Insider info and illuminati analysis...

...from the man they just can't recruit.

Monday, 7 August 2017

Dead dogs and Lebanese mountain bandits.

It felt like being stalked constantly by an ancient evil, one roused from slumber by the pleasing sound of chaos and the rattling motion of heedless idiocy. Three dead dogs and two car accidents in the space of a twenty minute drive from Beirut to Sidon.

The first one of which I passed was like a vacuum or zero point outside of time. The scene shimmered with death and helpless policemen stood frozen inside the zero point and an unspeakable dampness of the punctured and lacerated oozed beneath the torn body of the car and whoever had been in the back seat. I didn’t even focus on the front seat, suffice to say it’ll probably be in Monday’s paper with lots of wringing of hands and impotent wailing as nothing whatsoever is done to curb the rate of traffic deaths.

The second accident had been much more cordial however, and the police busied themselves taking notes and employing themselves with the bureaucracy of poor but sometimes energetic infrastructure; usually long after the fact, writing up notes for the insurance companies which of course failed to mention the rotten condition of the roads and the lack of interest which anyone in the country seems to really have about people getting killed in road accidents. 

If they cared about traffic deaths they wouldn’t drive like assholes. But they do. Stupid assholes who don’t understand the dangerous power of Newtonian mechanics and the frailty of human flesh and bone when rattled and wrapped up in high speed collisions with metal and stone. I drove here and I was terrified. Every maniac pulling out from nowhere, every plonker who suddenly stopped his car on the motorway for no reason, was an assault on reason and my worn nerves.

As I write this, a glass breaks smashed to the ground at the sushi bar at Beirut airport overlooking the improbably tower blocked deep receding hills of this city of relentless concrete. 

Death is a powerful word. It resonates whenever it is written or even thought. In dangerous ways. The Almaza pure malt beer has opened up a corridor of communication between my ever-mute locked-in self and the cheerful white screen whose purity I do not conceive of corrupting only enhancing with nothing but the bloody truth.

In addition to three dead dogs and two dead cars I bumped into what I can only describe as some idiots from Hezbollah.

All I had wanted to do was investigate a couple of ancient Canaanite ruins and maybe a crusader castle. The day was ruined and my mood blacked to apocalyptic levels of impending bomb destruction by bearded goofs in the mountain villages harassing passing motorists with DVD’s of some silly bearded Fakir.

I hadn’t thought much of it initially, except that these interminable mountain villages which took me closer and closer to the Syrian border were alternately either bedecked with posters and billboards for some odious secular politico with a child-abuser face, or else a mystified looking madman with a beard looking to draw in other mystified mad-men with beards. Like some kind of ever accumulating mass of human hairiness which will roll down the mountains like a vast human tumbleweed snagging more bearded men into its obscure depths.

In fact I'd often been asked while living in the Muslim world why I don't have a beard. The answer is obvious: Because I'm not a Broadway Market hipster wanker. Fuck beards. I hate them! They belong to Communists and cider tramps. 

The first time they had left me alone, as I glided by in an improbably luxurious and sleek looking black Kia Optima. I’d only wanted a bloody Ford Fiesta but they just had to go an upgrade me to something too big and expensive to really drive in this country on the verge of autogeddon apocalypse. 

I was too tired to refuse. So there I was, buzzing around these dead dirt poor rubbish strewn hills in a fancy shit-mobile, a smooth faced chimp in three-quarter length combat shorts and blue Quicksilver hoodie. Dressed like the beach cunt I really and obviously was. 

It was the same blue hoodie farmed from TK MAX  that I had worn at the March Against Terrorism in London the day before which I hoped wasn’t in any way affiliated with Britain First or any such bare-knuckle neo-nazism. The SAS guy had put on a damn good show though, when referring to the government’s instructions in a terror event; not to hide under tables and cower, but to ‘Stand and defend and protect!’. Can’t argue with that. Would like to think I would put that into action if the worst case ever arose. 

