those GHB detection strips. Personally I think they should be freely available from the VPD, but they wouldrather turn their heads and pretend there isn't any GHB being used against you. Really, you weren't drugged, you're just a witchy slut right?
Real pagans like to drink, and even use entheogens, but passing around bottles with GHB in it is really rape. IMHO. And if you can't remember your "ritual" there isn't a lot of point in pretending its important to you.
One last warning: where you have your "rituals" can be fatal to you! I've seen a couple of large witch/pagan groups disbanded simply because they rented a hall that was run by christianized gangster rednecks. In less than 3 years their numbers halved. They were identified and targeted after their parties in the hall by gangs using the surveillance footage from the hall's security and the guestbook information. They never realized until it was too late that there was a reason those people offered them the hall so cheap. They were attacked one at a time and never realized that it was their own belief that they would be treated equally in todays society that they were able to be divided.
Bealtane,
Walpurgis,
For thousands of years humans have celebrated at the end of winter, and everyone comes out in early may for 2 weeks and eats the last food from the cellars. They roast a spring animal or two to feast. The last ofthe winter beer comes out. Young people who are looking for love think of their lover as they twirl their ribbon round the may-pole in a community ritual and those who wish to HANDFAST make their wishes known to the community.
The christians want to tie people together for life, which is a control scheme, christian marriage. Handfasting is one of christianities greatest enemies, because more than two people can handfast together, and they are only bound for until the love lasts. They aren't bound forever and their property is not bound togeter, which is the purpose of christian marriage, the binding and theft of beliefs, rights and property.
So anyway, this is a good time to handfast. And there are far fewer restrictions, because it isn't considered a marriage by any christianized government administration in canada. Handfasting is strictly about LOVE not anything else, so people who love each other make vows in front of their friends, who are generally ok with most partnerships where two (or more) people of freewill can dedicate themselves to each other in a communal situation.
Bindings that pious christians would disapprove of for whatever reason can occur in handfasts as long as the people who are going to tie the mates hands together can accept it and walk up to them and tie them together, then it works. Many people write wishes for the lovers on the ribbons before they tie their hands.
50 ribbons is 50 people acknowledging the binding of the lovers.
The maypole is the absent or wished-for lover as one of its symbolisms. Tying a ribbon to it can be a spell to visualize and project your love.
The full moon nearest to may 1st is the actual important time. Its the christians who like solar dates in stone, pagans are more interested in celebrating while the moon is full.
Why the moon is more important is obviously too big of a topic for here. But consider that you are a bag of water (80%) with a bit of other material in the meat. So when the rock and stone of the earth gets elongated and ovoided by the travel of the moon, so does the water in your body sac. Its also a deep hereditary racial memory common to almost all humans to get goopy about the full moon, so that's reason enough for it.
It is a common time for etheric/astral travel of various humans practicing their succubi routines too.
Later the christians would demonize mayday as a time of "human sacrifice", which it really wasn't, but it was a good story to keep scared parishioners away from the pagan parties where they might get drunk and fuck someone who they weren't married to. Which is fine to a pagan, as long as your mate is cool with it.
This is the time when all the little witchies should be sending their spirit forms about, trying to find their mate through etheric spirit communication before they consumate in body. Or finding lovers in the dark in the woods. Lots of fertility rites. Damn fornicators. 8P
Most people get it wrong, but pagans are a lot less about orgies than people think. They just like fucking their mate or lover in a space where everyone can see their friends fucking each other. Even pagans get the idea that everyone fucking everyone leads to everyone getting herpes or worse.
They are generally an observant group of people, if maybe a little too trusting.
I was always more interested in the barbecue. Mmmm. See that's where the sacrifice stories come from. Really they just had a barbecue, but they all had a big prayer for the cow/goat/chicken first so the christians called it a sacrifice. It was a feast. The killing of the meat was a central part of the event because that's what everyone was going to eat for the next 3 days.
Anyways, this is the two week period of Bealtaine, so work yourself up into a frenzy for the full moon,
and watch out for the Christians, who will always try to jack your party.
If you want to participate in the Wild Hunt
You should get a little drunk and meditate on the full moon
Just so you know, you don't actually go running around, its an etheric travel thing.
Try it!
You might like it.
Any Pretty little kinkster witchies out there who are well off enough to drag the hobo wizard around?
8P
Notice how the two most important Pagan celebrations, Bealtaine and Samhain, don't have public holidays? And their are christian and secular holidays almost immediately before and after?
Its to keep people from celebrating on THEIR special spiritual time.
The administrative burning of the witches.
Watch out for GHB on May Day. Its the number one tool of the christians against pagans right now. No VPD officer will ever investigate the GHB rape of a pagan. Seriously. That's why there is so much of it. It only costs $10 to buy a dose of liquid rape in Vancouver, and there are litres of it ready to be used against you all with impunity. The best thing pagans can do for themselves as a group is by some of those GHB detection strips. Personally I think they should be freely available from the VPD, but they wouldrather turn their heads and pretend there isn't any GHB being used against you. Really, you weren't drugged, you're just a witchy slut right?
Real pagans like to drink, and even use entheogens, but passing around bottles with GHB in it is really rape. IMHO. And if you can't remember your "ritual" there isn't a lot of point in pretending its important to you.
One last warning: where you have your "rituals" can be fatal to you! I've seen a couple of large witch/pagan groups disbanded simply because they rented a hall that was run by christianized gangster rednecks. In less than 3 years their numbers halved. They were identified and targeted after their parties in the hall by gangs using the surveillance footage from the hall's security and the guestbook information. They never realized until it was too late that there was a reason those people offered them the hall so cheap. They were attacked one at a time and never realized that it was their own belief that they would be treated equally in todays society that they were able to be divided.
- Johfra Bosschart "sabbath"
You might notice I haven't mentioned any specific deity or deities associated with May 1.
Because there are deities from every culture and belief connected with spring rites and festivals, so take your pick or just enjoy the feast without one.
Because there are deities from every culture and belief connected with spring rites and festivals, so take your pick or just enjoy the feast without one.
All pagans don't necessarily have deities, and those that do often have wildly differing ones.
Optimistic Responses for Happy-Fags, well off Slaves and fake "Christians"
How are You today?
I'm not so great. But you don't want to hear that.
Its easier to believe I deserve this.
You actually have no interest in talking to me
and your opinions drain me
your mind is actually very small
and I do not have time any longer
to pretend
When you are robbed of what you have
I will not
be able to care
either
divided we were
conquered
So have a good fucking day
and fuck off with your fake shit
keep your plastic smile
to yourself
fucker.
Just fuck right off
and snuffle back to the trough
I'm not so great. But you don't want to hear that.
Its easier to believe I deserve this.
You actually have no interest in talking to me
and your opinions drain me
your mind is actually very small
and I do not have time any longer
to pretend
When you are robbed of what you have
I will not
be able to care
either
divided we were
conquered
So have a good fucking day
and fuck off with your fake shit
keep your plastic smile
to yourself
fucker.
Just fuck right off
and snuffle back to the trough
Conduit
Try this
You have a partner
someone you've made love to before
put another lover between yourselves
and try to touch each other
through
them
Here's an interesting question for you to ponder.
Are all threesomes "queer"?
I mean, if you have a threesome, there is automatically 2 people of the same sex in the menage.
So if 2 guys make out with one girl at the same time, how come its not considered homoerotic?
I mean, obviously in 2 hours in bed there is no way that one boys balls are goin to touch the other boys skin.
etc.
That's why pagans focus on the threesomes.
It breaks up the christianized thinking about lovers and bodies and "sin".
It also strengthens and expands our ability to empathize and communicate.
Just choose carefully. There's lot's of herpes in the pagan and witchy communities. It gets used as a weapon back and forth.
You have a partner
someone you've made love to before
put another lover between yourselves
and try to touch each other
through
them
- Celtic - Gaulish
Are all threesomes "queer"?
I mean, if you have a threesome, there is automatically 2 people of the same sex in the menage.
So if 2 guys make out with one girl at the same time, how come its not considered homoerotic?
I mean, obviously in 2 hours in bed there is no way that one boys balls are goin to touch the other boys skin.
etc.
That's why pagans focus on the threesomes.
It breaks up the christianized thinking about lovers and bodies and "sin".
It also strengthens and expands our ability to empathize and communicate.
