The Razor’s Edge (3): Dhrama!

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One rule for us

For you another

Do unto yourself

As you would see fit for your brother

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Is that not within your realm of understanding?

A fifty second capacity of mind too demanding?

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Oh then, poor unfortunate you

There are a myriad of things you can do

Like pick up a pad and paper

Or go and talk to a friend

The history of the future

No violence or revenge

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Your shame is never ending

Just one psychological drama after another

You are guilty, so how you ever entered into this life

God only knows the infinite complexities of love

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We all have the ability, our freedom is fragile

We all laugh and cry don’t we?

We all bleed and we smile

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“Drama”

Erasure

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living tiki personal post note: Don’t call it a comeback. Just another (extremely long) delay in postings and comment responses. To all my readers – from the trolls to those who seriously love me – I’m deeply sorry. I have neglected much. Another post became extremely difficult for me to get out – 2013 has just been a continuation of 2012 which has overwhelmed me, shut me down, and turned my brain into a lobotomized armadillo on a pogo stick. A mental breakdown of sorts (point – evil ones). Yet the fact that I did get it out is significant. It means a change must occur – I really can’t tolerate this theater reality anymore. I must stop having a flirtation with overstanding this reality…  and truly get to it. And I must stay connected.

And grounded (where else would a tiki be?). I have been recarved.

So consider this post is an eclectic mishmash of the events of the past few months (except for Bean Town – that’s next and soon).

And now the beginning of a transition into something better….. 

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The header photo is from June 2011 – a hockey riot in Vancouver had caused police to knock down Australian Scott Jones and his Canadian girlfriend Alexandra Thomas as they exited a pub watching the game. Alexandra injured her ankle, couldn’t stand, and was starting to freak out at everything instantly happening. Scott decided that kissing her was the best way to calm her down. It is still unknown why people started rioting over a stupid hockey….

hey wait a minute, the Canucks lost?! And to those Boston wankers? Oi, I feel like smashing something! You! You look like a Bruins fan, I don’t like your face! Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you say that over here?! You and your mama!

*ahem*  Sorry about that. Not so much a hockey fan as I am of a good bar brawl every now and then.

OK, OK… I’m just a fan of alcohol.

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And a good punch.

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(Image provided by the Celtic Rebel. I’m certain other punches can be provided as well.)

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Alright, now that I’ve thoroughly confused everybody and lost half the readers, I guess it’s time to actually have some relevant information.

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THE GREAT ANTI-CLIMAX

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Yep, folks, we all just went through a fail, a disappointment, and a coitus interruptus all rolled into one. Sort of like being a young boy back in 1980 and saying to yourself in a movie theater:

“Hey, it’s been like over an hour and a half already and Han Solo just got taken by Boba Fett. Is there even gonna be time left for a rescue? Wait, why are the characters lining up like the end of the first film? This can’t be the end of the movie! It can’t be… more stuff needs to happen! Wait… end credits?! Noooooooooo!

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It was the first time I ever encountered a “….to be continued” for a movie. It wouldn’t be continued for another three years, and we all now know what conclusion I was rewarded with for my involuntary patience.

Well, all of us on planet Earth just went through basically the same thing. Surely something was supposed to happen around the Mayan end-date and….. nothing. To be continued.

More than that, I think everyone – burnt-out and overwhelmed with this BS artificial reality – expected at least a change, or an end to the way our civilization has been run so far.  Kind of like how everyone expected World War I to be the “war to end all wars” (That sure worked out well). Nope. To be continued. With the same old bullshit.

Lights, camera, action…

drama!

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Please won’t you help keep us employed by paying attention to what we say and do? Otherwise we’ll have to go back to our standby occupation of ‘Jew semen receptacles.’

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[Above image taken from Hollywood's YouTube reaction to Sandy Hook, but not created by me]

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You’d think that the Sandy Hook shooting, being so ridiculously fake, would’ve been the trigger event to finally make the masses wake up and demand some serious reality, but no. They’d still rather demand a plan to end gun violence, or demand their congressperson end Obamacare, or demand that GMO food products be labeled with a warning.

But tiki, aren’t these actions doing good and making positive change?

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Ask yourself this: When did they have a vote to forbid GMO’s from being used in our food?

Can’t remember? That’s because they didn’t.

You only get to vote on if you are told about their use.

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This reality is not yours. It’s theirs. It’s why I call them the evil shapers of our reality. Face it, you were born and raised on an occupied planet. You will get their reality whether you like it or not, and they also like to exploit your possible resistance to it by influencing you to stand in front of your local supermarket trying to get everyone to vote yes on prop 37.

I think wasteful causes like that are actually done by the evil ones simply for the comedic entertainment value….

What will win over the minds of supermarket shoppers today…. fearful ignorance or compliant zombification?

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Has everyone had enough of fake girlfriends yet?

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(And no, my last TALES FROM THE VOLCANO doesn’t count. I wasn’t trying to gain sympathy from a fictional girlfriend’s fictional death to help win a game for Notre Dame. Plus my fictional dialogue for my fictional girlfriend was just slightly more realistic.)

“tiki babe, if anything happens to me, you promise that you’ll stay there and you’ll write and you’ll honor me through the way you write. Until then, I eagerly and passionately await the next opportunity to be your exotic love slave. XOXO, Haruka.”

(See the difference?)

By the way, Manti Te’o was just recently given a job with the San Diego Chargers. I’m still waiting for someone to give me millions to blog.

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How about fake schoolteachers?

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I profiled Christa in a prior post long ago, but when I was under the belief she had really died….

Nowadays Ed Chiarini just makes me shake my head and say “…figures.”

What is the real truth about both supposedly disastrous shuttle missions?

Who cares anymore? It’s becoming a whole full moon of lies. NASA probably had an easier time faking the moon landing than making Kirk Douglas’ wife appear to be a different person, considering that he’s married to The Joker: 

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Didn’t need Ed’s ear comparison, just that smile. Still appreciate the effort though.

Just for fun, see if you can guess the well known actor playing the (fictional) role of the last astronaut to walk on the moon, Gene Cernan (video spotted by Ed – nice catch):

Click here and think of Moses

And please don’t freak out when he says “… go back to Mars”. He meant our attention, yet he does want you to waste your time thinking he made a Fruedian slip.

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Some readers may think I’m a bit harsh at times on these people faking my reality. I honestly try to refrain from attacking them superficially [i.e. looks], but it seriously pisses me off how warped they are making our human reality.

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One thing’s for sure, you won’t find the truth on C-SPAN.

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Had enough of the drama?

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Much like Darren, I know I have. I get enough of it in my personal daily life, never mind spillover from other people’s personal daily lives. Not too surprisingly, the ultimate cause of all that drama can be traced back to them, but the responsibility for it….

that’s all you, baby. 

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living tiki personal note: [Sorry, this post gets a bit drunken-rambly, and I'm gonna include some boring personal life stuff now, so conspiracy bustin' starts a little further and you may have to look for it. Did I mention I'm a fan of alcohol?]

You may remember this series from a while ago – My attempt to understand the programming implanted in all of us concerning men and women, gender roles, relationships, and naturally, World War I.

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I jokingly mentioned WWI, but not really – I see it as the beginning of the consolidation (not uniting) of the world and it’s people (to make the programming of everyone easier, and that’s about the time I see Celtic Rebel’s social engineering started showing up).

The film The Razor’s Edge covers a lot of that territory. I’ve made it this series theme because for the past year I’ve felt much like the main character played by Bill Murray. Searching for meaning and purpose, he worked simple, laborious jobs such as coal mining and fish-packing to support himself, but also to free his thoughts in which to observe the reality around him and study the writings of philosophical masters by candlelight at night. He was also torn between two women.

I’ve been working simple, laborious jobs for the past year, but not willingly. When I started this blog to overstand reality (not “escape” it), little did I know a series of unfortunate events would cause me to fall into a increasing debt spiral. I’m sure you’ve caught some commentary about that. I’ve personally lost a large amount of time and money along with a good part of what I used to own. And trust me, when you’re injured, vultures do show up.

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Yet so do Samaritans, and I would like every one of my donators to know their funds did not go towards any of the crap of our prison reality, but were mainly spent on delicious vegetarian nourishment and a variety of liquid entertainment [did I mention I'm a fan of alcohol?] Just wish I could’ve added some practice at one handed bra-unhooking to that list.

Every time I worked harder to get out of my nightmare (with only menial jobs available part-time to supplement my full time job), some new problem or situation would arise to counter any progress. Like my vehicle breaking down beyond affordable repair at the beginning of December (and me just recently spending a lot getting it smogworthy).

It now takes me an hour and a half to get to work by bus.

Three hours of my day taken up by travel, five days a week. I’d say there’s nothing more motivating than that to rise above my present predicament. Well that, and the fact that occasionally someone might pull out a machete on the bus and cut somebody, which happened to the bus just fifteen minutes prior to mine – the one we passed surrounded by twelve cop cars.

One more just for laughs….

I was writing most of this post during my first week off from work in over a year (I wouldn’t call it a vacation). My first day off was on a Sunday, but I had to go to my full-time job on Saturday so they could get the maximum amount of work out of me before I was gone a week ["Yeah... I'm gonna need you to come in on Saturday" - someone was actually wearing a t-shirt of that quote on the bus that day! - no kidding] but I started off the day with a bad cold which was getting worse with chilly rain. By coming in, my cold turned to pneumonia, and I spent most all of my week off entirely in bed [and I still haven't had the chance to fully recover from... my health is suffering for it.]

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OK. Now I’m done. And I do mean that. I’m tired of the drama.

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How would I define drama (other than the theatrical definition)?

Bullshit in life that wouldn’t exist had this reality happened naturally.

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This false reality becomes more apparent when you view how we are behaving as a species.

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And the nature of how our physical bodies are being targeted.

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Usually it involves targeting will, creativity, passion, and/or our connection to the divine.

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This post is a significant one for me – I feel I’m on the cusp of my life, financial and otherwise, finally coming back into balance. Yet there is still much work to be done (and overcoming a reality induced chronic fatigue) but I will soon be at the starting line I bent a knee upon so long ago. Only this time, I’m more aware of how the race is rigged.

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So I’ll plan on sailing with an outrigger.

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The most kick-ass sailboat ever built: Thor Hyerdahl’s Kon-TIKI!

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Two years ago I predicted that this scene would be in my near future:

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It has extremely annoyed me that I am even further behind on that prediction coming true.

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By the way, by searching for this photo again, it revealed to me the exact location of actual Heaven. No, I’m not kidding. You see, I thought that photo was staged, that a wonderful place like that could never exist because that would mean it is Heaven.

Yet it’s real… it exists! HEAVEN EXISTS!

The local Japanese deceptively call it Tiki Tiki Yokohama to protect the identification of Heaven, and have hidden it near Yokohama’s Railway station:

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Actual Heaven. I could be drunk in actual Heaven right now!  [sobbing]

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“Why yes, scantily hula-clad Japanese Heaven angel…. I am a fan of alcohol!”

- I could be saying that in Heaven right now!  [more sobbing]

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And I would experience no ordinary intoxication, oh no my friends.

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This would be Heaven-drunk.

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And I could be there! Right now! Drunk in Heaven!

Click here to experience YouTube audio of the song playing in Heaven right now!

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But why?

Why am I not Heaven-drunk right now Heaven-drunkenly attempting to sample one of Heaven’s angels’ coconut-bra milk?

WHY?

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Because I allowed the drama get to me, and forgot that I continuously create my own reality. And by letting the drama get to me, I also allowed bad luck, financial fluctuations, vultures, and daily drama to get to me too. What’s the result? The opposite of Heaven! [more sobbing]

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Plus the evil ones often enjoy creating certain drama that’s kinda hard to ignore because it kinda does real stuff like kill people and destroy property….

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The quake, tsunami, and Fukushima meltdown were all part of a disastrous, crippling event designed and artificially made to happen. I explained that in a prior post… just wanted to remind everybody the evil ones are often that evil in their shaping of reality.

There are currently three U.S. Navy sailors suing Japan’s power company, TEPCO, because as part of rescue and assistance after Fukushima they were told by the U.S. Navy it was safe because TEPCO told the Navy it was safe. These sailors are having major health issues and were continuing to set off radiation alarms for many months after the incident.

That’s just three U.S. sailors who were exposed for less than a week.

Imagine what the people who live there are going through.

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Thankfully 60,000 of them gathered in a prominent park last year to tell their government they’ve had it with this bullshit (And if the evil ones didn’t start fucking with Japan about 150 years ago, most of their government would be falling on swords in shame right now. Hint, hint.)

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age of volcanoes action news flash: There has been an unprecedented number of seals and sea lions that have beached themselves along the U.S. west coast (including my local area) due to dehydration, starvation, and confusion. Some have wandered far inland and have even jumped into people’s vehicles which stopped to help. The mainstream news cites the cause as a possible major change in food availability or migration. the age of volcanoes asks you: What major change to the Pacific Ocean has occurred in the past year?

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Yet despite my recent discovery that actual Heaven is located in Yokohama, Japan’s drama is their drama that they have to deal with it. Mine is here. I can only support them with what I can and remind them they are preserving Heaven.

Well, OK, actually just one level of Heaven – like Dante’s Inferno, my Heaven has multiple levels… seven in all. OK, OK… six to be honest: Level 5 is exactly like Level 4 – the Tiki Tiki Yokohama Level – but topless.]

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And all I can do for you, dear readers, is to alert you as to spotting this bullshit drama, how it’s going down, and how you can possibly stop it by rising above it… maybe even through inspiration from some real men during World War I…

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Let’s start with this smiling joker who’s been prominently in the news as of late, our Vice-President Joe Biden:

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He laughed during the debates like he already knew the game was rigged for him to win. But it wasn’t rigged. He knew the bullshit drama he and his evil buddies were spewing forth would most assuredly ‘prompt’ the idiot masses out there to vote the way he wanted.

Yes, we are all that gullible and moronic. It’s how we’ve been programmed – to get caught up in the drama. Next thing you know, you’re standing in front of a supermarket trying to get people to vote yes on Prop. 37. Or freaking out over something called a “Sequestration”.

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Yet Ed Chiarini discovering that this man who plays the fake persona of Joe Biden also plays a couple of other fake personas starts to make his smiling even more understandable, and the intent of the programming more apparent.

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Regard his programming as intended to socially engineer a species:

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Joe Biden created a negative election campaign atmosphere, during which he actually told black supporters that Republican economic policies, “unchained …are gonna put y’all back in chains.” [Take note of the recent release of the film, Django Unchained]

Joe Biden is also currently spearheading the legislative drive to ban various firearms in reaction to the Sandy Hook shooting. 

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Donald Trump has been influential in promulgating a competitive, unstable economic system.

Donald Trump (as a presidential candidate) was also influential in rallying people around wasteful conspiratorial drama: Obama’s birth certificate issue.