I knew an SAS bloke once, he would tag around with North London UFO hunting weirdos for some reason. Told me all about the SAS training. Not just the rough stuff, but the dirty and depressing mind-breaking stuff. They pretended that the IRA had caught them and would then torture them, even involving their own families in the charade. I think it left a bad feeling with him. 

But to return to the bearded ones. The first time they had harassed some other motorist with their beards and DVD’s. And I think he had bought one. A kind of Sunday Market banditry arrangement seems to have been taking places in the hidey hills of the deep Lebanese countryside. It was Sunday too. Maybe they had a car-boot open somewhere too selling iffy Calvin Kleins and moody bottles of Chanel Number 5 from a suitcase.

The second time they annoyed me though and got my attention. They were in the road, doing their flea-market banditry thing, and two of them came close to my car, I waved at them charitably to acknowledge the length of their beards, but they advanced. 

What was I supposed to do with a DVD about some bearded Shia messiah or other who was probably no more holy than the oily looking secular politician of the previous village. You’ve got to hand it to Hezbollah for SHIA brass balls to pester westerners with their rubbish. I put my foot down on the accelerator a little, but being used to driving around back home in a slightly underpowered Toyota Yaris I was surprised by the power of the motor it gave a screech of wheels and a dirty vroom sound which sent them scattering. “Sorry about that” I didn’t say. 

I tried to stop myself calling them fucking idiots, especially when they started tapping on my window with one of the DVD's. I got my karma though since the road I was following suddenly became a dead-end. For a moment I saw a car following me close behind at high speed and wondered if they were after me for rejecting their lord of the beards, but then I lost interest and got on with my drive, doing a u-turn and turning off at the turning I had missed before and saw the beards no more.

Worse and even more annoying than Hezbollah were the goddamn speed-bumps which the authorities feel the need to randomly lay everywhere on every road in Lebanon, without even a warning at fifty yards. True, some of them had once been painted yellow but nothing now remained of that ancient chroma to give the clue to the deadly danger. As if the country didn’t already have a problem with car accidents. Few things are more lethal than a sleeping policeman who overslept and no one knows he’s even there. But why did they even need speed-bumps anyway? The roads were already wrecked with so many cavernous pot-holes which I pondered might be the result of Israeli hellfire missiles from the 2006 war. 

Tony Robinson and his Time Team could probably have spent a satisfying week at one of Lebanon’s pot-holes.

I also pondered whether the lack of signs regarding the presence of speed-bumps on all of Lebanon’s roads might also be some tactic to slow-down any projected incursion by the Israeli army or even ISIS. For that matter there were no signs or highway infrastructure to speak of. Motorway lanes had not been redrawn since the French or Phoenicians had first built them. Roundabouts and traffic lights came upon the driver with sudden surprise and alarm and we all just seemed to roll with it, like some kind of frantic Commodore 64 game or the hardest ever level from Crash Bandicoot. 

The traffic lights were made all the more surprising since none of them worked but clearly they were supposed to, being placed at dangerous and busy intersections. So it was an interesting free for all which probably claimed at least a couple of traffic accidents per day and possibly some lives every other day.

I had had plans to visit the Temple of Jupiter or Baalbek, a deity whose name I believe should not be pronounced to sound like ‘ball-bag’. He or it was the evil child sacrificing monster Satan of the Canaanites but he had now left the Temple to the tourists and was probably busy messing about creating deadly anarchy in the highway infrastructure.

After meeting Hezbollah, zombie policemen and dead things on the road, I’d had enough. I pulled over at a coffee shop and ordered a coffee. Bought a packet of Davidhoffs from the garage and smoked a long couple or three ‘fuck this’ cigarettes, before driving my rental car back to the safety of the airport and hiding in the bar until my flight and escape.

I picked up the copy of the Labanese Daily Star, which was by no means any relation to the British titular version, but more like a slightly less weighty Sunday Telegraph full of news from the front line battle against ISIS. It seems that our bearded Shia chums the Hezbollah have joined the regular Lebanese military in their battle against ISIS, of course I didn’t get particularly close to the front lines but it made me realise how easily I might have done. And what might I have found when I got there. 