Just choose carefully. There's lot's of herpes in the pagan and witchy communities. It gets used as a weapon back and forth.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
serializednovel.wordpress.com - The Fist
I'm really trying to plug my serialized novels blog.
I have 3 novels going at once, and a page for short unsorted stories.
I have only managed to snag 12 homo sapiens to peruse it so far.
Help. Please. I'm getting performance anxiety. I equate web page hits with phallic ego obsession.
=P
24 chapters across 3 books so far. 15 chapters of Space Tunnel to Asslandia.
Here is chapter 2 from book one whose working title is:
The Lo-Tech Hobo Hero and the Mysterious Conspiracy of Evil Killer Shits
The Fist
He could remember when he had found the Fist, yet he could not remember exactly when.
He remembered a time when he did not have it. Even five years ago he couldn’t remember having it.
Drunk, he was meditating. Smoking a spliff. He had the tibetan zim incense he’d splurged four bucks on and four cans of hi test left. He’d already polished off two tall cans of 8% before he’d started the six-pack. Just the way he liked it. Fuck asceticism.
In the other way of seeing he is not in a room smaller than a jail cell with no furniture, sitting on the floor, smoke curling up.
There, he is standing. It is a field. A battlefield. Bodies everywhere. Armour. Shields. Nothing is moving. The blood is dry. There are no carrion feeders or smoke. Two banners across the field hang limply down with no wind to move them. The sun is obscured by a reddish overcast extending to dark grey. His hair is very long, with string intricately woven on the ends of something like thin dreadlocks, dirty blonde.
The Fist is on his right hand. Nothing else moves as he pans his view. Rolling hills. Unfamiliar grass. He doesn’t recognize any markings. He has never been to this place in his real life, but who he is here, standing, has lived his whole life there. There is a hammer made of stone and carved wood leaning against his leg, head on the ground. There is no blood on the Hammer. He clenches the Fist and looks at it. The Fist mourns as much as he does, but he is hard, not weeping. Dry. Like the blood.
Then he is sitting in his room again, reaching for another beer. There are tears on his face, streaming into his mouth.
The Fist remains, invisible
I have 3 novels going at once, and a page for short unsorted stories.
I have only managed to snag 12 homo sapiens to peruse it so far.
Help. Please. I'm getting performance anxiety. I equate web page hits with phallic ego obsession.
=P
24 chapters across 3 books so far. 15 chapters of Space Tunnel to Asslandia.
Here is chapter 2 from book one whose working title is:
The Lo-Tech Hobo Hero and the Mysterious Conspiracy of Evil Killer Shits
The Fist
He could remember when he had found the Fist, yet he could not remember exactly when.
He remembered a time when he did not have it. Even five years ago he couldn’t remember having it.
Drunk, he was meditating. Smoking a spliff. He had the tibetan zim incense he’d splurged four bucks on and four cans of hi test left. He’d already polished off two tall cans of 8% before he’d started the six-pack. Just the way he liked it. Fuck asceticism.
In the other way of seeing he is not in a room smaller than a jail cell with no furniture, sitting on the floor, smoke curling up.
There, he is standing. It is a field. A battlefield. Bodies everywhere. Armour. Shields. Nothing is moving. The blood is dry. There are no carrion feeders or smoke. Two banners across the field hang limply down with no wind to move them. The sun is obscured by a reddish overcast extending to dark grey. His hair is very long, with string intricately woven on the ends of something like thin dreadlocks, dirty blonde.
The Fist is on his right hand. Nothing else moves as he pans his view. Rolling hills. Unfamiliar grass. He doesn’t recognize any markings. He has never been to this place in his real life, but who he is here, standing, has lived his whole life there. There is a hammer made of stone and carved wood leaning against his leg, head on the ground. There is no blood on the Hammer. He clenches the Fist and looks at it. The Fist mourns as much as he does, but he is hard, not weeping. Dry. Like the blood.
Then he is sitting in his room again, reaching for another beer. There are tears on his face, streaming into his mouth.
The Fist remains, invisible
The Christuus Gnosis Tarot Reference
I have a really great tarot reference I created using a number of decks in a massive orphalese tarot torrent.
I put my 8 favourite decks in an html table with the rider waite meanings. Its pretty sweet, but I haven't converted it to any other format, like doc or pdf, because it was made for viewing on the laptop. You need to use the browser scrolling and zooming for it to work for you, so I made it in dreamweaver.
If you want a copy and your email can take 39 meg attachments let me know and I'll send it to you.
This link MIGHT work. If it does, let me know.
This link MIGHT work. If it does, let me know.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Innate Bisexuality and Heteronormativity - wikipedia wanderings
Innate bisexuality (or predisposition to bisexuality) is a term introduced by Sigmund Freud (based on work by his associate Wilhelm Fliess), that expounds all humans are born bisexual but through psychological development (which includes both external and internal factors) become monosexual while the bisexuality remains in a latent state.
Personally I only like about a 3rd of Freud's work. But I have always believed similarly to him about this. Since I was like 13. Straight and gay are christianized restrictions on our human sexualities. They are part of a larger christianized sexual cultural bias.
Heteronormativity is a term invented in 1991 to describe any of a set of lifestyle norms that hold that people fall into distinct and complementary genders (man and woman) with natural roles in life. It also holds that heterosexuality is the normal sexual orientation, and states that sexual and marital relations are most (or only) fitting between a man and a woman. Consequently, a "heteronormative" view is one that involves alignment of biological sex, sexuality, gender identity, and gender roles.[1]
Monosexism is a term used to refer to beliefs, structures, and actions that promote monosexuality (either exclusive heterosexuality and/or homosexuality) as the only legitimate or right sexual orientation, excluding bisexual, asexual, pansexual, or polysexual orientations
Both gay and straight people who engage in bisexual erasure may claim that bisexuals are actually closeted homosexual people who wish to appear heterosexual,[11] or conversely that bisexuals are heterosexuals who are experimenting with their sexuality.[12][13][14]
A common manifestation of bisexual erasure is a tendency for bisexuals to be referred to as heterosexual when they are intimately involved with people of the opposite sex, and to be labeled as homosexual when they are involved with people of the same sex. Bisexual erasure or bisexual invisibility is the tendency to ignore, remove, falsify, or reexplain evidence of bisexuality in history, academia, the news media, and other primary sources.[1][2] In its most extreme form, bisexual erasure can include denying that bisexuality exists.[3][4] It is often a manifestation of biphobia, although it does not necessarily involve overt antagonism. The unique discrimination faced by bisexuals include those who say bisexuals, genderqueers and pansexuals are unsure of their true feelings, that they are experimenting or going through a "phase" and that they eventually will or should "decide" or "discover" which sex they are attracted to.[2][3][4] While other non-heterosexual orientations may face similar situations these instances are more commonly directed to the bisexual community.
Personally I only like about a 3rd of Freud's work. But I have always believed similarly to him about this. Since I was like 13. Straight and gay are christianized restrictions on our human sexualities. They are part of a larger christianized sexual cultural bias.
Heteronormativity is a term invented in 1991 to describe any of a set of lifestyle norms that hold that people fall into distinct and complementary genders (man and woman) with natural roles in life. It also holds that heterosexuality is the normal sexual orientation, and states that sexual and marital relations are most (or only) fitting between a man and a woman. Consequently, a "heteronormative" view is one that involves alignment of biological sex, sexuality, gender identity, and gender roles.[1]
Monosexism is a term used to refer to beliefs, structures, and actions that promote monosexuality (either exclusive heterosexuality and/or homosexuality) as the only legitimate or right sexual orientation, excluding bisexual, asexual, pansexual, or polysexual orientations
Both gay and straight people who engage in bisexual erasure may claim that bisexuals are actually closeted homosexual people who wish to appear heterosexual,[11] or conversely that bisexuals are heterosexuals who are experimenting with their sexuality.[12][13][14]
A common manifestation of bisexual erasure is a tendency for bisexuals to be referred to as heterosexual when they are intimately involved with people of the opposite sex, and to be labeled as homosexual when they are involved with people of the same sex. Bisexual erasure or bisexual invisibility is the tendency to ignore, remove, falsify, or reexplain evidence of bisexuality in history, academia, the news media, and other primary sources.[1][2] In its most extreme form, bisexual erasure can include denying that bisexuality exists.[3][4] It is often a manifestation of biphobia, although it does not necessarily involve overt antagonism. The unique discrimination faced by bisexuals include those who say bisexuals, genderqueers and pansexuals are unsure of their true feelings, that they are experimenting or going through a "phase" and that they eventually will or should "decide" or "discover" which sex they are attracted to.[2][3][4] While other non-heterosexual orientations may face similar situations these instances are more commonly directed to the bisexual community.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Snakes on a Plane, Hobo with a Shotgun - now: Faggot with a Revolver!