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Now then…. let’s stop here for a moment to learn why all the gun grabbing law proposals prompted by the fake event Sandy Hook are complete BS by taking a visit to a strange and mystical land…..

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Did you happen to know there’s a place on this planet where the residents are so casual about automatic assault rifles that they’re giving them away for free to teenage girls?

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Happy Birthday, girls! Here’s your assault rifles!

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I know, right?

Insane!

And wearing a bikini along with the assault rifle seems to be encouraged:

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Why are these people are giving guns to the most emotionally unstable demographic of their population?

 Well, it’s most likely a display of force to hostile neighbors by showing them that they are even arming their teenage daughters…

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…but personally I think it’s because they hate men:

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Oh, whoops! Sorry ladies, was that my bad pick-up line?

Excuse me, I was distracted and disturbed by the clown-cone on the counter and somehow didn’t notice you have immediate access to automatic assault rifles.

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Hmm, I’ve really got to get out of this country… armed teenage bikini girls… continuously getting turned on and frightened… rapidly circulating blood flow between heart and penis making me woozy…

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Vagina…

Rifle…

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Vagina…

Rifle…

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Vagina…

Rifle…

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Vagina…

Rifle…

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Vagina…

Rifle…

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Stop, please! I can’t take this anymore! Getting delirious… losing consciousness…

Vagina…

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Rifles!

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*THUNK!*

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[20 minutes later]

Uhhh…. where am I?

Oh….

that’s right, I’m in Israel.

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Say, miss, I didn’t happen to grab your butt, say “vagina”, and then pass out, did I?

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I did?

Crap.

Um… you’re going to kill me now, aren’t you?

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Funny how smiling Joe doesn’t mention that place.

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But what he and the Donald are doing goes far beyond seizing weapons and providing conspiratorial drama-fuel when you take into (Ed’s) account the same actor also plays a third role in our reality: Jimmy Page, the guitarist for Led Zeppelin.

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So… if you were wondering why the hell our government was recently honoring a British rock band, now you know.  

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There you have it folks, the most gay looking award our government bestows. It’s even making Dustin wish he could be Tootsie again.

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Yep, a British rock band. And why the hell would Led Zeppelin even do this?

That’s the official seal of the President in the upper right of this promotional poster:

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Led Zeppelin has been all over the radio and media in the past few months. They recently released 2007 concert video and audio recordings:

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The media even made a big deal at how two Zeppelin songs were going to be played on the TV series Revolution like it was some sort of milestone – they apparently forgot the band had already whored-out by lending a song to a car ad on TV. [Revolution is produced by J.J. Abrams by the way - and there you have a Spielberg-Star Trek-Star Wars connection. And with Zeppelin's Atlantic label, you have a Virgin-Branson-Icke connection. Most all of our reality seems to be happening by design. All these rock bands that the Rebel and Ed are revealing as complete made-up BS are integral.]

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Notably absent from the award ceremony was our vice president, smiling Joe.

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He sure looks incredibly similar to Jimmy Page, doesn’t he?

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For me again, it’s that smile.

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If you want to see something really creepy, watch Jimmy’s performance at the closing ceremony of China’s 2008 Olympics – it not only looks and sounds like some dark occult ceremony, the most disturbing part is that Jimmy never stops smiling.

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If you even slightly examine Led Zeppelin’s music, you will realize it’s a bit more complex than your average rock and utilizes melodies which translate very well into classical music.

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This is a band named Kashmir which classically covers Zeppelin adding a Middle Eastern musical influence.

Here’s the Zeppelin song Kashmir classically rendered to musically illustrate how their songs exhibit an occultish timelessness:

Kashmir by The Symphonic Roadshow

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Oh let the sun beat down upon my face

And stars fill my dream

I’m a traveler of both time and space

To be where I have been

To sit with elders of the gentle race

This world has seldom seen

They talk of days for which they sit and wait

All will be revealed

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“Kashmir”

Led Zeppelin

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It’s quite obvious Led Zeppelin is using familiar melodies that humans consciously and subconsciously respond to. It’s also obvious they are visually influencing our conscious and subconscious too:

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(Thanks to the Celtic Rebel for making me see this album cover again with new eyes.)

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Led Zeppelin is not just a rock band that just happened along. Their music was programming, shaping our perception of reality and laying the groundwork in our society to allow situations like this one to happen:

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“P.I.E.” stands for Pedophile Information Exchange, and as far as I can tell this British man was actually allowed in public with a sign that said: I want to rape your children.

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The ‘groundwork’ is also why the character “Gene Rosen” from fake Sandy Hook is a media favorite instead of being questioned by reporters (or police) why he kept children who had recently experienced the school shooting in his home for over 30 minutes before contacting anyone:

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Wow, Gene seems the least creepy thing in this image.

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The ‘groundwork’ is ultimately the handiwork of the Jews. It’s why very orthodox Jews in Israel will throw stones at women for dressing too provocatively, but don’t seem to have a problem with this situation:

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The above photo from last year is a couple of Israelis enjoying the recent Jewish holiday of Purim, which involves dressing up in Halloween-type costumes. Here’s a couple of costumed Israeli children from this year:

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Happy Purim, everybody! Especially all the residents of New York city!

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The rest of us gentiles have Ishtar:

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And now you know why Jew Hefner dresses goyim women up like bunnies.

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The ‘groundwork’ of insensitivity and racial superiority starts early in Israel. For the rest of us cattle, the ‘groundwork’ of homosexuality and pedophilia starts even earlier.

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If you’re thinking I’m reading way too much into the posture of these Star Wars video game avatars, allow me to show an adult male in the same pose:

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What would you say – gay or normal?

(This is a well known actor – surprising identity revealed at bottom of post.)

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What’s the end result, the desired goal of all this ‘groundwork’?

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Suburbia.

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Lost in the high street, where the dogs run

Roaming suburban boys

Mother’s got a hairdo to be done

She says they’re too old for toys

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Stood by the bus stop with a felt pen

In this suburban hell

And in the distance a police car

To break the suburban spell

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Let’s take a ride and run with the dogs tonight

In suburbia

You can’t hide, run with the dogs tonight

In suburbia

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Break a window by the town hall

Listen, the siren screams

There in the distance, like a roll call

Of all the suburban dreams

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Let’s take a ride and run with the dogs tonight

In suburbia

You can’t hide, run with the dogs tonight

In suburbia

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I only wanted something else to do but hang around

I only wanted something else to do but hang around

Hang around

Hang around

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It’s on the front page of the papers

This is their hour of need

Where’s a policeman when you need one

To blame the color TV?

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“Suburbia”

Pet Shop Boys

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With the Celtic Rebel’s revelation of the meaning of the term “dogs”, the evil ones’ programming has turned the young men of our society into latent homosexual, restless, immature boys ready to take out their frustration with plenty of needless and pointless drama.

In other words, the demographic of our species that is the first and (possibly) only line of defense against our reality being taken over has all been essentially neutered.

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We are now fighting our wars with women…

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…and robots…

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Hey tiki, I kinda got bored with your post and was distracted by an episode of Dr. Who on TV. Weren’t you talking about Joe Biden?

Why yes, imaginary reader in my head, I was. Thanks!

age of volcanoes obscure and pointless pop-culture reference: A tiki dalek!

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The actor who is playing Joe Biden/Donald Trump/Jimmy Page is doing his part to create a reality where all the drama of all the recent shootings isn’t to make you fear the government confiscating your guns and taking over, it’s to make you fear your neighbor.

Especially if he’s black.

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Treyvon Martin is yet more BS theater played out by these actors. This photo should have tipped you off – the lighting, the look… everything about it reeks of a staged professional shot, not one taken randomly by a friend.

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You see, the government doesn’t have to do anything to subdue the populace when they eventually make reality too unbearable to endure – we will do their job for them by attacking each other.

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Forget about the New World Order, there’s a psychopath living down the street! 

And he’s black!

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And he wants payback…

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This ex-LAPD cop turned revengeful assassin is just more BS drama created to make you fear your neighbor. His claims of racism and cronyism are reinforced by all the racial strife ‘groundwork’ laid by Treyvon Martin and a multitude of other fake race “incidents”.

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Yet again, you don’t need Ed’s keen eye to see the deception, you just need to be paying attention – like with this related story intended to make you fear the cops as well: 

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Supposedly, the cops in Torrence thought that this truck was Chris Dorner’s Black Nissan Titan [huh?] and decided to shoot first and ask questions later – You know, questions like: “Hey, I wonder who his passenger might be? I better shoot the fuck out of the passenger side of the window just to be sure it’s not another bad guy.”

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Instead (as the ‘story’ goes), the truck’s occupants were two women delivering newspapers and critically wounded by the cops.

Two women with the biggest lawsuit EVER against the LAPD whom you will NEVER hear about again, because they don’t exist.

age of volcanoes correction: Actually, you did  – they were given an “undisclosed settlement” by LA city officials in March. Now you will never hear about them again.

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Yet all this always begs the question: How does one exist in and overcome this artificial reality, when the fake drama mostly causes very real death and hardship?

Like a world war?

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Like before, I don’t need to tell you how god awful WWI was, just look at any photo.

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Some photos also show how pointless and ridiculous it was too:

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No, that’s not a Monty Python skit – it’s a precursor to radar: The tubes detected the far away sound of approaching aircraft.

Speaking of Monty Python, we have a new Pope:

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If you’ve seen the movie Brazil, you would know this to be a perfect match. (Ed and I discussed the Monty Python connections to all these acting shenanegans on recent Rebel music broadcasts.)

The evil ones are already at work distracting you with the conspiratorial drama: Did the new Pope aid kidnappers during the 70s? Will he be loyal to his Jesuit order? Is he even Hispanic?

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Did the creator of this image even read that statement, or were they blindly reacting with programming? I may be misinterpreting it, but it sounds to me like he’s saying women help men by providing the thinking and doing because men are only perfectly suited to take money and do nothing.

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World War I was artificially made to happen just like every war, terrorist attack, crazy lone shooter, and “natural” disaster is artificially made to happen these days.

If you just casually look at the political cartoons expressing some German opinion at the time on who was really responsible for their involvement and defeat, the usual suspects tend to show up….

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Back-stabbing seems to be the theme.

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Apparently this sentiment was widespread enough to make German Jews produce fliers stating that 12,000 of them had died for the fatherland.

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I’ll leave you to decide whether that number is accurate, but I did want to note the only bit of good (and hope for humanity) that came out of WWI, the Christmas Truce of 1914:

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On Christmas Day 1914 along the western front of the war, British and German fighting had temporarily ceased due to both armies being Christian. Because the new form of warfare – trench warfare – brought the soldiers in close proximity with each other, the week prior allowed the two enemies to see how much they were alike, and realize how they were being unwittingly duped into fighting one another. That day, upon hearing Christmas carols being sung, soldiers from each side ventured out from the trenches and greeted each other in peace.

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Handshakes, cigarettes, and liquor were exchanged by men who just days prior were attempting to brutally kill each other.

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They even played [props to Ms. Robinson] a game of soccer [Germany won].

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Although the fighting resumed the next day, those who participated in the truce (on both sides) no longer had the will to fight effectively and were “reassigned”. Future fraternization of any kind with the enemy was strictly forbidden by the high commands of both armies.

They couldn’t allow people’s humanity to ruin a perfectly good war.

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Such a truce would never take place among the soldiers of today. The men have been programmed too much, seeing reality through the distorted drama of the evil ones’ lenses.

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They have also been programmed to think that manliness is all about bravado and kicking-ass, and where one only needs to present that facade – not even being able to seriously and personally back it up if necessary, because typically they have the evil ones laws (or strength in numbers) on their side.

What’s the result? Roaming suburban boys who went from thinking they were kick-ass wearing their Punisher logo t-shirts….

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(No, no… this pose isn’t gay. Not at all.)

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….to roaming corporate-owned (older) boys who think they are kick-ass wearing their Punisher Blackwater Craft logo ballcaps.

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Or else they are drawn to those occupations which cause the Imperial March from The Empire Strikes Back to continuously run through one’s head:

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Apparently the word ‘overkill’ is not in the Boston Police handbook.

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A message from the living tiki to the Boston Police Department: Guys, if you’ve haven’t realized it by now, martial law… um, I mean a “lock-down”, solves absolutely nothing. All you are doing is denying yourselves and the rest of the males of Boston the simple joy of seeing hot women walking down the street. That’s it.

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Stacy, do you think the testosterone parade is over?

I don’t know, but Jenny’s going downstairs to see….

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You! Female! This is a man-zone! Stay behind the screen door! 

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Is it possible for the men of today to have another “Christmas Truce”? To step outside the drama, the programming, and have the balls enough to walk across a battlefield, weapons left behind and arms extended in friendship?

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Doubtful. They’ve all been “reassigned”.

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What can you take from this post? What is there to be learned? I guess the best way to combat the drama is with dharma, which is simply a hip sounding Indian word for “mindfulness”. Mindfulness of every action you take, and every word you speak. Every song you hear, and every news event you see.

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Drama makes you unmindful and forget yourself.

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And it makes you forget that something as simple (and “unmanly”) as a kiss can change a tragedy into a comedy:

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ONGOWA!

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[You may have guessed Zac Efron, but Clint Eastwood is the man on the phone with his boyfriend.]

TALES FROM THE VOLCANO: The One Second Apocalypse [Part 2]

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age of volcanoes post note: Again, very very sorry about delay. Will explain with another topical post soon [many changes happening in my life, but yet it still sucks.... how did that happen?] In the meantime, take a break from reality with, um… reality?

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I’m here.

What?

I’m here, tiki. 

Haruka. I could barely hear her above the wailing, yet the familiarity in a most unfamiliar environment kept me from screaming as well. Where?

Right beside you, like before.

I thought that was me. What is this? What’s happened? If I currently had a heart, it would’ve been pounding.

I don’t know. I don’t know!

She was still in very close proximity, and I began to feel as if I was absorbing her thoughts and memories. Due to the circumstances, I wasn’t initially focused on her and quickly realized what I was ‘hearing’ was telepathy. I was receiving mental images and thoughts of a life before it was told to me. By focusing my mind I could block out most of the telepathic noise and chatter happening with the billions of minds all clamoring to be heard.

Oh my god! an alarmed thought rang from Haruka’s mind.

I saw it too: One of the lights, far off in the distance, had moved. In a nanosecond it bolted right next to us. It’s light was less bright, and appeared chaotic in it’s streaming. It didn’t feel friendly either – I couldn’t hear it’s thoughts yet sensed it thoroughly examining mine.

Jesus Christ! My mind cried out. The light shot away just as quick as it arrived. There… there it is! I thought to myself as I spied where it had traveled to. It was now extremely far away, repeating what it had done with us with another stationary light. There were hundreds of them as far as I could tell – you couldn’t see them until they moved, and then the movement would seem to be more of a teleportation.

