Rectal Dysfunction Rats from Lodi and the Darkside Blues Again

Reflections in a Petri Dish — Oct 9, 2013

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
There is a long concealed mystery about dolphins and what they represent behind the scenes. This is known to some and unknown to most. Other mysteries are now manifesting out of Nature, as the subconscious end of the manifest; that which lies and thrives below the surface, comes forward to engage those industries whose unseen hands pull at the death knell bell, now ringing in the ethers where only those with ears can hear.
These days the main focus of prognosticators, for-soothsayers and traveling carnival fortune tellers, of which economists make up the larger share, are also representatives of this Day of the Triffids jellyfish thing, as that substance inside their cranial cavity is exactly the same as the underwater revolutionaries lurking about the power plants and who are especially drawn to Isra-Hell. Unfortunately for the host bodies, they are not revolutionary in this location but rather expressions of the ‘feeding upon’ parasite sector. It makes sense that they would be most attracted to the greatest bipedal parasites on the planet.
I’ve been getting a lot of messages lately of coming attractions scheduled for the main stage of existence. You can tell where that is because it has the most lights, the biggest speakers and the most powerful smoke machines. You’ll also note in the VIP grassslands back of the stage that there is a frightening collection of stretch limos because… the bigger the asshole the longer the limousine. It was Henry Kissinger who first make this fact widely known during the Paris Piece of Ass Talks. Portions of exploded posterior flesh were all over the place, the result of Central Banker IED’s that had been placed in population areas throughout South East Asia, wherever desirable power sources had been located. Tim Burton’s twisted sister, Halli Burton was the early prototype of turbo skanks like Susan Rice and Samantha Powers. These are the train pulling sluts for the bareback demon riders, ridden hard and put away in flames They’re all members in bad standing of HHS, which stands for Hecate Humping Stations. Like the earliest exponents from The Land of Pimps and Psychopaths. If you don’t know who that is, you’re probably turning tricks and are unaware of it, given that the initial pain of intrusion goes away, leaving you only with that empty ‘needing to be filled’ condition known as Jim Baker Syndrome.
Sometimes things are funny but not amusing, like when they are ridiculous and evil at the same time. Such is the easily observable state these days of the figureheads on the sunken ships of state. As often stated here, evil goes through certain predictable stages, finally it becomes an embodiment of the absurd and ridiculous. This is the point where all power is being drained out of it and mostly resembles that of limp party lizards after a long weekend of GHB and gin. The only sure defense against forgetting to take off the cock ring prior to crashing is to not put it on in the first place. Everywhere we are seeing signs of this absurd and ridiculous, like the undercover cops at the SUV beating. Following this sort of chicanery we get a million marchers here and a million marchers there and soon enough you find yourself paraphrasing Everett Dirkson with, “pretty soon you’re talking about real crowds.” Oh, they’ve got to be having a lot of night sweats, waking up cold and damp in the early hours, those feckless frauds, who’ve tried to squeeze the life out of every one and everything around. Judgment is coming. I can see the aperture of patience closing as I write these words. Some of the plug uglies, like Kissinger, David Rockefeller, assorted Rothschilds and other bloody fiends have been kept alive for their moment, now swinging a weighted bat in the on deck circle. There’s been time enough given for all of these hoodwinking hollow men and women to make their positions known in triplicate and more in the collective consciousness. They’ve descended the dark stairway from every profession. They’ve been confident that down is up until they’re all the way down, right at the great flaming gates, so to speak.
I am guessing you now see why it’s taken so agonizingly long to get to the moment of epiphany where we now find ourselves. Yes, these rectal dysfunction rats are about to shit themselves out into another dimension where the soundtrack is all wailing and gnashing of teeth. There’s going to be a lot of chattering teeth as well. They armed themselves to the teeth and put into action all manner of repressive technologies, so as to be in readiness for the inevitable force of revolution, which they brought about by their Draconian tactics and ball point pen perversions (makes me think of the archetypal ball point pen perversion but… why digress?). The one thing they didn’t expect was the mounting fear, coming out of nowhere to curdle their entrails. They didn’t anticipate the sudden appearance of overwhelming confusion. Their hands reach for the controls but are trembling so badly that they can’t carry out what they had initially planned. They’re stuck in Lodi with the Darkside Blues again. It’s like what happened at The Battle of Morannon. Believe me, that’s just what it will be like. All power comes from one place. All power is borrowed. All avenues through which power courses can be switched over or reversed at any time. Despite the absence of their appearance, there are rules. There have always been rules. That period known as the Kali Yuga is notorious for obscuring the operation of certain rules. It’s a bit of a free for all, as long standing karma finally gets addressed and doesn’t look anything like it was expected to because of all the Halloween characters dressed up as someone else. From oil lords to Montgomery Wards, it’s all on the conveyor belt, headed for the long awaited light of day or… the crematorium.