I thought up a new film idea.
Faggot with a Revolver.
Its one of those ultraviolent revenge flicks.
It starts out with a little skinny girly boy flamer whose big bear boyfriend gets beat up and robbed by a gang of rednecks.
So little flamer boy does a Taxi Driver and uses his savings to get guns.
All kinds of hilarious sequences ensue where girly boy learns how to clean his guns and use them.
He enlists his super girly fag friends to help him as bait for the thugs.
Then he uses kidnapping and torture to track down all the homo haters who beat his boyfriend up.
Buckets of fake blood pour out as he castrates each of the rednecks.
Sometimes before they are dead, sometimes after.
Lots of frightened conversations between the hunted rednecks as the homo boy racks up their buddies and they all talk about how horrifying it is to be buried with no balls.
I swear it'll be a blockbuster, complete with copycat killings!
At the end he creates a clubhouse and forms a huge gang with hundreds of queers and they take over all the businesses owned by the redneck crime syndicate that was attacking them. In the end, the patrons are all glad the previous owners are gone and the straights and queers have a big party and live happily until the sequel when more rednecks show up and they have a mass battle between rednecks and queers with everyone on harleys (queers included) and bullets flying everywhere. The flamer boy who starts it all gets a grand 5 minute death scene full of DRAMA then gets a hero's burial by the queers who then have a statue made of him.
What do you think? Snazzy eh?
Faggot with a Revolver.
Its one of those ultraviolent revenge flicks.
It starts out with a little skinny girly boy flamer whose big bear boyfriend gets beat up and robbed by a gang of rednecks.
So little flamer boy does a Taxi Driver and uses his savings to get guns.
All kinds of hilarious sequences ensue where girly boy learns how to clean his guns and use them.
He enlists his super girly fag friends to help him as bait for the thugs.
Then he uses kidnapping and torture to track down all the homo haters who beat his boyfriend up.
Buckets of fake blood pour out as he castrates each of the rednecks.
Sometimes before they are dead, sometimes after.
Lots of frightened conversations between the hunted rednecks as the homo boy racks up their buddies and they all talk about how horrifying it is to be buried with no balls.
I swear it'll be a blockbuster, complete with copycat killings!
At the end he creates a clubhouse and forms a huge gang with hundreds of queers and they take over all the businesses owned by the redneck crime syndicate that was attacking them. In the end, the patrons are all glad the previous owners are gone and the straights and queers have a big party and live happily until the sequel when more rednecks show up and they have a mass battle between rednecks and queers with everyone on harleys (queers included) and bullets flying everywhere. The flamer boy who starts it all gets a grand 5 minute death scene full of DRAMA then gets a hero's burial by the queers who then have a statue made of him.
What do you think? Snazzy eh?
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Space Tunnel to Asslandia - Chapters 8 - 14 hot off the press from serializednovel.wordpress.com!
For your reading pleasure: Space Tunnel to Asslandia - Chapters 8 - 14 hot off the press from my serial novels website serializednovel.wordpress.com!
Chapter 1-7 are here
Chapters 1-14 complete are here
Chapter 8
In the movie adaptation, all the shit is replaced with water,
and no mention is made of the dread invasion of our butts.
It's something of a fairy tale, really.
The reality was it took literally hours to travel to our destination, and mandy never once took her eyes off my ass.
I didn't have any ass to stare at, so I was looking out the walls and ahead.
Every once in a while I would turn around. But her fascination with my butt was too unnerving.
I think that's when she fell in love with me. That first trip.
She wouldn't stop licking her lips. It was so freaky. If I ever wanted someone to lick my ass, it would not be Mandy. She had NO sense of rhythm.
Pooper looked similarly attracted to T.
T started singing. Not human singing. Our dread companions all writhed in unison. Thinking became difficult.
I blacked out for a while.
Chapter 9
The funny thing about all this is...
We were never the "Asslandia - 1" Team.
Honestly.
I didn't get any briefing on alien worlds and ass-huggers from another planet.
I didn't get a gun. I didn't get any "combat training" or diplomatic instructions.
I was SHIT-CLEANUP. So was Mandy, Smack, Pooper, even science boy.
We were in the first tunnel section to cleanup and assess the possibility of more shit coming through. and what might be necessary to deal with it. My briefing was about how we were supposed to work together when the shit reached the ceiling ventilation fans, like it did last time.
We were NOT a "highly trained earth recon team scouting possible hostile and allied forces on hostile planets through the Space Tunnel. Battling the ancient alien forces intent on inabiting human bodies through their ass."
That was the marketing shit for the movie they made 10 years later.
Minus the ass.
The movie with the big swoosh of CLEAN water, not shit, every time they use the tunnel. I'm an anthropologist or something in it, not a shit vacuumer like in real life.
Nope. Low level pooper scoopers is what we were.
Up to our knees in an alien swamp,
with no clothes on.
Chapter 10
I remember Cub Scouts.
In a small northern community. A cub scout Jamboree. Whoo hOOO!
I learned to use a hatchet and fix the wedge. 3 kids were hospitalized in separate incidents, leading to much tent talk. I actually enjoyed it a lot, but I'm a loner who likes to bushwack. It was a place of beautiful rot and decay.
It was on some northern hectares somewhere in north alberta, on a "lake". Which was actually a swamp. If you got out on it in a canoe it resembled a lake. But it was a swamp. With leeches.
Thousands of them. Suspended in the water. In the green-black murk. Lots and lots and lots of leeches. And not enough salt to deal with it in the camp. I had my stash and it was "fuck you all". Seriously. I don't like leeches, and I was a good boy scout. I was Prepared.
The swamp was beautiful and serene on top, but terrifying to touch or immerse yourself in. Terrifying. Visceral and pungent and Terrifying. There HAD to be dead bodies in something that stank that bad. We all whispered around marshmallows about who they might be.
Underneath the water was not sand, but about 2 feet of muck. Black oozy dirty rot muck with thousands of little snail shells to wiggle between your toes.
I also learned to bathe with one hand off a rock that weekend I think. Twice I stepped in the muck, and twice was enough. The canoe was cool.
The leeches definitely were not. Or the snails.
So. Alien planet. Just slid naked across the galaxy on the quest for home initiated by an ass parasite, kind of like a big dread leech. It's squirming. I'm in a bit of shock. I just had the most amazing experience of bright white light and humming, the gorgeous capsule transference mechanism that somehow transports me and I am forever in love with it. Like the Tasp of Nessus it has entranced me and I think I am in love with a space capsule. Seriously. Damn I wish I could have taken it home after those years.
Reality kicks in. The capsule is no more. The white light recedes to darkness. The beautiful fuzzy warmth becomes slimy clammy and cold. Like The Swamp.
I'm up to my upper thigh in something like water but slightly more viscous.
The "ground" beneath is like the swamp I just described. Something like small snail is everywhere throughout a thicker earthy granular ooze, 2 feet up my leg.
On an alien planet.
I'm hunched over, then suddenly, I realize, I've let my ass and balls into something that I don't know is even water, it extends all around me, and I can't see cause it's a dim red evening light with fog.
And my ass was in this swamp goo. The "water" looks black in the light. It's slimey. I thought of leeches and stood up straight. Everyone did the same, in a small group. We all had hard-ons again from the Transfer Joy dammit. Then everybody groaned.
6 small splooshes occurred in the silence.
As I grew accustomed to the light I wondered if everyone else had shot their load in that moment when we were finally free of the ass invaders. It really had topped off the Transfer Joy nicely. IMHO
Gradually it became clear. T had the biggest deal obviously, and he had hit Pooper in the eye. Science boy was standing behind Pooper with a very happy smile turning to disorientation and I couldn't see the end of his dick. Which oddly didn't disturb me, it seemed "cute" at the time. Smack was in front of Pooper and had got him in the chest. I had been standing up while Mandy was leaning forward to reach for me to stabilize herself . I had hit her straight on the tit, while watching the the dread lord literally fly out of her ass into the swamp as my sight returned. It did a flip in the air and a wriggle. Then sploosh!
Everyone stood up. The capsule and the Tunnel were 100 feet behind us, dimly lit.
