Smoking Mirrors — Dec 7, 2013
Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Why does CIA-Wikileaks operative Sarah Harrison seem to be joined at the hip to Edward Snowden? Apparently they’ve been surgically separated recently. Never mind. Never mind.
Okay, let’s stay with the relevant issues. Certainly the economic situation is worth thinking about. Then there’s that mysterious ghost rider in the sky, Planet Niburu, AKA- Planet X. There’s the truly ridiculous and there’s the scholarly. I won’t be there linking the scholarly, I’ll leave that to you. Someone asked me at the conference about this planet. I forget what I said but it was probably something along the lines of, “I’m not going to worry about it”. I spend a lot of time hanging around the drugstore at the corner of Shit and Shinola and I hear things. Of course, since most of it’s bullshit I won’t bother to share any of it with you. Planet Niburu was supposed to come along as an exclamation point on the New Age plot synopsis for the end of the Mayan calendar on December 2012. Now it is scheduled to arrive in 2016 or 2017, thus giving us a welcome several years for idle speculation and maybe a few business opportunities, depending on your areas of interest and degree of self interest.
I haven’t got a clue as to what is coming. If I measure the potential for dreadful possibilities in relation to the degree of materialism, juxtaposed by collective ignorance and indifference, I would say we’re looking at a pretty good body count, more or less, probably more. I’ve no way of knowing how much awakening is going to take place, due to Mr. Apocalypse and the increasing rate of taps from the one handed drum roll of his walking stick. John Bonham ain’t got nothing on him. My theory is that Mr. Apocalypse, like most incarnate archetypes, has a pair of invisible arms, with attached hands (of course) and that accounts for the presence of what appears to be an impossible number of percussive hits coming from what might seem to be the action of a single appendage. All this aside, I’m of the opinion that you could hit certain people on the head over a million times without an appreciable change in consciousness. That’s just how it works, or should I say, doesn’t work.
I don’t know. To me it just seems like it’s going to go on and on. Maybe that’s a personal thing and won’t be the same everywhere else. I keep getting the feeling that no matter what happens some places will remain untouched. Now… where those places might be, I wouldn’t hazard to guess. Some of them, no doubt, will be in outlying areas and some of them will be more of a “How the fuck did that happen?” variety. It could be that whole areas remain intact while other areas cease to be entirely or… nothing at all might happen and we will simply expire from boredom in the process of waiting for something to happen. What I plan on doing is going on with my life, trying to make each day as productive as possible and hope that makes some small difference at all in the scheme of things. Well, if it even makes a small difference in me, I’ll be grateful.
It isn’t the easiest thing in the world to have a running commentary on a world I never see except second hand, through media and whatever more esoteric means of observation may be available to me (grin). Seriously though, I can feel it going on out there, out there, wherever out there may be. It shifts around these days. Evil has no single port of call. It goes where the materialism is and also where the materialism wants to be. It goes where it’s been going since it first arrived wherever that was and where it got greeted with open arms and it goes where it’s never been, in order to see if there’s anyone around who might develop a taste for it. It moves in next door and it moves in down the street. It comes in though the front door and goes out the bathroom window, most thoughtfully opened by the last person that flushed the toilet; one might hope they opened it. It doesn’t actually arrive anywhere that it’s not been invited or being waited on.
All sorts of less attractive characteristics can attract it, even fear can attract it, without having done anything to be frightened about. Fear makes evil in residence very possible because there is small likelihood that evil will be inconvenienced in any way during its stay and also, given the fecund climate of fear, which is very fertile ground for evil, evil can be fruitful and multiply. Evil likes being fruitful and multiplying as much as it likes leaving town once it’s done. There are other fields to plow after all and new and localized evils will surely sprout up following evil’s departure. You can think of evil as something like a year round touring reggae band, except that would be politically incorrect, so we’ll compare it instead to anything you want to compare it to that leaves unwanted progeny in its wake. After awhile it’s all a familiar part of the landscape. It’s been there long enough to be considered part of the scene, even though there was a time when it’s presence was unknown … and gratefully so. Yes, it’s the curse of the familiar and evil is well aware of the power of that. What shouldn’t be takes the place of what used to be, until what is is a perversion on the power of now (grin) and finally it appears that what you have is what you’ve always had. That’s not true but it looks like that and everyone around you acts as if it is and before you know it there are laws set up all over the place to protect those perversions on the power of now, to legitimize them as it were.
Evil is nothing if not facile and adaptive. It’s truly chameleon like. Evil knows how to dress the part. It’s social haute couture and celebrated from Paris to New York and Milan to Marrakesh, everywhere that the low life enjoys the high life at the expense of all other life. The legislatures and legal systems are all in line with the program. It’s a shame but that’s how it goes when you got those Planetary Kali Yuga Blues. Alcohol magnifies it and useful drugs minimize it. Everything is backwards and upside down.
It is a time that takes forever to run out of time. It’s a time that land forgot about the people from the land with no people, for the people with no land and that’s less of a problem when you drive away all the inhabitants that used to live there in order for it to be no longer populated. Evil is a fellowship of kindred spirits and families whose genetic predisposition is toward the practice of it. It is composed of everything and everyone whose attraction to the density of matter is greater than their attraction to anything else. Naturally they would seek to control the diamond market because these stones are the only thing that is harder than their hearts. If coal is the last repository of forgotten evil in an archaeological sense and which, just like oil, burns quite nicely for good reason, then diamonds are the most concentrated and compressed expression of evil in a dead material state. Diamonds are a cosmic symbol of glittering indifference. There’s nothing beautiful about them. That’s all manufactured. All they are is white shiny glass. They don’t have anywhere near the allure of other precious stones. They are celebrated for being rare when there is nothing rare about them. What they do is lock up the mass of diamonds in vaults so there will be the perception that they are rare. They are not. They do have practical, technical applications however.
Diamonds are not a girl’s best friend and they are certainly not a black man’s best friend. That got proven quite well in South Africa when the Tribe members behind the plundering of the mines enslaved and brutalized the natives in order to build their empire. They’d maxed out their investments in the slave trade some time earlier and needed to move on to new and even more profitable horizons in the same general locations. Of course, with the legal and moral constraints taken off of the industry, they’re back in a big way with the sex slave traffic of the moment. That’s got a big ass United Nations seal of approval decal slapped on it. There’s no depravity that the servants of evil will not sink to. There are no limits of conscience because there is no conscience so engaged. It was the victim of a mysterious crib death; ♫Don’t you know we’re riding on the SIDS Express♫
Oh well, another day, another posting, one more Jeremiad wafting out of the wilderness, some kind of future consciousness bomb, hopefully timed for a world more open to the possibilities. It can’t be anything like the world of the moment. There’s little room for complex meaning and none at all for simple meaning; meaning what? How would I know?
Well, there’s always tomorrow. As I sit here this evening, I tell myself there is always tomorrow but that’s not true. One of these days tomorrow won’t come. One of these days tomorrow won’t come for each and every one of us. Some rare and infinitesimal amount of us will pass into that place of the eternal tomorrow, into that day where the sun rises forever and never reaches mid heaven. Some greater amount of us will pass into another day where the sun goes down and does not come back up and the rest of us will wander through a gray twilight, coming and going, over and over, through fogs of perpetuating self delusion, in search of light, in search of clarity and an end to confusion. Will it come. We shall see… where that applies.