They’re us! The lights are our souls! My mind exclaimed, partly to share with Haruka. Each one of us was a starburst of prismatic white light continuously streaming outward from a center. Whatever the energy generating source was, it’s characteristics did not look physical. Besides, I was seeing it with eyes I didn’t have.  Are we dead?  Why can’t we move? And what the hell are those lights that can? I wondered, again watching them zip back and forth in a game of cosmic pinball.

It was finally then that I was truly able to take in the entire scene around me. I initially looked at the lights as if they were randomly placed, but now could see they took on the slight outline of the continents of the Earth, as if viewing our planet at night from space being illuminated in various areas by outdoor electrical lights. It took me a moment to notice, since I was seeing a concave perspective of the other side of our planet with nothing inside to block the view.

All physical matter seemed to be gone, leaving only that which is not material in the exact place it was when the physical universe disappeared. But why can’t we move? I waited for a possible response from Haruka, but heard none. I focused on her mind and realized her parents were calling out to her, with her answering and likewise calling out to her brother. People were starting to comprehend the nature of our situation, some more than others. I suddenly received a thought from my sister in my mind. Out of the billions of lights I was able to see, I knew exactly which one was her.

I know, I know what’s happened! Haruka thought out. Oh, how could I have been so stupid… I’m an engineer!

Tell me, tell me! I feel like I’m getting stupider by the….. and then I knew too. But the explanation wasn’t given to me, and it didn’t come from Haruka. Some other consciousness had plucked the strings of knowledge in my mind, creating a melody that was the answer. Who? Who was that? I asked …and then I knew that too. My gaze shifted to the center of the empty ‘Earth sphere’ created by all our stationary souls. Oh my god, there She is.

There, at the heart of our currently invisible planet was a singular light, larger and brighter than all the others but not by much, which surprised me. It was the spiritual being which had incarnated into the Earth in order for it to create life. It was Gaia. 

I love you, came an emotional reply rather than a verbal one. The unconditional and automatic love a mother has for all her children, good or bad. But not all Her children were able to hear Her at the moment and most were still unable to understand what was happening, mentally deafened to Her calming thoughts by their fear.

Simplified, the universe experienced a blackout.

All matter is energy, and all energy oscillates, meaning it swings back and forth between two invisible poles. Back and forth, back and forth, a billion times a second. And every time all the energy in the universe reaches one of the poles, it disappears – displaying no light, heat, or any physical properties at all. In layman’s terms, the switchlight of the physical universe gets turned on and off a billion times a second, much like a strobe light. But a strobe light blinking so incredibly fast the light is perceptively seamless and unbroken. 

I laughed in my mind. So did Haruka. We both had fathers who would let us and our siblings know we were being too noisy by turning the lights of whatever room we were in rapidly on and off. I envisioned the Creator yelling “Hey you damn kids, knock it off!” But the Creator wasn’t the one responsible for this power outage – it was humanity.

Already there was a whole gamut of forces affecting linear physical time, but the most powerful of all of them is consciousness. Our Solar System was in a cycle period where time was speeding up, yet we were adding rocket fuel to that turbo charged cosmic pocketwatch with all our artificial human time constructs and demands upon them. If Greenwich Mean Time wasn’t bad enough, all of humanity was experiencing a reality where they were constantly focused on the past or the future, rarely the present. I thought of my bedside alarm clock, set fifteen minutes into the future. Time was like a ball on a string attached to a pole and winding around it. The more it wound, the closer the ball would be to the pole and the faster it would appear to move. Eventually the ball would reach the pole and stop momentarily before it started to lazily unwind. This certainly did explain all the paranormal weirdness humanity had been experiencing lately – the various dimensions could be considered the string, becoming compressed together and allowing a bit of dimensional bleed through. It also answered my question as to why we couldn’t move. We were still alive, just the energy that made our bodies hadn’t oscillated yet – the ball still needed to lazily unwind. We just knocked it around so hard it was temporarily stuck.

For an extremely rare moment in the history of creation, energy decided to take just a little bit longer than a billionth of a second to reappear and swing back to the opposite imaginary pole. 

And since for that fleeting moment the universe didn’t exist, it also meant that time didn’t exist. No wonder I was having trouble grasping if I had been in this state for five minutes or five hours. I wondered if I would even remember this experience, or would it be like a dream – difficult to recall yet right there at the tip of my consciousness. Perhaps I would attempt to remember by writing a fictional short story.

Remember to include me, Haruka thought.

Absolutely, I replied. Although in my story I think I’ll make our souls radiate brighter whenever we talk. It’s sort of bugging me that’s not happening since every episode of Star Trek I’ve seen which had intelligent energy beings always had them glow brighter when…..

And then it hit us again. Not a thunderclap this time, but the sound of a planetary sized freight train – first heard a faint million miles away and then crashing right next to us in a millisecond.

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I gasped for air, and was rewarded with it filling my lungs. I felt wet, as well as another human being in my arms breathing heavily too. The lights had come on in the universe. We were back.

Neither of us could immediately recall what had occurred. Since matter didn’t momentarily exist, that particular memory was stored in our spiritual consciousness, not our physical one.  We both just sat there staring, with a stillness and silence around us enough to allow me to hear each and every drop of water from Haruka’s hair hit the water in the tub. The tremors had ceased. I attempted to break the unnerving silence.

“Um…     holy shit!” I reflexively shouted as the power came back on, and myself not aware it had gone out in the first place. Haruka let out an equivalent remark and splash as the restart also included the hot tub’s heat and jets. Our reactions repeated with each additional noise to follow – dogs barking, car alarms blaring, and finally the portable CD player clicking back on into radio mode.

“…..reports are coming in to our sister-station’s newsroom that we possibly experienced a massive solar flare or something called a coronal mass ejection. I don’t know folks, whatever just happened was pretty freaky but at least it looks like it’s over. I’m just glad were back on the air, so let’s get back to some real rockin’ and rollin’, a little Led Zep for ya….” 

The surreal demanded humor. “How are you enjoying your vacation so far?” I asked with a croaked voice.

“I expected more excitement,” she replied sardonically. Her accent was absent.

“Your English sounds better all of a sudden,” I stated.

“No, you’re speaking fluent Japanese… wait, when did you learn Japanese?”

“No I’m not, you’re speaking Engl… holy cow, I am speaking Japanese! Oh man, this is awesome!” I began to talk in a deep guttural voice as if I was a Sumo wrestler then switched to a rapid high pitch, becoming an imaginary witness to a Godzilla sighting.

“I’m serious, tiki, how in the world can you…. hey, I am speaking fluent English!”

“See? And it was one of your worst subjects too!”

“Not as much as your French. Wait a minute, why do we know these things?”

“I can’t think about that right now because I just noticed I’m freezing!”

“Oh my god!” Haruka blurted as she shuddered in the water. “It’s ice cold!”

I quickly stood up and grabbed a nearby towel, putting it around me. “Holy shit, the towel’s freezing too!”

“So’s my robe!” Haruka squealed as she exited the tub as well. When our bare feet hit cold ground we instantly turned into hairless and shriveled kangaroos, comically hopping around to warm up in the frigid air.

“Did the thermostat of the world just get turned off for a second? Everything’s ridiculously freezing!” I stated through chattering teeth. “We need to get inside!”

Both of us grabbed up our belongings and made a quick dash for the gate. As soon as we were through and reached the front sidewalk entrance to my apartment stairs, we were confronted by Pomeranian yapping, and my neighbor Mrs. McCaffery out walking her dog. We both halted, half-naked and dripping water on the sidewalk. Her mini-wookie continued it’s fervent barking.

“Hi, Mrs. McCaffery… um, sorry… uh, freezing…. the apocalypse…. hot tub…. it’s freezing!” I gasped as we carefully walked by then quickly flew up the steps to my door and went inside. Mrs. McCaffery continued to blankly stare at us with the look of disapproval only a grandmother could give. Sheesh, doesn’t anything faze that woman? I thought, closing the door behind me. 

I ran over to my wall heater and turned it on. “C’mon heat, c’mon!” I ordered as the warmed air started flowing. Haruka quickly joined me as we both removed our towel and robes and shivered in front of the heater, waiting to at least dry off. It also finally gave us a moment to pause and reflect on what had just occurred.

I silently stared at her naked delicate body, wondering how I suddenly knew she loves kimchi, her favorite toy as a child was a stuffed-animal octopus, and during senior year of high school she used to sneak behind the gymnasium with Tetsurou and….

I pulled her close. “Let’s warm up a more proper way,” I stated, looking at her eyes and then shifting my gaze to my bedroom door. She returned my look with one which implied I was tardy in my offer.

“You’re speaking English again, but no translation necessary,” she remarked with a smile. “You know, for the apocalypse, it wasn’t that bad. Bizarre, but not that bad.”

“I just wish I could remember it,” I responded.

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Owari.

Um, I mean…

The End.

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And a beautiful bit of wisdom from one of the greatest spiritual teachers of our time (click for YouTube video link):

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The Real You – Alan Watts

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Epilogue:

Beeeeep!

“tiki, pick up! It’s Garth… pick up the phone! I know you can hear me ’cause you still use that 90′s answering machine with the tape of your girlfriend leaving a racy message… pick up, man! Dude, you’re my last hope…. OK, you know that weird thing that happened after the quakes? It made me swerve into a gully along the interstate in the middle of nowhere and my rig fell on it’s side. The truck’s radio is busted, my cell got smashed, and my motorcycle’s front fork is too twisted to ride. I’m stuck, man. What the hell is going on? Nobody seems to be on the highway either to get a ride from and I’m freakin’ out. I managed to find a rest stop with a pay phone, but there’s not much here… just stink beetles and copies of Watchtower. I can’t reach my friends and I need you to come pick me up, man. Dude, pick up the phone! Please! I’ll totally make….”

“Beep. Please deposit 25 cents for the next three minutes.”

“Shit… hang on, I know I have some more change…”

“Beep. Please deposit 25 cents for the next three minutes.”

“Goddammit, tiki, pick up the damn phone! Where’s that stupid quarter?”

“Beep. Please deposit 25 cents for the next three minutes.”

“I know, I know… don’t disconnect! Shoot! I have a quarter… hol-”

Click! Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

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TALES FROM THE VOLCANO: The One Second Apocalypse [PART 1]

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To all…

the best year ever.

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living tiki personal note: Much apologies for holiday delay. My vehicle died beyond affordable repair and it’s taking me an hour and a half bus time getting anywhere [So, apologies as well for breaking this post into two parts.] One last bit of crap from 2012. Actually the very last thing was a tie between my home phone dying too and my kitchen sink pipe breaking off with rust when I was attempting to fix a clog. Vaya con Dios, 2012.

age of volcanoes post note: Did you know creative writing is hard? Yep, sorta found that out. But this fictional tale is yet another attempt by yours’ truly to conceptualize, comprehend and overstand this reality happening around me. Hopefully you can take something from it as well. This story originally starred the character named Garth, but I felt I could do a better job of describing “the one second apocalypse” by making myself the protagonist. Consider yourselves lucky – I originally was a supporting character with three women in a hot tub. It could happen.

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The One Second Apocalypse

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The knock at my door startled me.

Hearing Garth’s combat boots clamor up the steps to my apartment, it was predictably the next action he would take, yet I just didn’t expect it to be so loud and abrupt.

“I’m in the back yard!” I called out. “Keep the gate shut!”

Garth was my downstairs neighbor and a truck driver whom I’d only see sporadically. He was the type of guy who had his wallet on a chain, a belt buckle displaying his philosophy, and a new girlfriend watching his place every time he was out on a run who would hit on me by bending over and asking if I thought her jeans were too tight. The last one was Heather. She stole my barbeque grill.

Garth was able to hear me from my balcony, but not see, so loud thumping against wood told me he was again on his way. The gate unlatched and within seconds he rounded the corner of our duplex only to stop in his tracks.

“Whoa, dude… what the hell? You got a hot tub and…. you’re naked?,” he said as if I’d gone mad.

“Hey, I’m not alone,” I replied defensively and motioned to the woman in the tub beside me. “Haruka meet Garth. Garth meet Haruka.”

“Konichiwa,” Haruka greeted with a smile and slight bow of her head. She reflexively covered herself, pulling close a floating wooden bucket we were using for our drinks.

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“I met Haruka almost a week ago at that new Japanese restaurant which opened up on 5th. She was four months into some internship with a Japanese company out here, but because of Fukushima related problems she’s now unemployed and has to return home soon. I’m just trying to make her last week in America memorable. Tub rental set me back a bit, but it’s an excellent way to start the new year and is most definitely worth it,” I emphasized by clandestinely pointing to Haruka behind her back. “Sake?”

“OK… but why are you naked? It’s freakin’ cold out today!” Garth replied as he slowly backed away – I assumed more due to me than out of manners for Haruka.

“Duh… it’s the way we hot tub here in America,” I stated matter of fact.

“What are you talking about? I don’t think anyon-”

“Ahem! Don’t you know? Like Japan, it’s our custom too,” I interjected while resuming my pointing to Haruka. I turned and spoke to her for reaffirmation. “It’s our custom too.”

“No it’s not,” She stated, smiling.

“Uh…. um….” I was horrible at recovery. “You mean to tell me that everyone I’ve ever hot tubbed with has lied to me? This is an outrage! An embarrassing and hopefully forgettable outrage!”

“Ha, ha… busted!” Garth laughed.

Haruka giggled while covering her mouth with a delicate hand. “It’s OK, I know you try to fool me – I thought it cute. I not bring bathing clothes anyway. Japan Onsen public baths are no clothes, yes, but men and women are separate.  Americans are too obsessed with nudity, but I appreciate your effort. Not many men bold being naked in chilly weather.”

“Oh man, tiki, I think you just got busted and burned! I like this girl.”

I was becoming annoyed. “Garth, why are you ruining my afternoon?”

“Are you serious, dude? Have you not been feeling the earthquakes all morning?” he worriedly retorted.

“Sure… it’s just an earthquake swarm…. hardly enough to slosh water out of the tub.” As if on cue, the ground began to shake enough to rattle the nearby windows. After a few seconds it was over, and yet another contest began between the neighborhood dogs and car alarms as to who could bark the loudest.

“See? See?” Garth stated excitedly. “This is just the beginning. The Mayans were off by a couple of weeks…. the apocalypse is going down now!”

“Wait, what? The apocalypse? Are you kidding? We live next to grand central fault line, man. This is atypical, yes, but normal. And better a bunch of little ones than one great big one. I wouldn’t call it the apocalypse, though.”

“Dude, it’s not just happening here, it’s everywhere!”

“What do you mean, everywhere?”

“Haven’t you been listening to the news either? Everybody is having these earthquake swarms: Us, Japan, Europe, India… it’s the whole fucking planet!” he exclaimed with arms outspread.