I’m quite tempted to book a cheap flight with Whiz-air, write a fictional hotel name on my immigration card, and actually see what all the fuss is about. Though I doubt ISIS could ever take Lebanon. They'd never survive the traffic.

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

Weaponised Popstars: Bendy Roads to Punk Apocalypse.

70AD: The Year Punk Rock and the Pop Apocalypse was born! 

It was the year 3830 by Eleazar Ben Simon's reckoning. The cooling bodies, filling every street, sometimes piled as many as four of five high, were so numerous that the dying did not even have their own place to fall. There had been a million people crammed into the city, from every nation and empire of the known world. All come to Holy Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. But none had been spared, even now the killing continued and there was nothing to celebrate except their own looming extinction.

The Romans had entered the city three days ago, their arms surely wearied from chopping down defenceless pilgrims: old men, the women and children. All around was the sound of sudden screams which reached his ears and now the Romans hacked with a lack of discrimination so as to almost appear disinterested. 

To Eleazar Ben Simon it was like the Romans were massacring his people with the gusto of an office clerk. Lazily but with implacable determination. 

This has been going on for three days now and peace would come only for lack of more victims. There were sobs of the fallen and those whimpering and forlorn whom the Romans could not even be bothered to kill, these sounds were accompanied by the gasps of pain of the dying and their final passing gave rise to peace. 

The amount of blood could not be believed.  As Eleazar, former leader of the Zealots hid himself inside his attic hide-out, surveying with a supreme sense of affront, the carnage the Romans were now wreaking on his city and his people.

At that point, he started to plan. He saw now that it was impossible to ever beat the Westerners in open war. There would have to be another way but it would be a long term project. They had nearly killed his people and possibly they intended to wipe them out altogether, but as long as a remnant could be found, they would work his plan. A plan which would probably bear no fruit even in his lifetime or that of his children, but one day the Westerners would be brought low and his people would reign supreme on the ashes of their civilisation.

But they would not hack the bodies, nor rape the women and burn the holy places. These were not fit tasks for God’s chosen people. They would find others to do these things for them. They would recruit from the Westerners themselves the agents of their own downfall. It all became very clear in Eleazar’s mind, even in the midst of their utmost destruction and greatest loss, he knew that destiny had singled him out to conceive this plan which would stretch far far into the future, far beyond even the Roman’s sight, and would leave his people conquerors of the whole world. He laughed and slowly muttered to himself over and over, ‘give ‘em enough rope,’ until it became a low chant which seemed to take flight on a sudden breeze above the smoldering, burnt out city. Their revenge would be terrible, more terrible if it were possible than the sight of the butchered men and women blood-staining the streets of the holiest city on Earth. 'Give 'em enough rope!'

He shuddered at the thought of their total subjugation which though remote in time, was already an absolute certainty for him because he knew God would not stand this affront. As he reasoned he concluded that this had all transpired for this very reason, in order to make them the eventual masters over the Earth. The fall of Jerusalem was the first necessary sacrifice. There would no doubt be many more before they achieved their goal.

Joe Stummer loves red-terror so much he got the T Shirt. The BR were credited with 14,000 acts of violence in the first ten years of the group's existence.[28] According to statistics by the Ministry of Interior. A total of 75 people are thought to have been murdered by the BR.

Nearly two thousand years later the plan formulated by Eleazer Ben Simon while hiding from the Roman holocaust of Jerusalem, had ravished Europe and utterly subjugated the Westerners on all fronts. It had been passed along in time and space with a dedication and devotion which saw the rise and fall of Empires, and remained unchanged and unwavering. First in the ruins of Judea in hiding from the Roman legions, then to Athens or Marseille, to Moscow, to Portugal then finally to England.  The final battle ground in the culture wars where only one side was fighting and the other didn’t even know it was being defeated.

