Smoking Mirrors – June 26, 2012
Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Well, the bleat goes on, as million of sheep pursue The Silence of the Lambs. The proof for the poetry and policy of what happened in Iceland (read the comments below the video) is now beyond dispute. This is the template for what must be done around the world. We have spoken often about removing all of your assets from the hands and control of the vampire bankers. We have recommended recurrent national work and ‘spend no money’ strikes, in all affected lands, as a means toward bringing the governments, corporations and bankers to their knees. There are two options which will eliminate the toxic plague of the financial lampreys from the body collective. One method is, ‘the island of bankers’, something along the lines of Devil’s Island, which would be a most appropriate name. In this option, all central banksters and their various enablers would be permanently quarantined on a remote island, somewhere in some ocean. This would be a forced labor camp, where they would receive food and a certain amount of amenities, in exchange for specific industry. That industry would be to build a high wall, all around their living compound with a single gate for ingress and egress. This encircling wall would stand as lasting testimony to the dangers presented by those so contained The other possibility is The Ceauşescu option. The expected result would most likely be a combination of the two.
There are no rational or reasonable arguments for any other actions, except to place them in the prison systems of each of the affected countries. Since Corfu is one of the residences of the banker scum in chief, that location might be a consideration. One wonders about all those private and secret locations, that aren’t private and aren’t secret. One wonders about all those getaways twinkling in their ‘for a few dollars more’, for a few days more, universe. Is that all going to still be around? Is it even still around now, as the Fukushima wind and rain, falls not mainly on the plain, or in Spain? It’s right about now when I start thinking about things like quick brown foxes jumping over lazy dogs. That will pass; momentary hiatus, in the pressing forward, of the moment and moments, all those intrigues and plots are going to collectively bring forth, in a twisted kind of ‘be fruitful and prosper’ way. Way? No way.
There are places for the rest of us, if we take the tour and you can have few days here and a few days there and… all of these places, to some degree, some major, some less so, are touched by the Fukushima wind and rain. The situation is not stable …even yet, or did I miss the announcement. Some times I am away from my desk, a couple of days here and there and maybe it all got fixed, while I was away. My preference is, ‘mais oui’ but I have not seen what I wanted to see; the Royals and Rothschild’s owned utility BP, poisoned The Gulf of Mexico and water tends to find itself, cause it will travel through every crevasse and crease. Sooner or later the BP, Hell Bitch will meet up with the Fukushima Slut. Somewhere in that hog wallowing entropy, we will see what is what; delayed here, advanced there, detoured through a roundabout, it goes where it goes, for whatever the reason may be, in those times when humanity has lost it’s reason and “Hello, I’ll be your waiter, Uranus …and Pluto here is the sommelier. Others may well also attend you. I will tell you what we have and you can tell me what you want and the giant millstone that is rotating around the dining area will grind out for what there is”.
My own focus, given my love of Lady Nature, is upon these things. No mention is being made about them. I guess they were some kind of non event. Did these things just get fixed while I was sleeping? Otherwise it seems very strange. Wouldn’t you think that experts and technicians all over the world would have raced to these places? Does it mean these things can’t be fixed?
I have no burning motivation to survive here. I do not consider myself a welcome guest. As the cycles always show and always continue, some portion of us has stolen everything that can be stolen from all of the rest. Even now, with more than they could ever spend, they are looking to get more. Well, you never know? Maybe all the wood and coal will disappear and then those packed bundles of currency might just keep you warm.
Surely some will read these words and say, “visible, that is a little extreme”. These bankers are just people who made a few mistakes”. That is true and I have made mistakes too. I have been excessive in my pursuit of meaning and didn’t count the cost, as a fine lady once said, ‘Tis this desire of bending all things to our own purposes, which turns them into confusion and is the chief source of every error in our lives” so, I have my own Occupy movement and that is Occupy Me. I’m going to occupy me. That’s the only way to find out who the landlord is and the value of it.
Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on those bankers. We all make mistakes. They may have been reckless and I have been reckless. They have been irresponsible. I have been too. I’m trying to get around to justifying my right to say anything, for surely, I am dissolute. Never mind that I manage and maintain, trying to soften the blows upon my heart, as it so happens, being a witness to the wreckage on the plain.
The price of doing business in Kali Yuga is whatever you have to compromise yourself with to get through it. Some have the discipline to hammer themselves down through the course of it. I lack that restraint. I don’t care what it costs me, in terms of manageable luminescence, if the sacrifice bought the fait accompli. We’re not so far apart, you and I, bankers. We both want it all. It just comes down to how much our conscience can tolerate the doing of it, at someone else’s expense.
When they killed tens of millions in Russia were those bankers they shot? When they did it in the Ukraine and in Ireland was it bankers that starved? During the French Revolution, was it bankers that met La Madame? Now, the usual suspects are in Libya, carving up what there is. They’re proactive in Syria and let’s not forget Iran. Somebody is making a whole lot of money and somebody is visiting all those beaches and resorts. It seems they like them some respite from the relentless, with all inclusive jollies and their own kind of jolie. When Germany got fed up with the bankers, like before when Wilson turned over the printing press, a whole lot of people died. There’s all kinds of evidence, all kinds of evidence. You may not want to see it. You think it’s safer to just agree, that things which didn’t happen, happened …and things that happened didn’t happen. Bad magic is in the cauldron between the devil and the deep blue sea.
These poor bankers, they’ve made some errors and what the fuck, “are we not all honorable men”? The arms merchants and the people who sell the history books, to the schools for your children and those who use them for party favors, I guess you would have to say some of that was wrong, but we all make mistakes. We all get fucked up now and again. Sometimes we even get fucked and we like it. Those are all factors in the theme, from Samarkand to Sayonara, to Somerset Maugham. We all take care of our duties, in the embassy outposts and occasional consulates, in our postings at home and abroad. Most of us work with the bankers, who build the maze and hide the cheese. It will work out tomorrow, or next week. It does work out somehow, it’s just not what you want. The carrot is closer now and so is the stick.
There is no degree of complexity here, go back to 2008… go back to the theft of your saving and industry, to salvage the banker estate. They committed real crimes. There were discussions and debates. There was talk of prosecutions but so far… heh heh, Bend over and Wait.
No, I see no prosecutions, no criminal charges. The same blood ticks are siphoning. Their governmental fluffers are keeping them at the ready. Their enforcement arms are wearing earpieces and sunglasses, or uniforms here and there. They are all fucked up on patriotism, for some non existent county. They’re all fucked up about their mothers and apple pie. They are generally fucked up but they got the law on their side.
There should be a poem somewhere about the banker and the president, walking on the beach. It doesn’t have to involve oysters. There are other shellfish in the sea and even many fishes for the moment but that’s bound to decrease. BP and Fukushima have both said their piece. With Rio Tinto (Hi Ho Silver!) and Rothschild, Monsanto, Smith, Kline and French; sounds like the law firm from Hell and they probably is. The banks and the corporations, they are what they are, in the world where you live and you will go on and endure this for as long as you can.
Somewhere a golden age lies secreted in our dreams. It really wants to happen but other things must happen first. You can pray, or work all day, or you can gum up the works. It looks like it will find its own solution, due to ‘when push comes to shove’ and where the stability below, can no longer sustain the fragile above… that ephemeral illusion of hedge and derivatives cause, they just can’t get enough. They truly are vampires and worse than that. They don’t even drink most of the blood. They spill it out on the ground for the dark ones they serve and who nestles in their head, snuggy and comfy. Hey, what can you say? That’s how they do it: ♫I did it my way♫
Something interesting, is coming to a theater of operations near you, soon.
This weekends radio show is available for download.
Song: ♫Smoke and Mirrors♫
Lyrics (pops up)