The ground shook again, but stronger, changing Haruka’s demeanor to concern. I needed to diffuse the situation quickly or else my possible expectations for the evening would change from soft and warm Japanese hospitality to a panicked flight for survival. Mother nature wasn’t helping either. “Garth, we’ve both been sort of isolated for an hour” – I motioned towards a CD playing at a soothing volume – “but trust me, this is not the end of the world. OK, maybe there’s something geologically weird and unknown happening, but again, it’s not the end of the world. It sounds like the media’s trying to…” The ground trembled again. “Oh, come on!”

“That’s it, I’m outta here!” Garth declared. “Just got done loading what I need with my motorcycle and I’m heading out to this survival place a friend of mine has in the desert. Checking to see if you wanna come.”  

“What, in your rig?”

“Yeah. Or follow.”

“This is crazy, man. I don’t think I’m in any position to make a split second decision like this.”

“That’s why we’ve got to go now, before everybody else realizes what’s really happening and all the outbound freeways get clogged.”

I turned to Haruka. “I don’t know what is going on, but you’re at a loss being in a foreign country. Anything you need or want to do, I’ll do my best to help you out.”

“What about you? What you want to do?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I thought all these 2012 apocalypse predictions were nonsense, and figured I would handle any local catastrophe as it came.  If the world’s going to end, there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing right now. Really.” I touched the length of her arm. “Plus I really want to get the most out of this rental.”

Haruka was silent for a moment. “I… can’t think what to do. This is too sudden, no time for plan. No use for panic. I can only stay here and enjoy time, so I will do that. If earthquake gets worse, then I recommend we dry ourselves off and find safety.”

“I like this girl,” I stated. “I guess we’re staying.”

Garth felt his preparedness was being slighted. “Suit yourselves,” he replied. “You’ve got my cell, so I guess you can always call…. that is, if you’re still able to. Good luck.” He turned and went back out the side gate. Moments later his truck’s motor fired up and then faded away into the distance.

I and Haruka looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. A sudden blaring cartoon melody made us both jolt. “Sorry… my cell,” she said smiling while reaching for it on the small table just outside the tub. She looked at the screen. “It’s my parents.”

I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but I could at least understand the tone of Haruka’s voice given the situation. Her parents were checking to see if she was alright, and she was reassuring them as best as possible. It must have been near midnight in Japan, so obviously Garth was correct when he said this weirdness was happening everywhere. Haruka added confirmation after finishing the call: “They are having many small quakes in Hokkaido too. It woke them up. Their cat Yoshi is behaving crazy.”

“Are you OK? What do you want to do?” I inquired.

“Let’s finish sake and then we go inside and worry,” she answered.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

Forty minutes went by in four. One would think that hot tub plus alcohol plus nudity plus the end of the world equals I should have sprung for the damage insurance on the tub, but it doesn’t.

It equals shared contemplation.

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Another quake began. I instantly noticed that the dogs in my neighborhood had turned silent. As I focused on discerning any barking at all, the tremor became stronger and continued longer than previously. Haruka was astute to the change as well, looking ready to conclude this part of our afternoon. Her expression became somber when the quake still hadn’t ended after a minute, and instead was increasing in magnitude.

“OK, this… has me concerned,” I remarked. This quake was notably different from the others. The sensation wasn’t a rocking motion as before but rather a rapid vibration, like driving on a freeway completely paved with marbles. The water in the tub reacted with the appearance of being disrupted by a rainstorm instead of the typical sloshing back and forth.

“Yep, I think it’s time to at least get dry and put some clothes on,” I said, making an attempt to get out. Another increase in the vibration of the quake caused me to lose my footing and I splashed down back into the tub. “Jesus! It’s getting worse!” Haruka looked at me and moved quickly to embrace me in a bear-hug. She was terrified. I couldn’t remove her from me even if I wanted to. Feeling responsible for her predicament I blurted out an apology. The worsening vibration made it comical.

“II’mm sssorryyyy, II tthinkkk II ssseerrriiiousssslllyyy uuunddderressstttimmmattteddd tthhee apppocccalypppsssse,” I chattered. She whispered something Japanese in my ear, kissed me, and then it hit us – the loudest thunderclap I had ever heard or felt. It was as if the Creator had fashioned a pair of giant hands and clapped them right next to our planet.

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I must have been knocked unconscious – I awoke to blackness. Not total, as I started to discern bright white lights all around me. Some close, others very far away, so there was depth to my darkened perspective which gave the impression of floating in space surrounded by stars. What happened? I wondered as I gazed around. Had I been blinded? 

Remembering I was in a tub of water, I attempted to detect any sensation of feeling but couldn’t. Neither wet nor dry, hot nor cold. My hot tub had been turned into a sensory deprivation tank. Had I been paralyzed as well? Where’s Haruka? What the hell is going on?

At that moment I began to hear a multitude of people screaming. Not all at once, yet the cries quickly rose to a deafening cacophony. I reached to cover my ears with my hands, and to my horror realized I no longer possessed either – or any body to speak of. Was I dead?

Billions were screaming in fear. Another second and I would be joining them….

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To be concluded….

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the living tiki vs 2012 (ROUND 4): Con-etiquette Requires A Thank You

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This family’s sibling/daughter was violently gunned down in Connecticut recently:

They sure look all broken up about it, don’t they?

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Update at bottom of post.

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Folks, the school shooting in CONnecticut was a fake, staged event. Take a look at the photo above. The family of victim Vicki Soto is wearing green ribbons (and was passing out more to gatherers) in remembrance of her, since green was her favorite color.

What?

What family would think of doing something like this less than a day after her unexpected and violent death?

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My own sister is a teacher of special needs children at an elementary school. She would not hesitate to protect her students with her life. I can tell you right now, if she had died in the same way I certainly wouldn’t look bored like Vicki’s brother above, and I certainly wouldn’t think of some quick gimmick to make others remember her.

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It also looks like one of Vicki’s sisters above didn’t take long to “inherit” Vicki’s scarf: 

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The perfect adorable photo to make you angry.

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Again… the school shooting in Connecticut was a fake, staged event.

The biggest clue for me (and should have been for you) was that over twenty young children were coldly gunned down.

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I have another sister who’s four year old son had wandered off on his own at the zoo for five minutes during a family visit [ I and her husband were actually the ones in charge of watching him at the time, and well... epic fail ].  In just five minutes my sister turned into an emotional train-wreck who would not stop or sleep until reunited with her son.

The only photo of someone at the recent shooting even coming close to displaying that is Vicki’s sister:

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Where are the photos of mothers so filled with anguish they can’t even stand up? Where are the photos of injured children, shirts stained with blood? Where are the most emotionally-impacting photos the media can capture – numerous small draped bodies being wheeled out on stretchers?

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The most memorable photo from the 1995 Oklahoma city bombing was exactly along those lines:

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One year old Baylee Almon dying in the arms of firefighter Chris Field. [But then again, I'm now having doubts about this photo as well... if I was a firefighter, I certainly wouldn't slow down to pose for a photo on my way to paramedics.]

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That’s because there are no photos like that. Nobody died. Nobody was injured. This was a fake, staged event.

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Instead, we get artificially crafted Kodak moments, the same you see after every shooting type event nowadays:

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The emotionally overwhelmed firefighters photo:

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The authority figure and child bonding photo:

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The childless couple… is their child dead? photo:

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The reunited father and daughter photo:

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The reunited family photo:

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The let’s not forget to thank God reunited family photo:

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The children being led to safety (or maybe the other side of the parking lot) photo:

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The children reacting to the shooting (or maybe wondering why their parents left them alone with a news photographer) photo:

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The desperate, confused grandmother turning to the authority figure photo:

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The odd assortment of sad people milling about photo:

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The police ready to kick some mentally-ill shooter ass photo:

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The even though we’re black and white, we’re both human photo:

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The multi-racial remembrance photo:

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And the don’t forget to thank God remembrance photo:

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“Remember” is what they instantly want you to do:

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President Obama even almost cried:

Almost.

He really, really tried.

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Don’t be sad. The evil ones who crafted this fake event will provide details worthy of remembering:

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Did you know she was also protectively holding the classroom’s mascot labrador puppy at the time?

Did you also know she was super-adorable in every way?

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I heard that this young girl was killed just because the gunman thought she was “too cute to live”:

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The gunman’s ultimate intent? To ruin Christmas for everybody forever.

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Well you failed, mister crazy gunman!

Timmy, there will be Christmas in Whoville… I promise you that!

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The image of teacher Kaitlin Roig above was created by Ed Chiarini, who has already identified people in this event as actors, her being one of them. The boy she’s with in the bottom photo played the fictional role of the brother of Christina Taylor-Green in the Gabrielle Giffords fake shooting:

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Ed also found an actor that I identified playing fake roles in my previous post The Seductive Atlantean (D): A Malfunction in Westworld:

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From the east coast:

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And from the west coast:

Child killer David Westerfield:

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And radio show host Rick Roberts:

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Were you aware that Sandy Hook, Connecticut is also the home of Hunger Games author Suzanne Collins?

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If you were, that’s to detour your consciousness into trying to figure out what the connection means (including Katniss’ resemblance to Vicki). Some people are already lost down that path:

Was There More Than One Shooter At Sandy Hook?

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If you want to ponder something, ponder why an attractive, smart, loving young woman doesn’t have a boyfriend mourning her loss as well.

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That’s because she’s a fake persona part of a fake event designed in every way to manipulate your emotions, your pocketbook, your ideology, and your vote.

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What’s the “thank you” this con requires?

It’s a thank you from me to all the people on my blogroll, and to all my commentators. Without their insights, without their second looks at everything we’re being force-fed, right now I probably would be trying to figure out some BS such as what mind-control program the gunman was under, and who his slave handler’s are.

Instead, when I initially heard the news I just simply thought: more fake BS.

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I concur!

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POST UPDATE: Just so people don’t think I’m some sort of insensitive cad. I mean, I can be – sometimes I am – especially towards people conning me, but I’m not the kind of guy that would laugh if you fell face first into a puddle. OK, maybe I would.

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Dear readers, we now have official confirmation of BS – A Batman connection:

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That’s a screen shot from the latest film (Just released on DVD… how convenient!)

But wait… what’s that? There’s some words on the map near the walkie-talkies.  Hmmm… I wonder what they say?

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If you can’t read it, it says “bullshit”.

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This is not coincidence. And considering the fact that I’m able to have a timely view of something it would normally take a conspiracy synchro-nerd weeks of video scouring to discover tells me the source of this discovery is also the creator.

In other words, the people who put that in the movie (knowing the Sandy Hook event would happen), now want you to think the event was some Illuminati-Hollywood-CIA-MK Ultra-occult Satanic child sacrifice-something-something (Go out and buy a copy of the movie for better clarity! There might even be more undiscovered clues!) I would also surmise that the article link I provided [Was there another shooter?] was part of all this too – deliberately created with fake comments to draw you further into their mind-snare.

In other words, they want you to waste your time (and money).

The fingerprints of the Greenbergs are all over this event.

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For the rest of us, they are providing us with a sanitized, dramatized, artificial reality. I say sanitized because if you were shown a real event where loved adults and children were abruptly and coldly gunned down in front of other children, those other children would look something like this:

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Children of Iraqi parents shot dead by U.S. soldiers in their car because they didn’t stop at a checkpoint when ordered to. Note face mask on soldier.

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This traumatic event that supposedly happened to the kids in CT wasn’t an earthquake, or fire, or even a gun battle between police and criminals with them in the crossfire. Teachers were shot dead right in front of them.

Children would either be so freaked out, only their parents could calm them down or they would be frozen silent with terror, like that poor boy against the wall.

Does this next photo (or any for that matter) look like the children in CT just went through such an experience?

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C’mon dad, where are you? I could totally be watching Dragon Ball Z right now.

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And another update….

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I personally wanted to investigate and know as early as possible whether this was a real or fake event because it provides an untarnished (by emotion) perspective on the follow-up events. Here’s what I’ve learned: 

1) Whomever faked this event has influence/control over the authorities of the state of Connecticut (and anyone else who would have the power to declare this an act of domestic terrorism…. so basically, the United States government.)

2) Whomever faked this event has influence/control over the media enough to where you not only will never know the truth, but the lie will be reinforced and promulgated – such as my local newspaper running an article about one of the Sandy Hook child victims being a former resident here. The ambiguity of her connections to my hometown would be laughable if I didn’t already know the entire article was bullshit being forced upon my mind.

3) Jews are all over this event. If you’ve read my blog or the Celtic Rebel’s, you would know the significance of that.

Paul Simon just happened to be a family friend of the Soto’s, and played “The Sound Of Silence” at her funeral. It’s getting pretty thick, folks.

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4) Celebrities are all over this event.

Yeah… they actually produced this video right after the shooting:

Demand a plan to end gun violence 

I would say it’s a good assumption that not only every celebrity you see is compromised, but also everybody else they’ve associated with in every movie or production they’ve been in. In other words, the entire entertainment industry. Working you like a chump.

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5) Whomever faked this event hired some incredibly bad actors. Insultingly bad actors.

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This YouTube clip will show you acting that will piss you off:

The Sandy Hook HOAX!

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This girl just lost her sister? Right.

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Apparently, all the actors chosen for this event were born without tear ducts.

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Here’s another photo of the Iraqi girl for reference/comparison:

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6) Whomever faked this event didn’t forget that there are lots of conspiracy nerds out there.

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Look…. the sign of Baphomet! Vicki was chosen for sacrifice!

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Actually, I’m sure I’ve seen that guy before in one of Ed’s videos. I also found it extremely weird (or maybe not) that Hunger Games author Suzanne Collins….

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….looks incredibly similar to someone I recently profiled, Annette O’Toole:

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7) Do not ask why.

With every law-changing conspiratorial event nowadays, the worst question to ask is why. Because then with any given answer to why, it will cause you to personally decide if you care or not.

The most obvious response to “why” is gun control. I just heard some Jewish politicians talk to a Jewish radio show host about formulating a plan to ban some guns. Sounds like getting rid of guns is what they’re up to, doesn’t it?

There have been record gun sales in the U.S. since the shooting.

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If you absolutely need an answer to “why”, I would say that they are attacking the minds of children. All children.

Otherwise, just keep knowing they are working you like a chump – Expose the hell out of them and do not tolerate their bullshit anymore. Maybe even be a little insensitive….

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Hey…. is it me, or does anyone else suspect that “Vicki” was chosen not only because she’s adorable, but also has a potentially huge rack?

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You might not think it, but you’re attention is being subtly directed to them.

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(OK, maybe it’s just me.)

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Welcome to People magazine reality. Tales of individual heroism and sacrifice at Sandy Hook page 6. On page 15, an update on Gabrielle Giffords… Gabby’s adopted the Sandy Hook labrador puppy!

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ONGOWA!

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Red Light, Yellow Light, Green Light, Go! (A Seductive Atlantean Addendumdum)

Step inside, walk this way

You and me babe… hey! hey!

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Red light, yellow light, green light, go

Crazy little woman in a one man show

Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love

Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up

Loosen up

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You gotta squeeze a little, tease a little, please a little more

Easy operator come a knockin’ on my door

Some time, anytime, sugar me sweet

Little miss innocent…

skaaawuurrreeeeeeeeeeennnt!!