To an impressionable young child, the strange solemn men and a grandmother who appeared suddenly unfamiliar and frightening, was a deeply transformative experience. A knife at the young boy’s throat, an oath sworn to the Sicarii to fight the Westerners with every ounce of blood in their body or have their throat cut like an animal: better dead if you can’t serve the Sicarii like a man. Then the sudden passage from terror to joy as a new Sicarii fighter is born. 

Then the surprise of a great banquet with sufganiyot usually reserved for Hanukah and even his own glass of wine which was even topped up. He went to bed that night full of jelly doughnuts and thick kosher wine, and what was more he was now a man and he had been entrusted a solemn mission, one which he could not fail in, his people depended on him. He would not fail them and they would support him as one man, a nation spread out throughout the world, millions of men all devoted, like him to this one mission and all wiling at a moment’s notice, to give any help he required. How could they lose? They didn’t, they wouldn’t, they don’t. They went from victory to victory and the dazzling beauty of it all was that no one suspected a thing.

In a clothes shop in London’s King's Road a man who resembled a straggly ginger tom cat only lacking the  fastidious grooming habits of that species, was singing a snarling and tuneless song to the accompaniment of a duke-box. Another man of Scottish extraction was shouting instructions and encouraging him with gestures.

He had been brought into the shop by Bendie Rhodes, who had immediately spotted a man who he could use as an unsuspecting tool in his people's undeclared war. He had spotted an angle he could work, he could use the family clothing business as a way to push forward new and degenerate fashions and use music so the two prongs act in symbiosis to create a new and horribly degraded counter culture.

It had been observed that despite the attempts of their agents in the 60’s to destabilise British society using pop-music, they had found that instead it had led to a flowering of British culture and an intellectual growth in young people who were being introduced suddenly to various metaphysical, psychological and social concepts contained within the lyrics to 60’s pop music and had managed to assimilate these very well. Things were even worse now in the 70’s with bands like Pink Floyd who were making cogent and highly articulate protests about the ruling elite and were likewise encouraging young people to have the same intelligent and cogent approach. It was a disaster! Pink Floyd had to be stopped and he had found the very man to help undermine their intellectual and articulate approach. Johnny Rotten: the human antidote to Pink Floyd.

Bendie Rhodes was pleased with his creation. The snarling spitting vomiting Sex Pistols, but felt that pop music was rather like politics. If you wanted complete control you had to have your hand up all the backsides otherwise you were just a weird bloke with  a puppet on his arm. He had been tipped off that the band the 101'ers had a lead singer who was also a secret member of the Sicarii and what was more, his father was an eminence gris of the British secret service and it was custom to reward the offspring of those who served their country with some kind of cushy number in the arts. 

Malcolm McLaren and Dame Vivienne Westwood DBE RDI. Pro-rape and paedo T shirt apparently created by Bernie Rhodes.

The invention of pop music allowed the British government to branch out and provide more career opportunities to both reward and keep a person holding a sensitive position’s offspring in the public eye, since if all an agent had to do to monitor a former agent's family member's activity was to turn on the television then so much the better. The Americans had been doing something very similar with senior military staff and most of the most famous music stars of the 1960’s were promoted solely on the basis of their father’s military service record. Dee Dee Ramone, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Frank Zappa, Kris Kristofersen, Michael Stipe, all benefited from the US military’s generous cultural investment programme.

John Mellors was exactly the puppet Bendie needed to complete his pop pantomime and cultural assault on the Westerners. Already the man was in disguise, a member of the British elite but behind enemy lines with the common punk rabble affecting a mock cockney accent and pretending to be hard up and calling himself Joe Stummer.  Above all he was instructed by Bendie to always pretend to be working class and affect a working class accent. Additionally, despite being able to sing quite well he was told above all, to sing badly. To affect an out of tune raspy voice which above all, was to sound bad. 

If Bendie could convince young people to enjoy bad music with a very feeble and barely constructed intellectual message then he would be able to make them emulate this and therefore weaken the intellectual development of an entire nation, thus protecting the elite of which he was a part, from any well orchestrated and unmatchable intellectual attack. Much better to have any citizens who oppose you dressed in rags, drunk and shouting curses because they are so much easier to arrest and so much easier for the general public to disdain.