I HAD to get out of the goop. fast. I slogged toward the Tunnel. I was naked and thinking of crocodile like things or worse. I had no salt for leeches. I really was not Prepared.
Everyone followed. I heard science boy tell Pooper not to use the goop to wash off with, as it might be contaminated. I looked down. I seemed clear and evaporating almost like water, but who knows what kind of horrible alien parasitic infection I could have festering. I wanted a shower.
Oddly enough, my butt felt sterile compared to my outer body at the moment. Like it had been luufa'd on the inside.
I remembered how clean it was in the capsule, so that's where I headed.
Do you remember Something About Mary? The hair thing?
Mandy is walking beside me, because she's waaay faster and bigger than me, she's looking down at me, and my splurge is sproinging back and forth off the end of her nipple with each step before finally making a wet splat and sticking to her torso and lower boob. She doesn't notice. Her eyes are glittering.
Capsule, Capsule, please let me inside!
Chapter 11
After the harrowing realization that I had exposed my genitals and ass to an alien liquid swamp goo, and the subsequent realization that , yes, this was infinitely more icky than anything that had happened before during the last 4 hours, I did, at that moment consider psychological counseling. Unfortunately I was never able to get ANYONE to believe what really happened after they made that pathetic family content propaganda movie.
Seriously. Alien mindcontrolling ass-dreadlocks? Nope. I was shit out of luck and gave up within 2 months of being back on earth.
That was 3 years from this moment, on an alien swamp planet, naked, with Lt. "Something About" Mandy standing goofily but strangley soft and "vulnerable" looking in the reddish "moonlight. Like that red version of She-Hulk, but with googly eyes all glinting red.
I am scared. Literally. I feel Filthy with a capital F. Alien goop on my balls. My ass was in there. The capsule liquid had seemed pristine to whatever we were just in. Something roared about 20 ft away. My average white boy weiner had gone full turtle and sucked himself right up to where he was well hidden behind my balls. I'm not a "show-er", that's for sure. Mandy really scared me and she kept staring at my private bits which at this time were trying to be covert. I would have personally had a hard time finding my dick at this moment so I don't know what she was thinking, and the idea of her huge steroid driven frame entertaining thoughts larger than those contained in a children's primer was literally making me want to piss myself. Which would have been straight ahead as I couldn't grab mr. turtle to aim I'm sure.
I quickly turn my attention to the glowing blue capsule, now on its side.
Chapter 12
So Mandy is staring at me all infatuated, Science Boy Mickey is getting a visible boner staring at Pooper's ass, Pooper was looking at T like he was some sort of African Love God arisen to save him, and Smack obviously was in loooooove with Mandy.
If I had known, at that very moment,that this is the way it would be through most of the next 3 years, including the NAKED part, I probably would have pulled out a vein with my own teeth right then and there.
Hindsight, of course, isn't reality.
Mandy was conspicuously right behind me as I moved to the front of the capsule. I couldn't reach the spot that T had rubbed. Mandy picked me up, like Arnie or something, and very gently put me to the side and tried.
I was so scared. Seriously. I got picked up and gently put aside by Amazon Shit Cleanup Woman from earth.
I was so glad she didn't have all her guns. She REALLY liked guns.
Everyone that could reach rubbed the dildo capsule firmly under the tip.
Which was everyone but me and Pooper.
T picked up Pooper so he could rub it.
Pooper looked sooo happy in that moment. Wow.
Mandy picked me up again and actually put me on her shoulders like a 5 year old.
My balls were against the back of her neck. She had a tattoo of a skull with a snake running through its eyes and a couple of wings of fire. That's what I saw before my balls made a satisfying but painful smack against it. Mr. Turtle burrowed deeper. I rubbed the tip of the capsule.
Nothing.
Mandy walked over to the Tunnel orifice. She was looking for a red button and finger thing. My ass was at everyone's eye level and my balls were smooshed against She Hulk's neck. At least she was carrying me very smoothly.
There wasn't any light anymore, but the Tunnel was on a little soft sand island only 100 feet in diameter around the orifice. Behind it was sheer rock wall. I just got pooped out onto an alien beach and I wanted a shower sooo bad.
Here, the button was on the wall. It wasn't lit up like at home. There was a hole in the wall beside it but none of us would touch that until we were sure we could make the Rinse Cycle go. Naked in alien goo was bad enough, but naked in that shit we had been shoveling back on earth would have been...
I couldn't even imagine. None of us could. We would NOT stick our fingers in that hole for ANYTHING.
Chapter 13
Hours later I woke up. Many hours later.
I felt so much better for having slept. Even though I was being squished against the wall by Mandy's massive frame. I had a tiny crack between her boobs to breathe through. A couple of times that night she had shifted and cut off my air supply through the crack.
I was NOT strong enough to move She-Hulk. I almost died in her arms that night, literally.
Suffocating to death by boob seems like a nice way to go, but believe me, suffocation is suffocation.
The Horror.
I wake up sometimes in a sweat from that. I felt so helpless. I never let her pin me against a wall again.
I can't say she never pinned me again. Just not against a wall.
OK there was that one time when the Dread Lords had me shackled with my face to a wall, but I choose to forget that right now. It was too weird. I can't believe she did that...
Chapter 14
It seemed a bit longer than a night on Earth. We slept hard. Every time I woke up I had a facefull of solid muscle-tits. It was better than being eaten by a crocodile thing, but not by much. I had to pee about halfway through the night. 6 hours of holding my pee while having an immense immobile she-beast pressing her 6-pack pelvis into my bladder.
As I said, The Horror.
The reddish light grew and the fog stayed. Almost in unison people began grunting awake. Mandy awoke fast, like a good little soldier girl, and apparently had to use my lower abdomen to push herself up. I wanted to just let er rip, the pain was so bad, but I just made a slightly feminine squeek and groaned in relief when she stood up. I ran to the waterline I had previously run from and pissed for a long time. Other people apparently had been able to go throughout the night. It's amazing how good a piss can feel sometimes.
Freed from my nightmare flesh bondage and fresh from my pee break I look around the nothingness. Monkey draws a blank. Nada. There is jack shit for tools anywhere. Capsule in goo about 30 feet away, surrounded by misty fog shit thats kinda yellowish. Reddish light, no visible disc so high cloud but no low cloud formations, red sky, warm, for about 20-30 feet around the Tunnel orifice there is no mist. reddish sand with black pebbles. Orifice, dead Rinse Cycle button, Fingerhole, and wall.
6 naked people. Pretty clean but naked. Butt naked. Nothing.
No light on the capsule, no light on the button. Birdlike animal screeches and low rumbling roars with splashes not too far away. Mr. Turtle goes back to hide.
Our Predicament is about as messed up as it could be.
I hear a hungry roar in the swamp. My stomach growls. I have zero ideas and am not at all confident in any of my companions having ideas. If there is no Deus Ex Machina, we are probably fucked.
Chapter 1-7 are here
Chapters 1-14 complete are here
Chapter 8
In the movie adaptation, all the shit is replaced with water,
and no mention is made of the dread invasion of our butts.
It's something of a fairy tale, really.
The reality was it took literally hours to travel to our destination, and mandy never once took her eyes off my ass.
I didn't have any ass to stare at, so I was looking out the walls and ahead.
Every once in a while I would turn around. But her fascination with my butt was too unnerving.
I think that's when she fell in love with me. That first trip.
She wouldn't stop licking her lips. It was so freaky. If I ever wanted someone to lick my ass, it would not be Mandy. She had NO sense of rhythm.
Pooper looked similarly attracted to T.
T started singing. Not human singing. Our dread companions all writhed in unison. Thinking became difficult.
I blacked out for a while.
Chapter 9
The funny thing about all this is...
We were never the "Asslandia - 1" Team.
Honestly.
I didn't get any briefing on alien worlds and ass-huggers from another planet.
I didn't get a gun. I didn't get any "combat training" or diplomatic instructions.
I was SHIT-CLEANUP. So was Mandy, Smack, Pooper, even science boy.
We were in the first tunnel section to cleanup and assess the possibility of more shit coming through. and what might be necessary to deal with it. My briefing was about how we were supposed to work together when the shit reached the ceiling ventilation fans, like it did last time.
We were NOT a "highly trained earth recon team scouting possible hostile and allied forces on hostile planets through the Space Tunnel. Battling the ancient alien forces intent on inabiting human bodies through their ass."