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Hellooo dum-dums!

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Sorry to disrupt your moment of primitive auditory stimulation, but those dum-dums who call themselves Def Leppard should be vaporized immediately if you wish to progress as a species.  

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Allow me to introduce myself…. I am the Great Gazoo from planet Zetox, an obscure fictional character from the 1960s cartoon, The Flintstones. Since the dum-dum known as the living tiki is a bit overwhelmed living at the moment, I will be filling in until he returns.

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Yet in a sense I am very real, dum-dums. I am the cosmic trickster, the universal prankster. I took celluloid form in your children’s programming because I was required to.

You see, dum-dums, I’m obligated to call you that to point out your own stupidity. Otherwise you wouldn’t be dum-dums now, would you? But you may even be too dumb to grasp that, so I probably have my work cut out for me.

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This is your brain compared to mine.

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The Flintstones was funny because the entire show was one big joke. On you…

the modern stone-age family.

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I’ll skip to the punchline:

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Want to be in on the joke? It’s that millisecond you spent thinking “Gee… those two prints hardened into stone together sure seems weird” before imagining being covered with sugar again.

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Do you take sugar? One lump or two?

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Take your body, shake it up

Break the bubble, break it up

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Pour some sugar on me

In the name of….

Bzzzrappt!

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Spectral atomizer. Everybody should have one… hehe.

What’s that you say, dum-dums? Nobody plays records anymore because your species is beyond such primitive technology, and beyond such primitive thinking?

Those prints must be an abnormality, a hoax, or something….. Dinosaurs and dum-dums are separated by 65 million years. Every dum-dum knows that!

Okey dokey.

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Heads up… I’m gonna be throwing some stones:

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[One of the many Ica stones discovered in Peru which depict dinosaurs as well as advanced surgery and engineering.]

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Sure, it’s easy to dismiss these stones as frauds. It’s even easier if you were the dum-dum promoting them as real until the Peruvian government informed you that it is illegal to sell Peruvian historical artifacts.

That would be after you’ve already sold a few.

Hoax or jail?

Hoax!

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[There are between 11,000 and 15,000 stones. Their age is indeterminate.]

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Nonetheless, there are at least 11,000 of them. Something to ponder.

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[Their origin and creators are also indeterminate.]

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That fellow riding a triceratops sure is making reality difficult. Especially since he’s toking out – like riding a triceratops is that comfortable. Ha… as if!

Damn those primitive dum-dums and their wanting to permanently record things they see!

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Reality isn’t difficult. It never is. What’s difficult is your brain attempting to grasp that you’ve been lied to. Not some little white one, mind you. A lie that puts entire dum-dum history into question. Why, there might have even been a time when you weren’t dum-dums!

I’m guessing that time was before you had dum-dums called academics.

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Up until 1841 when British anatomist dum-dum Richard Owen coined the word “dinosaur”, your world only knew of creatures commonly called dragons.

Here’s another historical conundrum from Angkor Wat in Cambodia: 

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[This temple is only 800 years old.]

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All that’s really needed to change your reality, dum-dums, is ink and paper:

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[50 years after the word "dinosaur" was invented, it still had yet to find it's way into Webster's dictionary. Dragon was there, however.]

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What happened to all the dragons?

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Christian dum-dums might have you believe it’s because the dinosaurs masturbated too much, but because I like you dum-dums I’m going to give you the real truth:

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YOU ATE THEM ALL!

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_________________________________

Fifty million years ago you walked upon the planet so

Lord of all that you could see, just a little bit like me

Walking in your footsteps

Walking in your footsteps

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Hey mister dinosaur, you really couldn’t ask for more

You were God’s favorite creature but you didn’t have a future

Walking in your footsteps

Walking in your footsteps

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Hey mighty brontosaurus, don’t you have a lesson for us?

Thought your rule would always last, there were no lessons in your past

You were built three stories high, they say you would not hurt a fly

If we explode the atom bomb would they say that we were dumb?

Walking in your footsteps

Walking in your footsteps

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They say the meek shall inherit the Earth

They say the meek shall inherit the Earth

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“Walking In Your Footsteps”

The Police

_________________________________

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Who are “they” that say the meek shall inherit the Earth? Probably the same ones who want you to equate meek with weak, and not humble. Dum-dum Sting can’t even get the official story correct: 50 million years ago was the supposed emergence of mammals during the Eocene Period.

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Have you ever pondered the possibility that the dinosaurs existed up until the cataclysm prior to your current civilization (commonly referred to as the Biblical flood), and there may actually be some dinosaur species which survived and still exist today? 

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[Real or hoax? An example of a "river dino" or "mini-T-rex" reportedly seen by numerous people along the Colorado River as recently as 2003, particularly near Cortez, Colorado.]

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But then again you would first have to consider the possibility of dinosaurs and dum-dums once existing together. And I’m sure you’ve been lied to so much, there are actually paleontologist dum-dums who haven’t even considered that. 

Artist dum-dums tend to have more imagination:

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_________________________________

But are you getting it?

Yes, Armageddon it!

‘A really getting it?

Yes, Armaged…

Bzzzrappt!

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Alright, alright, I confess… it was I that was actually playing the Def Leppard album earlier. They make for great skeet shooting, tee hee.

Pull!

Yet you dum-dums keep transmitting their songs through your atmosphere and off into space, where they will continue on until intercepted by an intelligent alien race who will subsequently listen to them and determine your planet needs to be destroyed as quickly as possible.

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[There is nothing gay about this photo. Keep calm and carry on.]

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Alas, I’m getting off-topic. But not really. It’s easy to see how different the world is without dragons, yet you probably didn’t notice a quite different and drastic change over the past hundreds of years: colors.

Consider how much your eyes these days are bombarded with primary, secondary, and tertiary colors in their purest form….

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A dum-dum living 1000 years ago didn’t live in a very colorful world. Kind of drab browns and greens, really. Unless you were rich, the only time you saw something really colorful was a sporadic product of nature… a sunset, flower, or animal. But now…

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Green means go.

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age of volcanoes fun fact: The visible light spectrum goes red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet. The predominant color of each planet in our solar system starting with Mars is red, orange, yellow, green, blue, (and if Pluto had an atmosphere, it would probably be) violet.

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Dum-dum tiki asked me to fill in because green is my skin color. You may have also noticed a lot of other green men in the manufactured pop-culture of your reality. Not only those little green men from Mars (Shouldn’t they be little red men?), but ones such as Yoda, Gumby, The Green Giant… 

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As well as a green man that recently appeared in a summer blockbuster:

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Oops! That’s the 80′s Hulk. And yes, that was an actual hairstyle in the 80′s [see Def Leppard above].

Consider yourselves lucky with Avengers Hulk. The biggest challenge for 80′s Hulk was a cage:

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[Will he escape before his body paint wears off? Tune in next week!]

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But why didn’t Marvel comics create the Hulk with red skin? Wouldn’t that make more sense with him being angry and all?

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[Actually, later they did:]

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The answer to that is the common trait of all the green men previously mentioned: They are all representations of forces of will or creation.

I myself have the wonderful ability to manifest anything out of thin air. Sorry dum-dums… I can’t manifest intelligence for you!

The Hulk’s anger doesn’t stem from hate, but is a result of the will to smash the crap out of whatever is bugging him at the moment.

He’s a lover, not a fighter:

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Gadzooks, that drawing just doesn’t stop!

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The green man which explains this will/creation concept the best is a DC (Detective Comics) golden age (one of the first created) superhero called Green Lantern:

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Hold on now, what’s this? That’s not Green Lantern.

I mean Arisia is a Green Lantern… just not Hal Jordan, the Green Lantern.

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Apologies, dum-dums… the offices here at the age of volcanoes are a complete mess and every attempt to access a relevant photo from dum-dum tiki’s files typically results in pictures of dum-dums with breasts.

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See what I mean? Hey… this gives me an idea. I feel like suspending the green talk and instead psychoanalyzing dum-dum tiki. Just look at what he has in a file labeled “sanity”:

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[the age of volcanoes is experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.]

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OK, Gazoo, I’m back! I’m back! Thanks… I can take over. You can stop now. Please.

That’s the Great Gazoo, dum-dum.

Great Gazoo.

Are you sure? I was just starting to have some fun.

Absolutely.

Oh well, it is your blog. Good luck trying to fill the intellectual void left by my departure.

Um… thanks?

Toodle-loo, dum-dums!

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Don’t worry. He grows on you.

But kinda like a fungus.

So maybe you should worry.

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Green means go.

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Taylor Swift did a duet with Def Leppard singing Pour Some Sugar On Me. I don’t recommend it for anyone.

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If you’ve noticed, there’s been a recent upswing in the promotion of red. As per this series, the Atlanteans may have been a “red” race, and are possibly using that color as some sort of code.

Atlanteans – Jews – Communists – Reds

They seem to be also using green: 

The Green party. The Green agenda. The Green Revolution. The Greenbergs. Dallas Green. Christina Taylor-Green.

What’s the glowing color of the Matrix? The glowing color of David Icke’s website? The glowing color on the DVD cover of another green force of will (and nature): Godzilla?

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What’s up with green?

Well, like Gazoo was saying [I mean the Great Gazoo], secrets are being shown and memed by the comics industry:

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Not surprisingly, in comics you also find Jews…. and a Greenberg:

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Denise Wohl

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Actually, that’s Denise playing the role of a fictional teacher from Columbine High School who was fictionally paralyzed from the fictional school shooting. Denise is extremely easy to identify in playing fake roles – her side profile has a very distinguishing feature:

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Her nose back then might have been enhanced or she may have had plastic surgery since, because this one just doesn’t look natural to me:

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Manhattan Society, if I am in violation of your copyright please let me know and I will remove this image. You just simply provided a perfect recent photo, especially since Denise seems to be enjoying the “Chill Out With Chinchilla” dead animal skin social.

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Denise is the mother of Arden Wohl, another liar actor:

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I guess you could list their daytime jobs as “status seekers”.

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This seems to involve promoting mysterious and oddly named charities, such as “The Playground Project” – which fights against child sex slave trafficking (hmmm). This is usually done on a red carpet.

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Some Greenbergs and other women pretending what they do makes a difference.

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Now then, can you believe Denise was once a letterist for Marvel comics? [A letterist is someone who writes out the dialog in the word balloons.]

Denise Wohl? Something funny programming is going on….

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She even worked on this issue of the Avengers:

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And recently created her own comic book:

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Take note of the Qabbalistic tree of life…. and red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet.

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If you’re wondering WTF too, that’s because comics weren’t created to entertain, but instead to program children (and then reinforce when adults). Comics tap into our forgotten collective subconscious with tales not of superheros, but rather of gods and demons, morality and mortality.

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And the force behind creation:

Will.

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The story of Green Lantern is an extremely interesting one. The movie, however….

well, let me put it this way:

When a movie can make a very attractive woman with the last name Lively seem dull….

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…but yet you get to see a nearly naked Ryan Reynolds being electroshocked [i.e., a whole lotta clenching goin' on]….

it sucks.

Just like all Holy Wood programming.

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Nonetheless, the background story is both fascinating and revealing:

Long ago, an immortal race of aliens decided to create an army to defend the universe against evil. They built a giant battery inside a planet which collected and harnessed the most powerful and abundant energy in the universe: the willpower produced by every living creature. This gives off a greenish glow, hence the battery was called the Green Lantern.

The aliens then divided the universe into 3,600 sectors and gave a ring to a being from each sector – An intelligent being without fear who became a member of the Green Lantern corps. 

The ring has the capability of tapping into the stored power of the Green Lantern, thereby enabling the bearer to conjure up any physical form out of this energy in order to fight evil, such as a sword or spaceship (among other powers). These were called “constructs”, and their creation was only limited by the imagination of the ring-bearer.

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The immortal aliens harnessed the energy of will, but there are other emotion energies one can utilize, like fear – the Yellow Lanterns became the enemies of the Green Lanterns, because the fear energy (just as powerful as will) they harnessed and utilized consumed them and turned them to evil. Their fear energy negated the Green Lantern’s will energy more often than not.

Behind each color or the visible light spectrum was an energy, waiting to be used. This was called “the emotional spectrum”.

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And naturally there were beings ready to use each emotion energy for the greater good, or only their own. Symbols and oaths were created for each Lantern energy, which describes what each is about:

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Red light [energy produced by rage]:

With blood and rage of crimson red

Ripped from a corpse so freshly dead

Together with our hellish hate

We’ll burn you all, that is your fate!

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Orange light [energy produced by avarice/greed]:

This power is mine, this is my light

Be it in bright of day, or black of night

I lay claim to all that falls within my sight

To take what I want, that is my right!

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Yellow light [energy produced by fear]:

In blackest day, in brightest night

Beware your fears made into light!

Let those who try to stop what’s right

Burn like his power, Sinestro’s might!

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Green light [energy produced by will]:

In brightest day, in blackest night

No evil shall escape my sight!

Let those who worship evil’s might

Beware my power, Green Lantern’s light!

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Blue light [energy produced by hope]:

Tor lorek san, bor nakka mur

Natromo faan tornek wot ur,

Ter Lantern ker lo Abin Sur

Taan lek lek nok, Formorrow Sur!

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Indigo light [energy produced by compassion]

[oath unavailable]

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Violet light [energy produced by love]:

For hearts long lost and full of fright

For those alone in blackest night

Accept our ring and join our fight

Love conquers all with violet light!

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This evokes how we equate certain human emotions or aspects with certain colors, such as “yellow bellied coward” or even the recent phenomenon, “indigo children”.

In the comic book, each energy’s strength is gauged by the emotion behind it. For example, since there’s not a whole lot of love energy being generated in the universe, the Violet Lanterns aren’t as powerful… unless they combine forces with the Green Lanterns.

Love and will combined… I guess you could say creating passion.

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Actually, I think the way the Violet Lantern corps stops evil is just by showing up.

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Hey Green Lantern, can we stop fighting each other for a second… I mean, did you notice the Violet Lanterns just got here? I can’t even remember what I was fighting you about.

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Doubtful? Try this:

Imagine you’re fighting someone outside a bar, and then…

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“Hey you two… stop that right now!”

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See? It made you um, it… um. Wait… I swear I was going somewhere with this. 

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As a sideline note, the red Hulk you saw earlier was not Bruce Banner, but another character who was filled with such rage towards the Hulk, the similar mutation caused him to instead turn red.

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Now here’s where the story essentially reveals what the evil ones have been doing to suppress all of us:

Negating our will with fear.

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In the comic, the Green Lanterns were almost defeated by the Yellow Lanterns because the yellow energy of fear was not only more abundant than will, it made will energy powerless in it’s presence. 

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The evil ones are rendering our will powerless with fear.

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Explaining our reality can’t get much simpler than that, although I would add we all have very little will to begin with. Since birth, our minds have been implanted with artificial imagination and very little creation.