A Total Waste of Everybody's Time.

Joe Strummer had the misfortune to inaugurate the annual Christmas-time cull of pop stars, the first of what would soon become an annual tradition as pop stars who had outlived their usefulness or had been ignoring the memos from the Sicarii pop-star management team. He became a victim of the great dead rock star Christmas lottery which has seen such legends as James Brown, David Bowie, George Michael, all fail to have their contracts renewed for the following infernal year.

Punk Pop One Eyed Illuminati Dajjal Apocalypse Time!

Reality dawned on Johnny Rotten in 1979 in San Francisco, as he looked out at the audience and saw for the first time what he had helped create and he took the mike, vowing to end this artificial pantomime and hanging up his puppet strings for good when he said the words, ‘ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?’

Johnny Rotten: Plastic punk pop product.

The previous article was particularly difficult for me to write and research because I love the Sex Pistols and The Clash.....Fucking hate Malcolm Mclaren though.

Not you as well.....

Thursday, 18 May 2017

A Reader's Poem.

The Everything Christ by Tenderfoot-In-Truth

Why is is that everybody seems to be sleeping awake? 
What other ways do we have?
Existence we have created,
For the survival of this very cheap loneliness.

We need something more, 
Something exuberant, 
Something great.

I wait for that day,
I can't understand the greatness of God 
I just dream 
Those in Christ will be glorified

Victorious, powerful, sinless,
Together with Christ 
Judging Together with Christ 
Ruling Together with Christ 
Without a single wrinkle.

Of the rubber of water, robbers vanished into the night 
Time meaningless 
Hours forgotten 
Seconds, minute ripples 
What is His love? 
What made me worth it?

A single breath 
For Him to come down and save me 
A worthless piece of dust and yet 
The breath was worth it all 
It was worth  

Livened, strengthened, and permitted 
Saved, determined, routed 
A single breath 
Upheld, predestined, secured 
Enamored, attracted, envisioned 
A greater I 
For the glory of the only One

The gracefully impartial Lord even in all the respects seeming none the kindest 
For the glory of the only 
The absolutely and indisputably, the irrevocably and unfathomably Great One 
The One great and just God 
Because I am sick of the alternative 
Satan tailored for me to wear 
And I am sick of the reflection of perfection 
I can no longer even kid myself with a clearance sale
Because the suit I wear is a custom-made clown costume 
Unsuspecting me 
Oh, silly, unsuspecting me!

I have given you the key 
Behind the veneer 
Behind the smile, behind the torment 
Behind the pride, behind the heartache 
Behind wickedness 
I ask are you done? 
Christ asks you are you done? 
Get in! 
Rush to claw to grab to climb to drive!

Never to receive rags of fine linen 
Come in now, immediately, and open! 
Time will pour out in a gust of wind that falls down a trail to nowhere 
And you will be eternally indistinguishable in a pool of darkness 
Returned to your master and 
For the wedding occasion

Yourself to blame you for mediocrity 
Behold something other than self-importance! 
You do not slam your pom-poms on the silent show 
Don't you do that 
The minuscule, mangled dance 
That you do not even qualify as 

Apparently, for the mediocre qualifier you have yourself 
Without Christ to blame

Under the place hidden 
Because, oh, with Christ, with the very thing of the everything Christ 
Nothing, yes, nothing, nothing at all! 

To blame you have yourself for 
Why, with the everything Christ 
You do not blame yourself 
You blame a blameless one! 
 And thus is swept the dust that collects 
And finally it is rid with, good riddance! 
In good sound and mind

In the everything Christ 
To bend the flaw aright 
Thank God, you can actually say good riddance! 
You can say good riddance! 
God in Christ bent the flaw aright

God bent the flaw aright.

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

The Adventures of Jesus Christ and the Sword of Conflict.