That was the marketing shit for the movie they made 10 years later.
Minus the ass.
The movie with the big swoosh of CLEAN water, not shit, every time they use the tunnel. I'm an anthropologist or something in it, not a shit vacuumer like in real life.
Nope. Low level pooper scoopers is what we were.
Up to our knees in an alien swamp,
with no clothes on.
Chapter 10
I remember Cub Scouts.
In a small northern community. A cub scout Jamboree. Whoo hOOO!
I learned to use a hatchet and fix the wedge. 3 kids were hospitalized in separate incidents, leading to much tent talk. I actually enjoyed it a lot, but I'm a loner who likes to bushwack. It was a place of beautiful rot and decay.
It was on some northern hectares somewhere in north alberta, on a "lake". Which was actually a swamp. If you got out on it in a canoe it resembled a lake. But it was a swamp. With leeches.
Thousands of them. Suspended in the water. In the green-black murk. Lots and lots and lots of leeches. And not enough salt to deal with it in the camp. I had my stash and it was "fuck you all". Seriously. I don't like leeches, and I was a good boy scout. I was Prepared.
The swamp was beautiful and serene on top, but terrifying to touch or immerse yourself in. Terrifying. Visceral and pungent and Terrifying. There HAD to be dead bodies in something that stank that bad. We all whispered around marshmallows about who they might be.
Underneath the water was not sand, but about 2 feet of muck. Black oozy dirty rot muck with thousands of little snail shells to wiggle between your toes.
I also learned to bathe with one hand off a rock that weekend I think. Twice I stepped in the muck, and twice was enough. The canoe was cool.
The leeches definitely were not. Or the snails.
So. Alien planet. Just slid naked across the galaxy on the quest for home initiated by an ass parasite, kind of like a big dread leech. It's squirming. I'm in a bit of shock. I just had the most amazing experience of bright white light and humming, the gorgeous capsule transference mechanism that somehow transports me and I am forever in love with it. Like the Tasp of Nessus it has entranced me and I think I am in love with a space capsule. Seriously. Damn I wish I could have taken it home after those years.
Reality kicks in. The capsule is no more. The white light recedes to darkness. The beautiful fuzzy warmth becomes slimy clammy and cold. Like The Swamp.
I'm up to my upper thigh in something like water but slightly more viscous.
The "ground" beneath is like the swamp I just described. Something like small snail is everywhere throughout a thicker earthy granular ooze, 2 feet up my leg.
On an alien planet.
I'm hunched over, then suddenly, I realize, I've let my ass and balls into something that I don't know is even water, it extends all around me, and I can't see cause it's a dim red evening light with fog.
And my ass was in this swamp goo. The "water" looks black in the light. It's slimey. I thought of leeches and stood up straight. Everyone did the same, in a small group. We all had hard-ons again from the Transfer Joy dammit. Then everybody groaned.
6 small splooshes occurred in the silence.
As I grew accustomed to the light I wondered if everyone else had shot their load in that moment when we were finally free of the ass invaders. It really had topped off the Transfer Joy nicely. IMHO
Gradually it became clear. T had the biggest deal obviously, and he had hit Pooper in the eye. Science boy was standing behind Pooper with a very happy smile turning to disorientation and I couldn't see the end of his dick. Which oddly didn't disturb me, it seemed "cute" at the time. Smack was in front of Pooper and had got him in the chest. I had been standing up while Mandy was leaning forward to reach for me to stabilize herself . I had hit her straight on the tit, while watching the the dread lord literally fly out of her ass into the swamp as my sight returned. It did a flip in the air and a wriggle. Then sploosh!
Everyone stood up. The capsule and the Tunnel were 100 feet behind us, dimly lit.
I HAD to get out of the goop. fast. I slogged toward the Tunnel. I was naked and thinking of crocodile like things or worse. I had no salt for leeches. I really was not Prepared.
Everyone followed. I heard science boy tell Pooper not to use the goop to wash off with, as it might be contaminated. I looked down. I seemed clear and evaporating almost like water, but who knows what kind of horrible alien parasitic infection I could have festering. I wanted a shower.
Oddly enough, my butt felt sterile compared to my outer body at the moment. Like it had been luufa'd on the inside.
I remembered how clean it was in the capsule, so that's where I headed.
Do you remember Something About Mary? The hair thing?
Mandy is walking beside me, because she's waaay faster and bigger than me, she's looking down at me, and my splurge is sproinging back and forth off the end of her nipple with each step before finally making a wet splat and sticking to her torso and lower boob. She doesn't notice. Her eyes are glittering.
Capsule, Capsule, please let me inside!
Chapter 11
After the harrowing realization that I had exposed my genitals and ass to an alien liquid swamp goo, and the subsequent realization that , yes, this was infinitely more icky than anything that had happened before during the last 4 hours, I did, at that moment consider psychological counseling. Unfortunately I was never able to get ANYONE to believe what really happened after they made that pathetic family content propaganda movie.
Seriously. Alien mindcontrolling ass-dreadlocks? Nope. I was shit out of luck and gave up within 2 months of being back on earth.
That was 3 years from this moment, on an alien swamp planet, naked, with Lt. "Something About" Mandy standing goofily but strangley soft and "vulnerable" looking in the reddish "moonlight. Like that red version of She-Hulk, but with googly eyes all glinting red.
I am scared. Literally. I feel Filthy with a capital F. Alien goop on my balls. My ass was in there. The capsule liquid had seemed pristine to whatever we were just in. Something roared about 20 ft away. My average white boy weiner had gone full turtle and sucked himself right up to where he was well hidden behind my balls. I'm not a "show-er", that's for sure. Mandy really scared me and she kept staring at my private bits which at this time were trying to be covert. I would have personally had a hard time finding my dick at this moment so I don't know what she was thinking, and the idea of her huge steroid driven frame entertaining thoughts larger than those contained in a children's primer was literally making me want to piss myself. Which would have been straight ahead as I couldn't grab mr. turtle to aim I'm sure.
I quickly turn my attention to the glowing blue capsule, now on its side.
Chapter 12
So Mandy is staring at me all infatuated, Science Boy Mickey is getting a visible boner staring at Pooper's ass, Pooper was looking at T like he was some sort of African Love God arisen to save him, and Smack obviously was in loooooove with Mandy.
If I had known, at that very moment,that this is the way it would be through most of the next 3 years, including the NAKED part, I probably would have pulled out a vein with my own teeth right then and there.
Hindsight, of course, isn't reality.
Mandy was conspicuously right behind me as I moved to the front of the capsule. I couldn't reach the spot that T had rubbed. Mandy picked me up, like Arnie or something, and very gently put me to the side and tried.
I was so scared. Seriously. I got picked up and gently put aside by Amazon Shit Cleanup Woman from earth.
I was so glad she didn't have all her guns. She REALLY liked guns.
Everyone that could reach rubbed the dildo capsule firmly under the tip.
Which was everyone but me and Pooper.
T picked up Pooper so he could rub it.
Pooper looked sooo happy in that moment. Wow.
Mandy picked me up again and actually put me on her shoulders like a 5 year old.
My balls were against the back of her neck. She had a tattoo of a skull with a snake running through its eyes and a couple of wings of fire. That's what I saw before my balls made a satisfying but painful smack against it. Mr. Turtle burrowed deeper. I rubbed the tip of the capsule.
Nothing.
Mandy walked over to the Tunnel orifice. She was looking for a red button and finger thing. My ass was at everyone's eye level and my balls were smooshed against She Hulk's neck. At least she was carrying me very smoothly.
There wasn't any light anymore, but the Tunnel was on a little soft sand island only 100 feet in diameter around the orifice. Behind it was sheer rock wall. I just got pooped out onto an alien beach and I wanted a shower sooo bad.
Here, the button was on the wall. It wasn't lit up like at home. There was a hole in the wall beside it but none of us would touch that until we were sure we could make the Rinse Cycle go. Naked in alien goo was bad enough, but naked in that shit we had been shoveling back on earth would have been...
I couldn't even imagine. None of us could. We would NOT stick our fingers in that hole for ANYTHING.
Chapter 13
Hours later I woke up. Many hours later.
I felt so much better for having slept. Even though I was being squished against the wall by Mandy's massive frame. I had a tiny crack between her boobs to breathe through. A couple of times that night she had shifted and cut off my air supply through the crack.
I was NOT strong enough to move She-Hulk. I almost died in her arms that night, literally.