And what scant will we have left we use to acquire an artificial will they’ve created for us (making it green, of course):

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Hmm… I wanna try something.

Imagine there’s a big pile of money in front of you, and then….

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See? Didn’t it make you um… wait, where was I going with this?

Again? Dammit!

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Each one of us possess the potential will to create the life – the existence – we want.

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You are not hindered by your physical form, only by your imagination and will power. Hey, even a space wasp became a Green Lantern:

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The sad truth is that this fictional comic book intelligent space wasp may actually have more willpower than you at the present time.

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In my opinion, the green meme used by the evil ones is designed to subconsciously and vampirically drain your willpower and give it to them.

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Like that little green light on the bottom of a traffic signal, will is dominated and controlled by the red and yellow lights.

Green means go (but only when they say so.)

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In the film, Hal Jordan is instructed on how to wield the power of the ring. The dialogue almost becomes a field guide to living:

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Your will turns thought into reality.

To master the ring [living], you must learn to focus your will and create what you see in your mind.

The ring’s [living's] limits are only what you can imagine.

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Fear is the enemy of will. Will is what makes you take action. Fear is what stops you and makes you weak. Makes your constructs feeble.

You must learn to ignore your fear. When you can’t act, you can’t defend. When you can’t defend, you die.

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Your constructs are only going to be as strong as your will.

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Now you might be thinking that’s all fine and dandy, but Hal Jordan had a planet-sized battery in which to recharge his ring. What do we got?

Don’t fear, you have one too. She’s called Mother Earth.

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To recharge: First, tune your energy’s frequency to Her’s, and then the amount of direct contact will determine wattage and charge duration.

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You tune your frequency by meditation.

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Any contact with the Earth, from walking barefoot in the grass to swimming in the ocean will recharge you. The more water the better.

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Again… you might be thinking that’s all fine and dandy, but that’s the energy behind the will. Where does one get…. will itself?

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[the age of volcanoes is experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.]

(For reals this time)

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age of volcanoes blog note: If you read my last post, for some strange computer reason I couldn’t edit or write posts for awhile. But now – right in the middle of finishing this one – I suddenly became unable to add an image without it being inserted at the top of the post. In other words, if I try to put an image right here:

X

….it would always appear above the post header image. I tried everything to change that.     ……..And then it corrected itself. Huh?

I don’t know if these blog shenanegans are accidental, intentional, or the handiwork of the cosmic trickster, but I’m getting really tired of this.

So tired, it has ignited my will.

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Even though you might not have what you need at the moment, I find it helps to imagine it into reality. It’s actually an excellent exercise in creativity and willpower.

I can’t tell you how many times a 50 caliber machine gun would’ve come in handy.

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Like Sinestro said, will makes you take action. You take action to change or create your own reality. I guess I’m getting tired of having to tolerate this artificially created reality. It drains my will by making me work too much.

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It’s also a constant stream of news so saturated with BS, it will someday soon cause actual bull shit to stand up and yell out, “Oh, come on!”

Like this latest Greenberg production:

NY cop selflessly buys a homeless man some shoes. Right.

He’s in front of a fucking shoe store.

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Everything about this image is bullshit designed to elicit an emotional response from you. From the perfect actors to the perfect poses to the perfect lighting to the perfect angle to the perfect product placement right behind the perfect cop. Bullshit.

And it doesn’t stop there. Oh hell no. They can will milk this event even further to manipulate your emotions….

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WTF is he doing with his hands?

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Want to be in on the joke? This all was ultimately done to sell shoes (the ones behind the perfect cop – Skechers). Guess who owns Skechers? The Greenberg family. The man above looks incredibly similar to a Greenberg family member. But you don’t need Ed Chiarini to tell you this story is BS… these days, all you need to do is to just give it a second look.

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Your willpower is being sapped, and in turn you are needing to draw your energy from the other emotions, which is less stable than will energy and makes your constructs feeble.

The evil ones are doing this in a myriad of ways, not the least of which is attacking our bodies to make us physically weak. This single aspect is again done in a myriad of ways, not the least of which is electromagnetic smog:

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Check out antennasearch.com to find out how many cell towers and antennas are within a 3 mile radius of your home. I have 294 towers and 830 antennas. I would also include my electric company’s “smartmeter” (It’s not smart to be close to it for extended periods of time.)

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But at least they make some cell towers look like palm trees. Oooh… pretty.

Pretty frightening.

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And that’s only what you can recognize and sense as wrong.

A weak will makes you powerless. A week will make you powerless, too.

Work-weak, school-weak, a weakly schedule. Even our language has been crafted to sap your will. Everybody’s working for the weak-end.

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The evil ones have crafted a great percentage of our reality. That’s why I let the Great Gazoo have a little fun by making you imagine humans living with dinosaurs, and conceptualize a different real reality other than our present bullshit one.

Long, long ago – long before the BS – the place where you are seated right now looked like this:

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And then this:

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Then this:

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Then this:

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Then this:

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Then this:

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Then this:

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And then this:

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The year is not 2012. It is just simply…. now. And the now is guided by the strongest will.

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Recharge your will by connecting with the Earth.

Focus your will by limiting or eliminating consumption of artificial energy.

Implement your will by creating your desired reality. Or anything, really.

Just create.

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Here, try this:

Imagine a big delicious cake in front of you and….

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Wait…. again?!

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[The consciousness of the living tiki is experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.]

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ONGOWA!

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* a shout-out goes to bloggers Alex Robinson from Too Long In This Place and Eugene from The Underground Stream (just added Eugene to my blogroll – you should take a visit). I wanted to acknowledge their insights: Alex with people being programmed to equate meek with weak, and both of them with their wisdom about water. Eugene also provides a wise perspective on our consumption, especially in his appearances on The Rebel Path.

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age of volcanoes action news flash: An article from a news service called Earth Environment Service:  “A controversial new study suggests that humans are getting dumber because of life in modern society. Writing in the journal Trends in Genetics, Stanford University author Gerald Crabtree argues that life-and-death challenges early humans faced, in which nature selected the most intelligent to survive, just aren’t there in urban environments. He says that with the development of agriculture and emergence of urbanization, natural selection no longer weeded out mutations that spawned intellectual inferiors.”

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TALES FROM THE VOLCANO: Day Of The Alive

I’m taking this back, Mr. Lucas.

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age of volcanoes blog note: Tales From The Volcano is a new series which will appear sporadically. It is original fictional short stories written by me for the main purpose of conceptualizing and understanding this reality happening around me a little bit better. Today’s will be an unusual “ghost” story for The Day of the Dead. Enjoy.

living tiki disclaimer: I know extremely little about Guatemala. I needed a setting for the story, and this seemed perfect. So no hassles, Guatemalan bloggers… OK?

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“Trick or treat!”

“Ahh!” Annie shrieked when she saw what her husband had slyly placed on her laptop, distracting her with a kiss. He had silently come behind her seated at a small table. “Don’t do that!” she chided while playfully swatting his hand. “You know how I am with the bugs here.”

“Exactly. Perfect for Halloween in Guatemala,” Simon replied, smiling.

“Except that today is November 1st, sweetie. Dia de los Muertos.”

“Shoot! Either I’m going senile or experiencing a major case of jet lag.”

Dr. Annie Jensen’s heart ached for her husband. The trip was unexpected, and he had yet to experience the entire spectrum of insectoid inhabitants – particularly the ones that bite. But she couldn’t turn down the opportunity of a lifetime: Newly discovered ruins in Tikal National Park, including a subterranean chamber. The university would fund her trip, along with two graduate students. They had arrived yesterday, and opted to stay in a small village much closer to the new site than Antigua, or even the hotels near the main site.

The lack of the sometimes even basic amenities didn’t bother Annie. Being an expert in Pre-Columbian Mayan archeology, she’d been down to Guatemala five times already. And although the last time would be nearly twenty years ago, her memory was timeless: The same heavy, humid air with that lightly sweet scent; the same flock of kaleidoscope parrots flying overhead; the same howler monkeys welcoming her back. Only Simon would be different this time. 

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Being the owner and operator of a sport fishing business, Simon was truly a fish out of water. This was definitely not Cabo San Lucas or Acapulco, and the only reason he was here was because of her. She knew he was already hating it. It just made things worse when he started massaging her shoulders.      

“Ohhh,” Annie winced, rubbing her hands.

“Arthritis again?”

“Yeah. I could sure go for the treat now.” Pain registered in her voice.

“That was the kiss.”

“So… you’re telling me the marketplace didn’t have any wine?” she said, looking back with a grin.

“Fine. Just for that, I won’t share any of the whiskey they did have,” he replied, holding the bottle up and swinging it like a hypnotist’s watch. Annie’s eyes lit up. Alcohol was alcohol.

“Wine’s a treat. But you’ve got medicine. Please, doctor?” she begged, holding out a cup as if expecting change.

“Doctor, heal thyself,” Simon stated as he poured. He decided not to hold back, even to get in a little more teasing. Arthritis was bad enough, but she was down here with diabetes along with a recent positive diagnosis for lupus. Annie’s not twenty-five anymore, regardless of how much returning here was making her believe she was, he noted. The day’s trip to the site took it’s toll. Even though the grads did most of the work, Annie was notably exhausted. 

“Thank you for being here. I tend to forget the jungle’s no place for a fifty year old woman.”

“Well I guess that means I’m really screwed – it’s certainly no place for a fifty-two year old man who is continuously asking ‘What the hell is that thing?’. And asking it in a language nobody seems to understand.”

Annie chuckled, then winced again. “Oh, today was brutal. Stop trying to make me feel good!”

At that moment one of the villagers approached and spoke to Annie. She turned around in her chair and glanced behind Simon, which caused him to look as well. Both were initially surprised at how silent the other man had been standing there, which faded as they realized he wasn’t a resident, but rather a forest shaman. His appearance in the village was rare, yet not uncommon. He grinned a toothless smile back at them.

“What is it, sweetie? What do they want?” Simon inquired to Annie.

“That man is a shaman, and he just told the villager to ask me if I want to be healed.”

“Healed? Of… what? Are you going to have to eat something weird?”

“I don’t know. Although I’ve seen them before, I’ve never actually spoken with one. At least a real one – not the cigar smoking, booze drinking, westernized ones they have in the bigger towns. This fellow is straight out of the wild,” she relayed with trepidation. After another verbal exchange with the shaman and translation from the villager, Annie turned to Simon. “It’s not pharmacological. He’s saying the forest will heal me. I think it’s some kind of ceremony.”

“The forest?”

“He said the forest told him.”

“I’m out of my element. You gotta make the call on this one,” Simon shrugged.

“It is unusual for a shaman to offer this, especially without a request for payment. It would be insulting to turn down such an offer. The villager says the shaman has done it many times already for others in the village. OK, sure… why not? I think it would be neat.”

The shaman motioned for Annie to follow him to a nearby clearing, with Simon and the villager acting as interpreter following. Other locals started seeing what was occurring, and started to gather close to the field as if spectators preparing to view a football match.

“Hey, what’s going on?” One of the grad students inquired as he caught up with Simon.

“Your professor is about to have a Kodak moment. Apparently that shaman there is going to perform some sort of healing ritual, but all the villagers gathering ’round tells me it’s going to be quite a show.”

As the shaman motioned for the others except the translator to stay back while they moved to the center of the clearing, Annie looked concerned at all the attention. Long, late afternoon beams of light illuminated the area, providing a magical tranquility that calmed her. Or was it fatigue?

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The shaman motioned for Annie to sit on the ground while he did the same opposite her. The villager remained standing close by, and spoke after the shaman. “He asks if you truly want to be healed.”

“Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t?” she stated.

“Many,” replied the villager. 

The shaman then took a stick of incense from his satchel, stuck it upright in the ground and lit it. Annie expected a sweet smell, but it was pungent. He closed his eyes and began a chant. It was brief, and after finishing he stood and turned to walk away with the villager following.

“Wait, where is he going?” Annie asked the villager. 

“He’s not the one doing the healing,” he replied back. 

Instantly Annie took a sharp intake of breath, as if just surfacing from a lake. Slowly exhaling, she looked around puzzled, and then began to smile… and cry. She stood awkwardly, with the legs of a newborn calf. Simon reflexively began to move towards her, but was gently restrained by another villager who said something to him with a smile.   

Now starting to walk around, Annie glanced around in all directions with the eyes of a scientist and a child combined, becoming more assured with each step. Then she began to dance. With arms outstretched, she twirled and leaped from place to place, seemingly oblivious to everyone…. and her own ailments. Laughing with a joyfulness her husband had never heard in all the time he’s known her, the forest responded to her merriment in kind with an orchestra of calls, the howler monkeys directing the din.

For a moment, the dimming sunlight appeared to sparkle until Simon realized it was the approaching flutter of dozens of butterflies, settling around her as choreographed confetti. Annie slowed her movements and gazed at those gathered. Upon seeing Simon she smiled and instantly moved towards him, almost skipping. The butterflies dissipated back into the forest. When she was mere feet away she stopped, gazing at him with both familiarity and strangeness.

“Honey?” he inquired softly. She approached him slowly staring into his eyes until she was close enough to give him a kiss. She fainted, taking Simon by surprise but not enough to where he caught her in time. Holding her, he navigated sitting down while carefully laying her on the ground and putting her head in his lap. He signaled for Neil to get him some water.

“Um…. Can anybody tell me what just happened to my wife?” Simon inquired in an amusing tone. The villager whom had been acting as translator spoke. Simon turned to Neil whom had just returned with water to translate.

“He said the forest spirits healed her,” Neil explained. “In wanting to be healed, she allowed them to take temporary possession of her body. He said the forest spirits are very powerful, and their presence in someone makes great healing. In return, they get to briefly experience their world – their home – through her senses, her body, her eyes. The physical world we take for granted every day is an amazing experience for them. I think they were attracted to how Dr. Jensen regarded this place and the forest.”

At that moment, Annie started to mumble, and her eyes slowly opened. Taking in a long breath, she rubbed her face with her hand almost as if to check and feel if it was real. She looked up at Simon. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure except it was pretty fantastic,” he answered. “How do you feel?”

“Alive.” 

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ONGOWA!

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The Seductive Atlantean (E): A Net For Tools

Kaho Watanabe shows how her Sloggi rules above all Sloggi.

Well done, Kaho, well done.

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March 2012: the living tiki finds himself in his auto at a stoplight near his work. To his right on the sidewalk he could see two pretty young women walking by two young men of equal age, around 17 to 21 years. The boys responded to the girls presence accordingly and managed to gain their attention – eliciting smiles – yet they continued walking which provoked the boys to try even harder. When the girls were some distance away, one of the boys made a last ditch effort and called out. One girl turned her head, smiled, and then proceeded to teasingly lift up the back of her pleated miniskirt, revealing a very shapely and spectacular thonged mostly bare butt. The boys howled. One dropped to his knees in mock weakness, which made the girls laugh as they continued on. “Daaamn!”, the living tiki said aloud, still watching the girl walk away. He quickly looked around to see if he got busted by another driver for staring. All the other drivers were male, and all of them were watching the girls walk away, oblivious to the light that had just turned green.