When Jesus said ‘I did not come to bring peace but a sword’ he was telling the world that conflict is the price of truth. That the world would take up arms against him, his people and his message. We see this culminating in the events of the last century and this century. The Earth has now become a battleground, and it is precisely because this world is not the abode of truth and the resultant turmoil we see is the battle between good and evil, between the truth and lies, which will never settle into each other to develop into harmony, ying can never resolve into yang in harmony, but only to conflict, continual and all consuming. Good and evil are mutually exclusive, ‘the light shines in the darkness and the darkness comprehendeth it not.”

We are on the verge of a huge world war which has been carefully arranged, just as the previous two world wars were carefully tended and grown by the international bankers who ensured that Nazi German had all the funding she required to build up her colossal war machine. The same agents also funded the Soviet Union which was bankrupt and impoverished after her disastrous role in world war one and the 1917 revolution, and millions of dollars of funds were made available to ensure that Stalin’s radical five year plans of industrialization and mechanization, bore the fruit of creating a suitably armed belligerent to aid in the destruction of the Christian world.

And now we live in a world which is on the verge of being torn into pieces again. Yet this time who knows what will remain once the dust and bombs have settled. The first world war left shattered churches in broken towns in Northern France, churned up fields, and a mortal moral wound in the heart of the Christian world from which it has never recovered. The great unspoken thought was that if a Christian people could murder each other on an industrial scale with all the genius of their science turned to making machines and substances designed to rip up and ruin human bodies, then maybe the Christian programme hasn’t worked.

The second world war was merely the end of the long 1918 ceasefire and again all of the malicious genius of science after being given many long years of apparent peace to perfect the art of murder, used its genius to murder on a mass scale, culminating in the nuclear destruction of two Japanese cities. 

The Dominoes, Ready to Fall, All Lined-Up by the Hidden Hand.

And now, as of the time of writing and indeed, perhaps for about the past five years, we seem to have entered a final phase for the civilized world, a phase where all the dominoes are now in place, conveniently aligned, entwined and positioned so that the right pleasure applied to the right domino, will set all the pieces tumbling upon each other. While one group remains aloof from the cascading chaos: those who push the domino. They get to observe and watch their handiwork from a vantage point of perfect safety. They are not in amongst the dominoes, they will not fight, or be bombed, except those pawn sacrifices from their group they have decided to use for such a purpose to further their goals and they, like the banker, always win. 

But the true creators of war and conflict are above and beyond the chaos they create. They are the ones who have worked so hard to put all the dominoes in position in order that they might fall all the better, that the least pressure be enough to totally flatten the whole world.

This is because the group setting up the dominoes and preparing to push them all over is at war with Christ and has been trying to kill and persecute Christians and Christian civilisation from the first day of their appearance on Earth, just as they persecuted and had Jesus Christ himself murdered. It is the same people dragging the world to war as those who killed Christ.

We live in a world dominated by the sword. Christ brought the truth to the world for the first time. We now have the word of God and the choice to listen to his voice through the ministry of Jesus, or to ignore that message. 

Unfortunately even the existence of that choice and the presence of the truth of the presence of God, is too much for some people to bear, and they have made it their role, to do what they can to destroy the presence of God and all knowledge of God’s word, even if it means destroying the Earth and all its people.

In the next world there is the eternal turmoil of judgement, which means the transmutation of souls to the next dimension, either into the light, where ‘the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their father’ or ‘into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.’

It is perhaps for this reason, to tackle this potentially inconvenient truth about this world being a crossroads into the next world and our inclinations, inner desires and actions determining which path we take, that the scientific and media consensus is that the next world doesn’t exist and that this world is not in any sense a crossroads but a cul de sac.

If we can imagine that in the next world our physical body no longer exists, and all we are is the inner being, then all superficial charm and outward personality, have no value and no substance and all that would be left would be the inner desires and inclinations, whatever they may be.

It is often the case that people erect a façade and construct a ‘personality’ with which they negotiate with the physical world.
This personality often bears a vast difference between the inner reality of the person and the outward projection so carefully crafted.