Suffocating to death by boob seems like a nice way to go, but believe me, suffocation is suffocation.
The Horror.
I wake up sometimes in a sweat from that. I felt so helpless. I never let her pin me against a wall again.
I can't say she never pinned me again. Just not against a wall.
OK there was that one time when the Dread Lords had me shackled with my face to a wall, but I choose to forget that right now. It was too weird. I can't believe she did that...
Chapter 14
It seemed a bit longer than a night on Earth. We slept hard. Every time I woke up I had a facefull of solid muscle-tits. It was better than being eaten by a crocodile thing, but not by much. I had to pee about halfway through the night. 6 hours of holding my pee while having an immense immobile she-beast pressing her 6-pack pelvis into my bladder.
As I said, The Horror.
The reddish light grew and the fog stayed. Almost in unison people began grunting awake. Mandy awoke fast, like a good little soldier girl, and apparently had to use my lower abdomen to push herself up. I wanted to just let er rip, the pain was so bad, but I just made a slightly feminine squeek and groaned in relief when she stood up. I ran to the waterline I had previously run from and pissed for a long time. Other people apparently had been able to go throughout the night. It's amazing how good a piss can feel sometimes.
Freed from my nightmare flesh bondage and fresh from my pee break I look around the nothingness. Monkey draws a blank. Nada. There is jack shit for tools anywhere. Capsule in goo about 30 feet away, surrounded by misty fog shit thats kinda yellowish. Reddish light, no visible disc so high cloud but no low cloud formations, red sky, warm, for about 20-30 feet around the Tunnel orifice there is no mist. reddish sand with black pebbles. Orifice, dead Rinse Cycle button, Fingerhole, and wall.
6 naked people. Pretty clean but naked. Butt naked. Nothing.
No light on the capsule, no light on the button. Birdlike animal screeches and low rumbling roars with splashes not too far away. Mr. Turtle goes back to hide.
Our Predicament is about as messed up as it could be.
I hear a hungry roar in the swamp. My stomach growls. I have zero ideas and am not at all confident in any of my companions having ideas. If there is no Deus Ex Machina, we are probably fucked.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Macguyver'd in the ass - mullings on mullets and military mind manipulations
Remember that crappy '70's series that tried to be serious with the red/green duct tape crap?
I remember it well. That guy was my hero for a bit when I was like 12 or so.
He was never as cool as Kirk or Mr. Spock, or even the 6 Million dollar man, but we ran home to watch it.
Years later I see him. Tooling around in his fancy sports car.
I'm pretty disgusted.
Imagine this scenario.
You meet a childhood hero. Someone who fought the "bad" guys.
Maybe you even had a mullet or something like him.
So you meet him.
He asks you to let him pay you back if you'll use your credit card to buy lunch.
He then proceeds to use your card to pay for $600 of food and beer, and while you're taking a piss he uses it to buy himself 2 plane tickets back to his place, then leaves with the girl you came with.
That's how I feel about Macguyver.
I remember a smirking poser asshole with a snazzy sports car zooming up,
making me pull my dog back from the curb.
He HAS to drive in front of me. Its important.
So he can get out a good smirk.
Its too hot of a day to spit and get him.
That's the funny thing about the human psyche. We mix these fictional characters of morally righteous military propaganda with the reality that actors are just greedy backstabbing humans like everyone else. Maybe more so.
He's part of the propaganda. I remember how scared we were of those terrorists.
We should have been terrified of MacGuyver. He was the one fucking with our little heads, trying to make us believe that he or anyone else gave a shit about justice.
Really he's an american spy. Honestly. A foreign shit disturber CIA mouthpiece with a mullet that he then traded in for a buzz cut.
We all lapped it up.
I think its hilarious. Arnie as guvernator, Reagan, years of American presidencies ruled by the media. Ruled by their own spies and gangsters, feeding us stories only they want to hear and fucking up our local cultures.
I really wish I could have got up a spit. It was just too dry and surreal.
I wonder why no one ever gets charged with espionage. We all know there are a few thousand american operatives and "retired" rangers chilling in Canada. Yet we never arrest any of them. I wonder what CSIS is doing sometimes about that.
Oh. Right.
To CSIS I'm probably considered a greater threat to Canada than an american actor with military ties who's made 25+ years of military propaganda here. Funny. So fucking funny.
Socialists are more dangerous than American PsyOps to the boys and girls in Canadian "Intelligence".
I was thinking of previous centuries of colonialism. The rich conquerors would set up vacation properties and regardless of how the population felt about them, they flocked to be their servants, because it was better wages working for the masters. Well fed slaves get used to watching non compliant ones die mercilessly.
That's just the way it is.
I remember it well. That guy was my hero for a bit when I was like 12 or so.
He was never as cool as Kirk or Mr. Spock, or even the 6 Million dollar man, but we ran home to watch it.
Years later I see him. Tooling around in his fancy sports car.
I'm pretty disgusted.
Imagine this scenario.
You meet a childhood hero. Someone who fought the "bad" guys.
Maybe you even had a mullet or something like him.
So you meet him.
He asks you to let him pay you back if you'll use your credit card to buy lunch.
He then proceeds to use your card to pay for $600 of food and beer, and while you're taking a piss he uses it to buy himself 2 plane tickets back to his place, then leaves with the girl you came with.
That's how I feel about Macguyver.
I remember a smirking poser asshole with a snazzy sports car zooming up,
making me pull my dog back from the curb.
He HAS to drive in front of me. Its important.
So he can get out a good smirk.
Its too hot of a day to spit and get him.
That's the funny thing about the human psyche. We mix these fictional characters of morally righteous military propaganda with the reality that actors are just greedy backstabbing humans like everyone else. Maybe more so.
He's part of the propaganda. I remember how scared we were of those terrorists.
We should have been terrified of MacGuyver. He was the one fucking with our little heads, trying to make us believe that he or anyone else gave a shit about justice.
Really he's an american spy. Honestly. A foreign shit disturber CIA mouthpiece with a mullet that he then traded in for a buzz cut.
We all lapped it up.
I think its hilarious. Arnie as guvernator, Reagan, years of American presidencies ruled by the media. Ruled by their own spies and gangsters, feeding us stories only they want to hear and fucking up our local cultures.
I really wish I could have got up a spit. It was just too dry and surreal.
I wonder why no one ever gets charged with espionage. We all know there are a few thousand american operatives and "retired" rangers chilling in Canada. Yet we never arrest any of them. I wonder what CSIS is doing sometimes about that.
Oh. Right.
To CSIS I'm probably considered a greater threat to Canada than an american actor with military ties who's made 25+ years of military propaganda here. Funny. So fucking funny.
Socialists are more dangerous than American PsyOps to the boys and girls in Canadian "Intelligence".
I was thinking of previous centuries of colonialism. The rich conquerors would set up vacation properties and regardless of how the population felt about them, they flocked to be their servants, because it was better wages working for the masters. Well fed slaves get used to watching non compliant ones die mercilessly.
That's just the way it is.
Soma/Haoma
So this is a "thesis" of mine.
A theory.
The yoga dudes who meditated in the hot desert extolled the virtues of a drink they called Soma or Haoma.
Nobody knows for sure what it was because it didn't have a recipe.
I believe that I know what the actual drink was
back then.
Like 4k years ago sorta or even more
I believe it was a form of giant ephedra grass grown in northern Afghanistan at the time, a tribe in that area would make well known clay jars, and fill them with the milk made from bashing the giant ephedra stalks on rocks with stones.
The juice then sat a bit, then was transported by camel down the trading route that ran south to india at the time. So it travelled in sealed jars for about 2-3 weeks, then sat at the other end for a while before being sold.
So the ephedra juice at this time had aged by about 2 months and had fermented. It was then drank slowly and allowed to continue fermenting by the end user.
This is the key ingredient that was lost in time, the fermenting of the milk over time.
So it would up your heart rate significantly, and have psychoactive properties.
Because ephedra milk can get psychoactive like mushrooms if its fermented.
That's my grand theory of the origins and recipe of a great entheogen known and regarded highly through history.
It is holy to shivaites and many other cultures as well.
I think with good reason.
While I'm at it.
Got some mungy tasting magic mushrooms?
The best way to eat them is to put them in one of those small coffee grinders with enough hot chocolate for a cup or two, and throw a couple of raw coffee beans in there, only like 2-3.
grind it up and make magical hot chocolate!