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The pen may be mightier than the sword, but there’s something else that trumps them both.

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living tiki personal note:  OK, yeah, apologies again… getting back to blogging business has proven to be slightly more delayed [severe computer lameness problems included]. I must concede that I can promise nothing to my dear readers except more to come with the will to overstand my current reality as soon as possible.

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I’ll be getting back to the Atlantean part of all this a bit more in the next post of this series, but for now I’m dragging out the Ed Chiarini aspect of it again because I’m getting all those “tiki is Ed” comments. I’m not Ed.

What I’m doing is putting his revelations to MY test, the same as I’ve done with all the other truthseekers out there, including the Celtic Rebel. My test consists of three parts:

(1) Is this BS?

(2) If not, how does it fit in with everything else?

(3) Since a standard rule of thumb here at the age of volcanoes is that for every truth revealed, the real truth is usually ten times worse… is and/or how is this truth ten times worse?

To me, Ed’s work has passed (1), I’m working on (2), and as for (3)…. well, it’s what I – and all the other guests that the Rebel has had on his show – have been trying to illustrate in our own various ways:

Pretty much everything we’ve been told is deliberately wrong: History, pre-history, science, spirituality, medicine, health, even the way we mate and reproduce. Personally, I’d like to know why. I’d also like to learn what is right.

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[BLOG NOTE: If you think this research path I've taken is going nowhere, stay tuned... my next post in this series is going to tie together the Greenbergs, Atlantis, comic books, the holographic universe, and a discussion about will and fear, providing a perspective which may greatly aid in overstanding this reality. It's going to be interesting.]

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But with this post I will be revealing the secret to my super boob observation power, because it demonstrates how we’re all being worked.

I’m not just getting T for free, but A as well.

Not that I’m complaining.

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The owner of this glorious ass will be revealed further down, but for now some sad news:

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age of volcanoes action news flash: October 17, 2012: Dutch born actress and model Sylvia Kristel died from cancer at the age of 60. She was best known for the role of Emmanuelle in the 1974 soft-porn film of the same name, as well as numerous sequels. Not a shy person, Sylvia was actually apprehensive about starring in the film because she was afraid her mother might see it. To date, over 350 million people have seen Emmanuelle. No word if one of them was her mother.

Rest in peace, Sylvia.

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I now have a message for the parents of teenage girls (which will provide a nice segue to my super boob observation power revelation) illustrated by the lovely ladies of Central Connecticut University women’s volleyball team:

Parents, these are their uniforms:

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Slightly form fitting, wouldn’t you say?

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Did you know that high school girls have the same exact uniform?

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Not being a parent myself, I found that out when a mom brought her teenage volleyball playing daughter and teammates to the taco shop I was having lunch at.

Just sayin’….

…’cause that was your sixteen year old daughter bending over to get some lime wedges from the salsa bar.

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The sexualization of girls is happening at younger and younger ages these days, and if your daughter hasn’t developed early with huge boobs due to all the hormones and chemicals laced in her food, she will still have an automatic attention grabbing asset, one mightier than sword or pen. Corporations already know this:

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Girlfriend:  [thinking]  Daaamn! I really need to stop drinking Coca-Cola!

Boyfriend: [thinking]  Daaamn! I really need to get my girlfriend to start drinking more Coca-Cola!

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The evil ones know this as well:

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OK… you’re the President, you’re acutely aware that there are ten billion cameras pointed at you right now…. and you do this? [The girl was sixteen, by the way.]

Right.

Or maybe it was actually an involuntary reaction…. Ladies, your assets do have an eyeball gravitational pull of a black hole. Does your butt look big? Yes, yes it does. And it is awesome.

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But then again, Obama was in Europe where the evil ones have always pushed the boundary of the sexualization of younger and younger girls, such as Italian PM Silvio Berlusconi showing up with a present and note at the 18th birthday of a girl who wasn’t his daughter:

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Now, considering Mr. Berlusconi has had ‘older’ (ha!) public girlfriends that look like they could provide a lot more excitement than doe eyed Noemi above:

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Alessandra Sorcinelli

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And considering that Alessandra is implementing a little relationship programming for the masses on her own:

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Oh please start making out please start making out please start making out please start making out please start making out please start making….

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Yes!

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… I would say that young Noemi Letizia is being purposely singled out as a meme for the male masses, which becomes more apparent when one asks: “Gee, I wonder if there’s any other photos of Noemi out there?”

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YES!

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Butt how is this a programming meme?

I could go into detail about the divisions they are creating between the sexes, but I like my reality simple:

When you have older men desiring girls, middle age men desiring young women, young men desiring MILFs, MILFs desiring boys, young women desiring any men older than boys (they’ve had it at that point, but then you come full circle with) Cougars desiring boys, girls desiring boys, boys desiring boys, and all the men and women at any given time are continuously conditioned to give up and “go gay”….

….you have a screwed up relationship climate that is ripe for the homosexual pederasts running our planet to come out and say: “Hey does anybody have a problem with me hanging out with 9 year old Eduardo here? Anyone? Anyone?”

They want the evil requirement of a long life to be a lot easier to have around. That would be called (and coined and discovered by the Celtic Rebel) anal vampirism. The process pretty much speaks for itself, but what is extracted is a person’s lifeforce, not blood. And children sure seem to be filled with energy, don’t they?

And Berlusconi sure seems healthy, alert, and spry for a man pushing 80.

Or perhaps you feel that leading a country like Italy would be beneficial for a long and healthy life?

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He’s not just groping his daughter, he’s actually reinforcing a meme for the masses about appropriate parental behavior. Hey… it can’t be wrong if the President’s doing it! I mean come on, he’s the President! He knows everybody [the media] will be scrutinizing every bit of his behavior and well, nobody [the media] has said anything yet. So you see… if it was wrong, somebody [the media] would’ve said something.

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Instead of relying upon parental instinct (which is becoming further and further repressed), parents are being told and conditioned in a myriad of conscious and subconscious ways how to raise and regard children.

How did Mike Brady solve this parental problem? What did Roseanne do? The Waltons? The Bundys? The Cosbys? Hey… what about those parents that had that reality show with like, 8 kids? I bet they’ve got some good examples on how to raise kids.

Well, that is if some sort of seductive Jewish girl doesn’t get involved…

Oops! Too late!

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You can’t blame Hailey though. Like a scorpion, she just does what a Seductive Jewess does. It sort of runs on autopilot, which is why when Hailey gets drunk she sometimes attempts to seduce foliage:

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Classy.

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living tiki personal fun fact: When I used to watch Family Guy, I would watch it every weekday night as reruns. As everyone knows, remembering what particular scenes happened in what particular episodes is very difficult. However, for a while I thought I was psychic because in casual conversation with a co-worker I would mention a certain scene and then see that same exact scene on the rerun playing that night, even though I never checked any guide as to what episode would be playing. I soon realized what was happening in my brain: As syndicated reruns, they were usually shown starting at Season 1, Episode 1 in Season order until the last rerun (i.e., Season 6 Episode 15) plays and then it would start again at Season 1, Episode 1. In other words, my brain was subconsciously memorizing the sequences and scenes.

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Here’s another way the evil ones are playing around with our brains:

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the secret to the living tiki’s super boob observation power:

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OK, OK… It’s not really a super power. Sadly, it’s not even a secret.

Sorry ladies… I’m no hero.

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Ask a guy about a film when a female is present:

“It was entertaining. I enjoyed it.”

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Ask a guy about a film when a female is not present:

“Dude…. Scarlett Johannson has a shower scene. It’s awesome – you have to see this movie.”

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Hey! You didn’t pay twenty bucks plus parking! No boob for you!

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As with sport statistics (or with nerds… Star Trek episodes), men have an amazing computer-like ability to retain the memory of every bit of nudity in every film they’ve ever seen [well, at least I do.]

[Say... did anyone think of Seinfeld with the Scarlett commentary above?]

But it’s not solely confined to nudity (or even very attractive women), yet it could be defined as an implanted cinematic moment where my brain, either consciously or subconsciously, states: Damn, I’d really like to do her. I call it the heterosexual hook.

It’s why I can tell you the 1980 movie Fame is completely forgettable and sucks except for about thirty minutes in: Locker room shower scene boobs that almost… almost… make watching Fame worth it. Looking back, that was the heterosexual hook in a very homosexual programming film. Today’s equivalent would probably be the TV show Glee. Even though I’ve only seen previews of Glee, I can guarantee there are no heterosexual hooks put in for young male viewers nowadays. It’s not needed anymore – that’s how well the homosexual programming has worked so far.

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The hook is why I can recall the really nice pair of naked breasts at the end of They Live (Actually the second to last image, followed by the dialogue, “Hey baby, what’s wrong?”)

I also remember Vanessa Angel’s triumphant emergence from a tent in the suck-fest called Spies Like Us [with Paul McCartney providing the theme song]:

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And Kirsten Dunst’s triumphant um, ‘emergence’ from the chilly, chilly rain in Spiderman:

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And the hobby horse ride entire film of Jennifer Connelly in the suck-fest called Career Opportunities:

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Jennifer’s ride was a precursor to today’s similar programming for boys:

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Damn, I’d really like to do her! But there’s no way I’d get a girl as hot as Jennifer or Megan! What must I do oh wise Jewish film producers? Please, please… tell me the secret!

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Be gay, my young horny goyim. Hot girls love gay guys.

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C’mon, my sweet boy… it’s what we’ve been telling you all the time you were growing up….

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But you won’t get any more wishes until you rub our magic lamps!

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The heterosexual hook is also the reason I saw this awful awesome terrible greatest movie ever made:

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We’ll return to Mathilda May’s generous deposit into my spank bank later, because I want to discuss another god-awful film…

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(Hmm… lots of Jewish names in those credits.)

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There is absolutely nothing entertaining or redeemable about Cross My Heart except seeing Annette O’Toole get naked and amusingly attempt sex with Martin Short.

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Annette O’Toole

A net for tools

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Huh? Huh? Pretty clever. OK, maybe not.. but it was for me. How did my tool get caught in her net when Annette is probably the most boring actress in the most god-awful films ever made?

From what I can remember, Annette was always portrayed as the wholesome, innocent, farm-girl type… i.e., cute, naive, and damn! look at those boobs!

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Annette and friends in a scene from Cat People.

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I was too young for 1982′s gory Cat People, so how was my mind imprinted with wanting to see Annette O’Toole, even though the name Martin Short guarantees a suck-fest?

Because I watched another god-awful film called Superman III. It had this scene:

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age of volcanoes fun fact: The subtitles above are Indonesian. Ini means “here you are”, and terima kasih means “thank you” – but a more literal translation would be “receive love”. Not the love for Indonesian women and their butts, mind you – the word for that is “cinta”.

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Superman III was so bad, it even sucked for a young comic book fan such as myself. Therefore, my mind’s attention was drawn to that substitute teacher babysitter older sister’s friend girl next door crush bait known as Annette O’Toole, and the only scene that I can remember from a horrible movie….  

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

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Do you think the Jewish filmmakers just randomly chose everything about this scene? Including filming in weather that could be described as sort of um, “nippy”?

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Perhaps you were too focused on the blatant heterosexual hook in Superman:

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Valerie Perrine as Ms. Tessmacher! Ms. Tessmacher!!!

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I’m not sure about today, but in the past a lot of the actresses in films aimed at boys had posed for Playboy:

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Valerie’s connection to Superman (and all the pre-teen boys out there) was heavily promoted.

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(Photo included simply because she’s adorable and I’ve been wanting to see Valerie’s friends since 1978. Although near the end of Superman I, Valerie wins a wet shirt contest only she is entered in.)

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Annette didn’t pose for Playboy however, because apparently she’s not Annette, and that wasn’t part of “Annette’s” programming for men:

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Oh dear god, not Ed again!

Yes, Ed.

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I’m sorry, I can’t tell you for certain about John Ritter, but I can tell you that this woman…

…is also this woman:

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Now before everyone gets all frenzied with the “they look nothing alike” talk, I’m not Ed. I’m not comparing ears. I’m comparing boobs In other words, I’m attempting to recognize in one woman the features – the eyes, the smile, the body, the hair, the voice, the mannerisms – that I’ve spent possibly a little time intently thinking about *ahem* with another woman.

In other, other words: With women, my bank is really good about checking ID.

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I also see how they fit in with the programming….

Cross My Heart [aside from the creepy swear meme suffix "....and hope to die"] probably brought to mind a ‘popular’ bra:

The “Cross Your Heat” bra:

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(Hey guys… like with Vanessa, Kirsten, and Jennifer above, if you squint a little you can totally see areola. It’s awesome. Shhhh… don’t tell the female readers I said anything. OK, OK, they’re coming back from the bathroom… just act cool. Shh… be cool.)

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Cross Your Heart was introduced through actress Jane Russell, who starred with Marylin Monroe in the homosexual programming transvestite comedy Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

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Oddly enough, there’s a photo of both of them that was recently on display in a Jewish museum in Vienna (aside from Marylin being an SJ, don’t ask me why):

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Photo is on wall, top left.

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Through my own research showing an attack on women’s breasts by the evil ones, more and more it is becoming apparent to me that bras may be causing breast cancer. The breast is essentially a gland, and the human glandular system is under attack in a variety of ways, one of which is constriction and that’s never good. For men, wearing ‘tighty whities’ means low sperm count.

For an excellent discussion between Alex Robinson and Kyle Hunt of Star Theory on this topic and others related to women, I recommend a podcast on her blog Too Long In This Place titled “Chatting with the skylark.”

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But wait tiki, they do care! This is breast cancer awareness month!

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Three points, before you buy something pink:

(1) This is sexual programming using love of breasts to steal your money. The following unauthorized slogan [meaning the money is not going to them] illustrates it better:

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That, and the fact they had porn stars with an Alex Jones connection promoting it:

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And a Playboy connection:

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My personal authorized [It's got the pink ribbon!] favorite is the creamer [although, like in the film Land Of The Lost, you can probably find a cheaper unauthorized one in a roadside desert gift-shop]:

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Breast Cancer awareness month is complete bullshit. I bet you won’t hear anybody at the Susan G. Komen center for breast whatever saying, “Hey everyone, what if mammograms actually cause breast cancer?”

Again… the evil ones hate women and their breasts:

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When you see every damn corporation (and the NFL) jumping on the bandwagon and promoting Breast Cancer Awareness month like nobody anywhere ever cared about breasts, you can rely on the bullshit even getting worse:

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There are so many things wrong with this I’m not even going to try.