♫I feel pretty, pretty shitty. I feel pretty much like it’s all a lie and I pity anyone who doesn’t get to die♫ ♫Rape and pillage, rape and pillage, let’s go out and burn a native village♫
It should be pretty clear how it all got to be like it is. When materialism rises preeminent over the capacity for objective reasoning and the capacity for clear and unbiased observation, one is inextricably caught in a web of delusion and from that point, one step follows another, right off course, right into the rough and then into the werewoods, driven by strange and uncontrollable appetites, further and further it goes as the band stretches and stretches until it can stretch no more and then is whipped back to the point at which it was diverted, making serious havoc of all the illusions it gave birth to on the way. Everything unnatural, everything extant in opposition to the rules of Nature, which can only be violated at the peril of the violator, has emerged out of the womb of materialism. There’s a reason that communism is called Dialectical Materialism. There’s a reason that insidious political correctness comes out of communism. There’s a reason that alternative sexual drives become more and more perverse until the closest associate of sex is death. Twisting the force which interpenetrates all interactions is the key to transforming the world into a flaming dumpster. One step follows another until you arrive here –  - . Soon enough, that too is in the rear view mirror. Who makes things like this possible? Who is that in the background that arranges things like that? In the same country you get all of the other operations with a common goal, like this lovely psyop. Some of us might think we know where they are ultimately directing all of this. Think of the worst possible permutations, south of Jeffrey Dalmer, complete with religious trappings and you’re in the neighborhood. Welcome to Sick Shit Central, brought about by tiny steps, a passage of increments; point A, to point B, to point C and then point D and on and on. They counterpoint all of this with the music, publishing, art gallery ownership and all areas of entertainment, which they own and operate. It’s morphed into a 360 degree environment, a large self contained bubble of noxious circumstances,odors and weird tastes that seem perfectly normal, once normal has been dragged out of the building and burned at the stake for not accepting the worst as the official template of existence.
One of the reasons for the relentless war against Islam is that the majority of the practitioners are reasonable souls, which is why the extremists birthed out of Zionist Saudi Arabia are held up as an example of the whole, which it is not. On the opposite end is the Synagogue of Satan, rearing it’s demented head out of the borrowed power of the penultimate zone of materialism at it’s zenith. It’s time is fading fast. It’s captive religion of christian fundamentalism and the Pederast Sacristies are restless and matriculating toward inevitable rebellion. Nothing generates so much anger as the dawning awareness that one has been manipulated and lied to over a long term. Right down the middle of it all comes the Long Train Running; ♫without Love where would you be right now♫?
Because so many of us are trapped in that bubble of total immersion in a delusionary environment, the collective force of the larger body of the population keeps Shit County on the map. Some number of us are now living only in the echo. We’re coming out of it, as the numbers increase, which they will, the power of this surrounding fabricated environment is going to start to disolve; good news for most of us, should we catch on and bad news for some who depend with all their might on maintaining the garbage world that has enclosed so many of us for so long. Day by day, the words from Yeat’s “Second Coming” become more valid. It is precisely as he said. Yeat’s was a member of The Golden Dawn which, was cutting edge at one point and then, like all such efforts in the Kali Yuga, turned into something else. There’s a little island in a lake in Ireland where Yeat’s Castle is located, it was for sale for half a million Euro for awhile. I wanted it but… I suspect there were serious limitations on occupancy and what one could do there and even more serious limitations on my financial access. Still, it was a nice fantasy while I had it.
Oh well, here we are, ever so close to what is yet to be formed but is already existent in the unseen, precipitating bit by bit until it is right there in front of you. No matter how much power you imagine to be in the hands of the reprobates, it is all a vanishing phantom. Regardless of it’s enterprising run in the Kali Yuga, it’s course is about to end. Evil ALWAYS destroys itself. It’s a law. Fasten your seatbelts.
End Transmission…….

Source

Otherwise known as Smoking Mirrors, Les Visible provides a voiceover in a disintegrating culture as Reflections in a Petri Dish. While in his guise as Visible Origami, Les offers perspectives on the invisible forces shaping our world

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