A theory.
The yoga dudes who meditated in the hot desert extolled the virtues of a drink they called Soma or Haoma.
Nobody knows for sure what it was because it didn't have a recipe.
I believe that I know what the actual drink was
back then.
Like 4k years ago sorta or even more
I believe it was a form of giant ephedra grass grown in northern Afghanistan at the time, a tribe in that area would make well known clay jars, and fill them with the milk made from bashing the giant ephedra stalks on rocks with stones.
The juice then sat a bit, then was transported by camel down the trading route that ran south to india at the time. So it travelled in sealed jars for about 2-3 weeks, then sat at the other end for a while before being sold.
So the ephedra juice at this time had aged by about 2 months and had fermented. It was then drank slowly and allowed to continue fermenting by the end user.
This is the key ingredient that was lost in time, the fermenting of the milk over time.
So it would up your heart rate significantly, and have psychoactive properties.
Because ephedra milk can get psychoactive like mushrooms if its fermented.
That's my grand theory of the origins and recipe of a great entheogen known and regarded highly through history.
It is holy to shivaites and many other cultures as well.
I think with good reason.
While I'm at it.
Got some mungy tasting magic mushrooms?
The best way to eat them is to put them in one of those small coffee grinders with enough hot chocolate for a cup or two, and throw a couple of raw coffee beans in there, only like 2-3.
grind it up and make magical hot chocolate!
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Goodbye CBC radio 3
I guess they don't have enough IT people in the union shop at cbc radio 3
They changed their website makeup and deleted all the profiles
So you can't listen to my songs on there anymore.
Oh Well.
Guess I'll have to figure out something else.
That took me a lot of time to upload those songs.
They changed their website makeup and deleted all the profiles
So you can't listen to my songs on there anymore.
Oh Well.
Guess I'll have to figure out something else.
That took me a lot of time to upload those songs.
Sunday, April 08, 2012
The Green Man
If you look at old European architecture and imagery
especially those influenced by the Celtic tribes
you see a recurrence of images of a face appearing from leaves
It's called a Green Man in modern language
An all pervasive symbol, where it can be found
it is often described incorrectly by anthropologists and theologians
In christianized religions,
people "worship" a god
They kneel and prostrate
And basically Grovel
Which is uncool
Not like I'm hip to cool
but I don't grovel or serve
and neither did people who practised the art of
The Green Man
These people did not "pray" to the green man
That is not his/her purpose or way
Because the Green Man/Woman
Is yourself
the observer of the stone image or drawing
From christian perspective
thinks that it is an icon of their "worship"
Worship is a subservience
people who have meditated
and transformed themselves
into the Green Man/Green Woman
don't "serve"
How would you "serve" your Self?
This ancient practice has never stopped being practiced
yet there are very few reasonable descriptions of it
First of all
Trees don't talk much
If they do
they talk
Slowly
So reading yapping sports number games
don't really work if your Goal is to Transform into a Tree
It’s a quiet, drink some tea or have a vodka/wine/ beer
sip or have a toke
relax and breathe
sort of thing
it helps if you've done any yoga or meditations involving chakra visualization
Its easier if you take the time to slow down your heart rate
and slow your thinking down
think Delta
slow
It's easier if you have a partner
not necessarily in the same room or place
and for some reason
it's a bit easier with a Green Man/Green Woman polarity
but really
anyone you love who's also interested in this practice can work together
sex doesn't have to be involved
It often is but doesn’t have to be
but intimate connections with another Green Man/Woman
helps the process
So
once you've slowed down
place yourself in a chair, standing, or sitting yoga style
it doesn't matter
but Roots go Down and Branches go Up
right?
Try it
keeping in mind that it’s a Personal Transformation
You don't see the Green Man
You Become him/her with your partner/s.
Its a base Transformation that is common in most northern bloodlines.
you might get dizzy
People have actually puked doing it
many millions of times throughout history
seriously
And you might feel like you have a flue and are messed up for a couple weeks
because your mind and its connected systems went through a Personal Transformation
that affects body chemistry
You might become clumsy or susceptible to suggestion for a few days or longer
Being a Tree makes your glands and senses fire off
and affects how you view the world
whether that is useful to you or not is completely up to you
It doesn't give instruction
or speak to you
You don't pray "to" it
you become it
My last Old Yoda tip:
its a try without actively "trying"
sort of thing
you have to get a bit trancy
Millions of people were slaughtered by men with crosses
for practicing this Path of The Green Man
and still are
today
because it's "not a religion"
It's a Spiritual Belief and meditational practice
That is still persecuted by christian administrations
and any organization or system run primarily by members of a Lodge.
Did this help you?
This article/story?
Did it help You on your particular Path?
Did you Know this before?
What is a new age book or magazine worth?
I think you might get more out of this than a magazine
if you really give it a try
I didn't charge you for it.
I'm not a beggar
never have been
So maybe donate some coffee or tobacco money
so I can sit under a Tree
and have a coffee and a smoke
or a beer
and be a Tree
Most people put at least a few coins in the bucket
if they learn something from it
there is a reason
for tobacco
being an offering
but that's another story to tell
especially those influenced by the Celtic tribes
you see a recurrence of images of a face appearing from leaves
It's called a Green Man in modern language
An all pervasive symbol, where it can be found
it is often described incorrectly by anthropologists and theologians
In christianized religions,
people "worship" a god
They kneel and prostrate
And basically Grovel
Which is uncool
Not like I'm hip to cool
but I don't grovel or serve
and neither did people who practised the art of
The Green Man
These people did not "pray" to the green man
That is not his/her purpose or way
Because the Green Man/Woman
Is yourself
the observer of the stone image or drawing
From christian perspective
thinks that it is an icon of their "worship"
Worship is a subservience
people who have meditated
and transformed themselves
into the Green Man/Green Woman
don't "serve"
How would you "serve" your Self?
This ancient practice has never stopped being practiced
yet there are very few reasonable descriptions of it
First of all
Trees don't talk much
If they do
they talk
Slowly
So reading yapping sports number games
don't really work if your Goal is to Transform into a Tree
It’s a quiet, drink some tea or have a vodka/wine/ beer
sip or have a toke
relax and breathe
sort of thing
it helps if you've done any yoga or meditations involving chakra visualization
Its easier if you take the time to slow down your heart rate
and slow your thinking down
think Delta
slow
It's easier if you have a partner
not necessarily in the same room or place
and for some reason
it's a bit easier with a Green Man/Green Woman polarity
but really
anyone you love who's also interested in this practice can work together
sex doesn't have to be involved
It often is but doesn’t have to be
but intimate connections with another Green Man/Woman
helps the process
So
once you've slowed down
place yourself in a chair, standing, or sitting yoga style
it doesn't matter
but Roots go Down and Branches go Up
right?
Try it
keeping in mind that it’s a Personal Transformation
You don't see the Green Man
You Become him/her with your partner/s.
Its a base Transformation that is common in most northern bloodlines.
you might get dizzy
People have actually puked doing it
many millions of times throughout history
seriously
And you might feel like you have a flue and are messed up for a couple weeks
because your mind and its connected systems went through a Personal Transformation
that affects body chemistry
You might become clumsy or susceptible to suggestion for a few days or longer
Being a Tree makes your glands and senses fire off
and affects how you view the world
whether that is useful to you or not is completely up to you
It doesn't give instruction
or speak to you
You don't pray "to" it
you become it
My last Old Yoda tip:
its a try without actively "trying"
sort of thing
you have to get a bit trancy
Millions of people were slaughtered by men with crosses
for practicing this Path of The Green Man
and still are
today
because it's "not a religion"
It's a Spiritual Belief and meditational practice
That is still persecuted by christian administrations
and any organization or system run primarily by members of a Lodge.
Did this help you?
This article/story?
Did it help You on your particular Path?
Did you Know this before?
What is a new age book or magazine worth?
I think you might get more out of this than a magazine
if you really give it a try
I didn't charge you for it.
I'm not a beggar
never have been
So maybe donate some coffee or tobacco money
so I can sit under a Tree
and have a coffee and a smoke
or a beer
and be a Tree
Most people put at least a few coins in the bucket
if they learn something from it
there is a reason
for tobacco
being an offering
but that's another story to tell
"They're all whores"
I had an uncle who used to say "They're all whores",
He said it a lot and it always tweaked my Political Correctness meter.