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Because this con has gone international:

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These are from Mozambique. They are using characters from both rival comic companies, DC and Marvel (which is owned by Disney). These companies are not doing this because they care about the breasts of Mozambique women – these stamps are made as collectables. The money’s always a reason, but the true programming intent is to show your pre-teen son Storm, Wonder Woman, She-Hulk, and Catwoman totally fondling themselves. 

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(2) I’m still waiting for a t-shirt that reads, “Squeeze a prostate, save a life.”

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and…

(3) Did you know that October is also Bullying Awareness Month?

Did you even know there was a Bullying Awareness Month? I was made aware of that by my bank’s tellers, who were wearing purple tops to make people aware [A bank is involved with this?]. I’m not sure why they have a blue shirt day as well (which the Celtic Rebel showed to be a gay color code by the ones doing all the programming):

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And here we go again with the programming of your children:

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Note the bigger girl leading the boy.

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With corporations jumping on the bandwagon:

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And heterosexual hooks:

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And when you have the above criteria, it always seems there’s  – wait for it… here comes Ed-O-Vision - a Greenberg involved….

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Fictional persona Rebecca Black says “No H8!”

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You remember Rebecca and her annoying, annoying chant don’t you?

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The one that she totally stole borrowed from the Beatles her friend John Lennon Steve Jobs:

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And the one where 14 year old [yeah right] Rebecca’s mother had absolutely no problem with her daughter and friends being associated with Pato.

Meet Pato:

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Pato’s rapping is almost… almost… a relief from Rebecca’s singing.

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But what gives away Rebecca as BS is that she immediately has millions of YouTube hits, and then is suddenly in a Katy Perry video:

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And… in my opinion, giving a look of someone much older than 14.

Well, other than the standard Disney Always have your glistening mouth open and next to something phallic-shaped look:

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But have you noticed something familiar about her “look?”

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She looks related to another girl (briefly) thrust into the spotlight, and a family of psychological terrorists….

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And now you know why she’s against “H8″. In other words, you now know why this random, unknown, fourteen year old girl suddenly shot into the spotlight is trying to influence your vote in an election instead of just being a fourteen year old girl.

Apparently she too is a victim of bullying:

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Dear Rebecca, I think you are really cool and really pretty. All my stupid friends in school say you’re annoying, but I like your singing. I know what it’s like to be picked on too and I think you’re really cool for just being yourself. I’ve read a lot of mean comments on your videos like when they say you’re fat and stuff.

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Don’t listen to all those haters! I watch your videos all the time and I think you’re… um…

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…uh…. I just think you’re really pretty and I really really love you. I’m not like the guys who bully and alright alright mom I’ll be out of the bathroom in a moment! No, I haven’t been in that long! 

Shoot… did I just type and send that on my laptop?

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They are shaping the way we behave as a species. Personally, I feel the “Rebecca” style programming of my day was even worse….

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How is a healthy young male Star Trek fan supposed to react to cute Marina with her Mediterranean girl next door hotness…

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…when she’s continuously presented as sensible, professional, modest – possibly even prudish, is a Lieutenant Commander,

yet wears a low cut, skin-tight outfit all the freakin’ time: 

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Wait, I’m sorry… not all the time…

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Yes Commander, I was hoping you could adjust the climate control in my quarters. It’s stuck on “nippy”.

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And let’s not forget aerobics day:

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Which is like, pretty much every day on the Enterprise:

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That’s one of the ways where the feminization of men and the masculinization of women began. If you remember, Deanna became involved with the most badass guy on the ship, but who was ‘the man’ in that relationship?

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And many forget Roddenberry actually attempted to introduce minidresses for men:

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Seriously? They even had the actor shave his freakin’ legs?

I’m sorry, but there is no freakin’ way I would ever wear a minidress or tunic. Even if it was an Enterprise uniform. Even if it was for a Halloween party where Marina was there and it totally made her laugh and I got her drunk and found out her favorite thing to do is to fulfill Star Trek nerd fantasies and….

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OK nobody tell anybody.

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Hopefully this shows how the evil ones are programming men, changing generations, with the heterosexual hook. The entire movie of Career Opportunities was homosexual programming with a hook. So was Lifeforce.

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I’ll describe Lifeforce with the probable call actress Mathilda May received from her agent:

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Mathilda: Hello?

Agent: Tildi, baby… it’s me. Guess what – I got you a lead role, babe!

Mathilda: Oh my god you’re joking! How? I haven’t done any auditions lately!

Agent: I just showed them your portfolio and convinced them you were absolutely perfect for the part.

Mathilda: This is so exciting! What’s the movie and role?

Agent: It’s called Lifeforce. Major sci-fi story from some of the guys who made Alien. You’re going to play some sort-of a sexy space vampire. Filming starts Monday, baby!

Mathilda: Wow, that soon… I’ll need the script right away.

Agent: Um, you um… you don’t say that much.

Mathilda: Wait… what? How many lines do I have?

Agent: Um… 3, 4, 5 – you have about 5.

Mathilda: 5?! I have 5 lines?  Are you reading the script now?

Agent: No, I wrote them down on a cocktail napkin… I guess you don’t talk much. It’s more like physical acting. But the lead role, baby!

Mathilda: Well, then let me know when wardrobe wants to do a fitting.

Agent: Um, yeah… you’re not going to be wearing much either.

Mathilda: Much?

Agent: Did I say much? I meant much less.

Mathilda: Much less?

Agent: OK, you’re naked.

Mathilda: Naked? What… for like a sex scene or something?

Agent: The entire film.

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Mathilda: Wait… did you just say the entire film?

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Agent: No, of course not… of course not. You wear…. stuff.

Mathilda: Just how long am I wearing “stuff?”

Agent: 10 seconds.

Mathilda: 10 seconds?!!

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Agent: Oh, OK… maybe more like 5.

Mathilda: Five?! Do I at least sexily seduce men which will make all the male viewers totally want me?

Agent: Um… well, you seduce them by doing basically all you need to do in real life – standing in front of them naked. But you don’t drain them vampirically in an Interview With A Vampire sort of way. It’s a repulsive Poltergeist sort of way.

No, not really sexy.

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Mathilda: Dammit! Okaaay… is there anything else you’re not telling me about this fabulous role?

Agent: Um…  I may – may – have sort of promised one or all of the producers you would suck their cocks.

Mathilda: Wait, what was that… I couldn’t hear that last part.

Agent: Tunnel, babe – I’m losing you – sorry… gotta go. Kisses!

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Mathilda May, aside from the other massively gay programming in Lifeforce where Captain Picard gets super creepy and nearly kisses a guy and the interior of the alien spacecraft looks like a giant anus…

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… is the heterosexual hook to make boys homosexual by first making them want to do her:

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And then scare the crap out of them by turning her into Jesus Christ what the fuck is that thing?!

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Plus, the only other woman in the film gets all super sexy….

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… but then you only get to see her naked like this:

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Not Yes! Not Yes! at all!

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It’s the same programming they used in Species:

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Yep, you better not be the normal guy who totally wants to have sex with a hot girl…

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… they get devoured first!

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Or impaled with an ice-pick by Sharon Stone:

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So there you go, young men of today: Women older than 21 will kill you. Stick with the younger girls… all they want you to do is look like Justin Beiber:

That’s not so bad is it?

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C’mon… we know you’ve seen his “girlfriend” Selena Gomez:

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The Disney Channel:

It’s like The Playboy Channel, but for with kids!

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Wow! Hey young man, I’m sure you’d like to touch that butt like Justin can, wouldn’t you?

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I said… like Justin can…

*ahem*

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OK, this isn’t working…

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Selena: Hello?

Disney: Butt shot gold, baby! However um…. we were wondering if Justin can actually touch your ass. We want the teen boys to know that if they look and act like Justin they will be able to touch your ass… not just look at it.

Selena: Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker and ask him.

Justin, the Disney paparazzi are on my phone and they want you to touch my butt for a shot.

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Selena: He’s whining and wondering if he has to….

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Disney: Tell him he’s under contract.

Selena: I don’t know… he’s the only guy NOT checking out my ass.

Disney: Tell him to imagine you’re Nick Jonas.

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Selena: Justin says “Hardee har har.”

Here, Justin, I’ll make it totally casual… I’ll pretend like I’m reaching for something…

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Selena: …and lean over you like this…

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Selena: OK, now touch my ass…

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Selena: Justin… helloooo, Justin? Are you even looking at my ass?

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Selena: Guys? I’m sorry… Justin tells me he doesn’t want to do it in public.

Disney: Dammit. Alright. We’ll get the shot later on a balcony or something.

Justin: Only one hand! And I want to still wear my sunglasses so I don’t have to look into her eyes and junk!

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Selena: Justin, I think Disney may want us to kiss too.

Justin: Yuck. Worst vacation ever.

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Selena: Hey, try being a teen girl with a butt that….. oh, never mind.

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POST UPDATE: Hmm. I sometimes wonder if the powers that creep actually read my blog. Here’s December’s Glamor cover with one of their “Women of the Year”, Selena Gomez: 

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That’s right ladies… Selena is the gal to emulate this year. So get to work on that Always have your glistening mouth open and next to something phallic shaped Disney photo smile! And wear something low-cut:

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Selena was also in Hotel Transylvania:

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Which has very Jewish looking monsters (note red hair):

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Hmm. Jews that suck blood… where have I heard that before?

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And what have Selena’s owners – Disney – been up to lately? 

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They just purchased Lucasfilm for $4 billion dollars, thereby proving that George Lucas is determined to eat all the money in the world.

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And Selena’s asset brings us back to the owner of the glorious mystery asset:

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Yep, the paparazzi just ‘lucked out’ getting a shot of Kate’s T, and now they just ‘lucked out’ getting a shot of her A.

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That has to be the happiest British soldier I’ve ever seen.

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And it just happened to be on the day the Duchess of Cambridge wore a thong or… nothing?

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Kate keeps making deposits in my bank.

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It’s like she’s trying to pay the overdraft that will be left by Sylvia Kristel.

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Butt wait! 

There are those who still don’t believe that butt also belongs to Katie Holmes. 

Since they may not have spent as much time thinking about such things as I, a dead give-away that Kate is Katie came to me when I was checking out a photo in Royalty magazine on the newsstand. Kate was smiling and looked exactly like Katie to me… why?

Katie has a crooked smile:

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It pulls to the left.

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And when she shows teeth, it’s almost like a growl – showing bottom teeth with curved lip – as seen in this photo of her as a child:

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(She’s being compared to Suri.)

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Kate Middleton had the same exact smile in the magazine (This different photo on the web was the closest resembling):

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“Kate” tries to balance her smile…

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But then you’ll see that slight pull…

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But Kat(i)e’s not using her glorious ass and Damn! look at those legs to make me have a good night’s sleep – it’s all memes to affect my subconscious. One of the memes is for the British soldier above. When he’s fighting for his CUNTry in Afghanistan, he doesn’t want to think he’s doing it for rich old men with bad teeth, he wants to think he’s doing it for what’s putting a smile on his face. 

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All of this is not accidental, not coincidental, not random. The programming of our species is coordinated through many sources. Nonetheless, the biggest clue is when the same sources keep showing up, like when Kate Middleton’s cousin Katrina Darling posed for last month’s Playboy:

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The Royal Family seems to be cool with her being a burlesque dancer too:

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Maybe she’s part of some plan to improve U.S. / British relations.

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Is it me or do all the Middleton women seem intently focused on giving the world a boner? 

It’s probably me, because the here’s the response of ‘solidarity’ by British soldiers when Prince Harry was recently photographed by paparazzi (then “criticized”… yeah right) cavorting nude in Las Vegas:  

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Kinda gay, lads.

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But then again the Royal wedding gave us a new term for Webster’s: Pippa’s bum.

Pippa Middleton and her asset.

The ones who coordinate such programming made sure you also don’t have to use much imagination…

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Here’s how well that programming worked on women:

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Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

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At this point, I’m certain some all of my female readers are thinking I wrote this post as an excuse to show women in various states of undress [Shh.. be cool], but I’m actually trying to (1) show how it is programming and (2) visually inundate you with it, because that is what they are doing to men in all the ways I’ve shown and more. Sex does drain our life-force. The French have an idiom for orgasm: La petite mort…

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“The little death”

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Ed’s work, combined with all the genuine and true research out there tells me that these acting shennanegans go way beyond a group of people trying to take over the world and get rich. They have been doing this for a long, long time and seem to know exactly how to do it. They are much smarter than we may be giving them credit for, and they appear to have an extensive knowledge of human psychology.

It is highly unlikely this particular group of people, the evil ones, learned all this “along the way” like the rest of us. They had this knowledge beforehand. Before our history began.

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“This has all happened before, and it will all happen again.”

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The above quote comes from a remake of a TV show which had a repeating cycle of humanity as it’s central theme: Battlestar Galactica.

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Galactica didn’t have aerobics day, just Grace Park and Tricia Helfer:

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In the show, you had robots similar to humans in every way (like Grace and Tricia), so you had some of the humans who thought they were human, but were really robots. A plot point was that five of them realized they were robots because they kept hearing the theme to Jimi Hendrix’s All Along The Watchtower in their heads. This was a plot twist in the show because the Battlestar hadn’t reached Earth yet, and how the hell can they be hearing a Hendrix song and know the words?

You learn that the song was from a prior civilization, embedded in the robots’ programming (and would take too needlessly long to explain how Jimi [or rather Bob Dylan, or rather Bob Zimmerman] happened to write it.) 

This came to mind as I was writing this post. Oddly enough, a classic rock station I sometimes listen to started playing that song much more frequently. And then I very recently checked Ed’s website and saw this video:

(click on link to find out who Jimi is today)

Voodoo

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I once heard a caller on a radio talk show make the comment that George Bush really seemed to play well the “role” of being sort of an end times “bad guy”, as if his persona was needed to fill that role at that time. Everything about our reality seems ‘needed’ to fill that role at that time. And the evil ones seem to have plenty of evil helpers to provide all the necessity – from Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix songs, to lone gunmen and their targets, to politicians and their wars, to celebrities and their paparazzi, to butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers…

…to actresses who are cast in a certain film just to provide that one necessary image to linger and dance inside your subconscious….

…purposely leaving the door to it open.

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POST UPDATE: A perfect example of how our reality is a broken record – they’ve gotten so lazy at it, they’re still going with the same script:

We’ve Heard It All Before (Obama 2008 and 2012)

The punchline is at the end, where the video is prompting you to vote for Romney.

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This has all happened before….

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Royal scandal 80′s style:

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And it will all happen again.

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Welcome to the multi-plex.

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There must be some kind of way out of here

Said the joker to the thief

There’s too much confusion

I can’t get no relief

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Businessmen, they drink my wine

Plowmen dig my earth

None will level on the wine

Nobody of it is worth

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No reason to get exited

The thief he kindly spoke

There are many here among us

Who feel that life is but a joke

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But you and I have been through that

And this is not our fate

So let us talk falsely now

The hour’s getting late

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“All Along The Watchtower”

Bob Dylan

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ONGOWA!

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Yes!

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