20 years later, I begin to agree with him.
for cars money houses security comfort
anyone you love can be bought
or turned
hundreds of times I've seen it.
I guess I might as well become a fucking pimp
because there are no Hearts of Gold
and love is just a measure of how fat your wallet is
these days.
Prove me wrong before you mouth off
because I didn't reach that conclusion lightly.
A lot of materialistic cunts drove it home
time and time and time again.
I used to get so offended when he said it.
I was so offended.
over and over and over and over I watch them
not believing me because I am poor
fucking the king's sons
hypocrite cunts of bullshit
Trained by the telly and the radio
to be material girls
no car no job no house no cunt
It's all about the surface these days
not about the center or the heart.
call me an asshole, I don't care
it's about the surface
and you all would rather believe I'm a liar and that I deserve to have nothing
so fuck you.
suck the King's sons dicks and you'll have more
and I'll take my cut
because nothing matters but money and power
and there is no justice or truth here.
Over and over and over
he said it.
I thought he was was crazy, back then
now I see
he was right
and the christians were the worst o them
making sure they had someone to "split costs" with
like compensated dating
A world full
of programmed whores
don't like what I'm saying?
suck my c o c k
and I'll rub the back of your neck
while you suck
He said it a lot and it always tweaked my Political Correctness meter.
20 years later, I begin to agree with him.
for cars money houses security comfort
anyone you love can be bought
or turned
hundreds of times I've seen it.
I guess I might as well become a fucking pimp
because there are no Hearts of Gold
and love is just a measure of how fat your wallet is
these days.
Prove me wrong before you mouth off
because I didn't reach that conclusion lightly.
A lot of materialistic cunts drove it home
time and time and time again.
I used to get so offended when he said it.
I was so offended.
over and over and over and over I watch them
not believing me because I am poor
fucking the king's sons
hypocrite cunts of bullshit
Trained by the telly and the radio
to be material girls
no car no job no house no cunt
It's all about the surface these days
not about the center or the heart.
call me an asshole, I don't care
it's about the surface
and you all would rather believe I'm a liar and that I deserve to have nothing
so fuck you.
suck the King's sons dicks and you'll have more
and I'll take my cut
because nothing matters but money and power
and there is no justice or truth here.
Over and over and over
he said it.
I thought he was was crazy, back then
now I see
he was right
and the christians were the worst o them
making sure they had someone to "split costs" with
like compensated dating
A world full
of programmed whores
don't like what I'm saying?
suck my c o c k
and I'll rub the back of your neck
while you suck
Out of the frying pan and into The Kettle: Did you know you can sue the poverty pimps personally?
I'm probably going to separate this into 2 articles in a day or so
but It works to build it as one article first, since it's all related.
So it will be 2 articles, one about How to Sue the Poverty Pimps /9and anyone else you need to sue) with only yourself to rely on, and the other will be about the Kettle and other poverty pimps, and how they siphon money and give out the bare minimum to make massive profits under the aegis of "charity"
Robert Cooper -> Anna Cooper -> The Kettle -> T4
Can you sue the poverty pimps personally?
I always thought you needed a lawyer to sue in Supreme Court.
Apparently, 80% of people who take an individual or organization to litigation in the Supreme court do so unrepresented by anyone but themselves.
(It's actualy the same in criminal proceedings in Canada - No representation for the poor against the rich or the state and its agents = no real equality of "justice")
Courts don't REALLY care about the Truth or about Justice
They care about who files the paperwork properly
so that's what you need to do
file the paperwork properly
It doesn't really help to go to the Law Society,
They are owned and operated by the same organization that owns and operates more than 3/4 of the poverty pimps in B.C.
The same "criminal" organization.
Runs the Law society out of the university.
And PIVOT.
So They won't help you, if you were ripped off by the scam.
At all. You'll have to DIY. I'll show you how
These are the poverty pimps owned by the same angelic criminal organization that I would personally like to sue. Together. As a unit. Because they are all from the same "family".
And the MHSD has clear links to them through their provincial union.
That's why they get the poverty pimp contracts
over and over
Its a big family that I'm related to, and I'm pissed at it because its full of redneck idiot aunties and uncles, fat from the nepotist trough, full of their stupid fucking redneck shit about "living the right way". Racist, dumb, anti-poor, homophobic throwbacks to an age of neanderthalic monkey wars, cluthing their bling crosses and pissing themselves over a glowing neon cross of colonialist bullshit.
Uncle Sams's favourites. Fucking up everyone's shit and fucking Canada too as we all make excuses for their genocidal idiocy. The wife beating smuggler drunks that hate stoners fags and hippies.
It's a great laugh for them to suck up the gov't handouts
because they spend so little on their "clients"
Ignorant dumb things with a working scam that gordo gave them to suck on for their great work in social cleansing through charity
Anyway. we'll start with The Kettle, first, because I think my whole community should sue them for what their pulling. They are fucking up Grandview-Woodlands more than the moronic junkies that the misguided do gooders feed daily.
If you don't like what you're reading
grip your panties tight
cause its only a WIP right now...
It will get worse.
but It works to build it as one article first, since it's all related.
So it will be 2 articles, one about How to Sue the Poverty Pimps /9and anyone else you need to sue) with only yourself to rely on, and the other will be about the Kettle and other poverty pimps, and how they siphon money and give out the bare minimum to make massive profits under the aegis of "charity"
Robert Cooper -> Anna Cooper -> The Kettle -> T4
Can you sue the poverty pimps personally?
I always thought you needed a lawyer to sue in Supreme Court.
Apparently, 80% of people who take an individual or organization to litigation in the Supreme court do so unrepresented by anyone but themselves.
(It's actualy the same in criminal proceedings in Canada - No representation for the poor against the rich or the state and its agents = no real equality of "justice")
Courts don't REALLY care about the Truth or about Justice
They care about who files the paperwork properly
so that's what you need to do
file the paperwork properly
It doesn't really help to go to the Law Society,
They are owned and operated by the same organization that owns and operates more than 3/4 of the poverty pimps in B.C.
The same "criminal" organization.
Runs the Law society out of the university.
And PIVOT.
So They won't help you, if you were ripped off by the scam.
At all. You'll have to DIY. I'll show you how
These are the poverty pimps owned by the same angelic criminal organization that I would personally like to sue. Together. As a unit. Because they are all from the same "family".
And the MHSD has clear links to them through their provincial union.
That's why they get the poverty pimp contracts
over and over
Its a big family that I'm related to, and I'm pissed at it because its full of redneck idiot aunties and uncles, fat from the nepotist trough, full of their stupid fucking redneck shit about "living the right way". Racist, dumb, anti-poor, homophobic throwbacks to an age of neanderthalic monkey wars, cluthing their bling crosses and pissing themselves over a glowing neon cross of colonialist bullshit.
Uncle Sams's favourites. Fucking up everyone's shit and fucking Canada too as we all make excuses for their genocidal idiocy. The wife beating smuggler drunks that hate stoners fags and hippies.
It's a great laugh for them to suck up the gov't handouts
because they spend so little on their "clients"
Ignorant dumb things with a working scam that gordo gave them to suck on for their great work in social cleansing through charity
Anyway. we'll start with The Kettle, first, because I think my whole community should sue them for what their pulling. They are fucking up Grandview-Woodlands more than the moronic junkies that the misguided do gooders feed daily.
If you don't like what you're reading
grip your panties tight
cause its only a WIP right now...
It will get worse.
Brazil bans the genital mutilation of children and adolescents, Canada continues with 3000+ genital mutilations per year
Exactly as the title says.
look it up.
Brazil bans the genital mutilation of children and adolescents,
Canada continues with 3000+ genital mutilations per year.
And since they are not adults
Canadian infants, children, and young people are not given the right of informed consent, access to records of the mutilations, or the right to sue for trauma/malpractice/loss of feeling/sterility. You don't have those rights until you are 18 in Canada. Seriously.
Europe thinks its barbaric too.
Pretty funny eh?
Some redneck's having a good laugh.
look it up.
Brazil bans the genital mutilation of children and adolescents,
Canada continues with 3000+ genital mutilations per year.
And since they are not adults
Canadian infants, children, and young people are not given the right of informed consent, access to records of the mutilations, or the right to sue for trauma/malpractice/loss of feeling/sterility. You don't have those rights until you are 18 in Canada. Seriously.
Europe thinks its barbaric too.
Pretty funny eh?
Some redneck's having a good laugh.
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