Unfortunately superficial charm and the crafted personality façade are highly prized on this planet and in many fields are indispensable to success and the ability to rise to a position of controlling influence. 
Such people by their nature and ability to maintain a steady and reliable personality façade at any time, become highly successful in the media and entertainment and from there, they are able to directly exert a controlling cultural influence over other people.

These cultural figures become mental and cognitive leaders for the people under their influence and their beliefs and values soon become shared by the greater population who no longer think for themselves but absorb the ideas and suggestions of their cultural leaders, whose ideas and beliefs they adopt, under the influence of their superficial charm and their constructed personality.

One often finds the most vociferous voices in the media and science extolling atheism, are those very people who might have something to feel guilty about. For instance both Stephen Fry and Richard Dawkins are atheists who seem to have a very ambiguous position on paedophilia. And so to negate any sense of judgement and to evade the idea that they may be responsible for some immorality they conveniently relegate all such ideas of morality, responsibility, judgement, and even of good and evil itself, to non-existence.

In this way, atheism is a new kind of deception and a very easy way for evil people, or at least, people who have committed some evil, to feel that they can elude any consequences. Of course, the consequences cannot be avoided because you may think you can rewrite the rules of reality, but no doubt such thinking is convenient for these people during their earthly lives, but such thinking often creates attendant problems such as depression, bi-polar disorder, drug abuse and alcoholism, because these people are not dealing with truth and are willfully evading it, the result is discord, depression and a life of confusion where they search for meaning which they have willfully obliterated.

Only Jesus can save such people, but they are so oppressed by their own guilt and that attendant guilt is used to construct the artifice of their atheism, that they have too much personally invested to abandon it to Jesus, besides, such people also, much to their detriment, have built up such a level of adulation, professional respect and kudos that they probably start to believe their own bullshit, since everyone else seems to. It must be a very difficult temptation to resist, to join the mass of the public and believe in the consensual illusion about the grandeur of your own public image.

These are the values stitched into the culture and the people exposed to that culture through the media. The only way to be mentally free from the conditioning is to leave the country and spend several years in an alternative culture, preferably one which has some value and appeal to you, in order to break the conditioning of ones native culture and learn to transcend such conceited television boobies as Stephen Fry. Once one has removed oneself to a suitable vantage point, perhaps just across the English Channel, or some thousands of miles away near the Saharan desert, such people reveal themselves to be nothing but paltry and conceited fools, and merely local phenomena, having nothing of the real wisdom of universality which one can only learn and acquire through extensive travel.

There are other ways to ensure one is not taken-in by the deadly nefarious combination of the TV alpha trance and the charming air of wit and authority which these media demagogues use to spread their own particular values, or lack of them, but they most certainly involve throwing away the television and disdaining any form of mainstream entertainment, but it is very difficult for anyone to truly live in a vacuum within a society, such people soon become seen as eccentrics, or they just don't seem to fit in with other people; not sharing cultural and social cues which people use to build and maintain friendships.

Indeed there was much work undertaken by the Conservative government of the early nineties to expressly ensure that no one had the opportunity to access any alternative lifestyle by the express use of law to shut down alternative ways of living such as that hitherto enjoyed by the travelling community. Such people were a direct threat to the cultural dominance now enjoyed by ‘their’ media and now we all obediently go to work and come home to switch on our TV sets to receive our evening dose of mind and thought control, and cultural conditioning. What’s more we pay a license fee for the privilege, it is all rather too absurd and such absurdities only become apparent once one has achieved the level of ‘perspective’ which travel, free thinking, and throwing away your TV, will bring.

Had Jesus never had his ministry and had his message never advanced like a righteous tempest through the Roman Empire the world would probably be at a kind of peace right now. The kind of peace where there is no conflict and no right and wrong. Where every child must submit to a sexual initiation in midnight wood with a strange man dressed up as a goat. The kind of world where a slave class made up of half of the world would exist, who would be literally owned by the local aristocracy and forced to wear chains around their feet. Conflict is a sign that there's still something left to fight for and the turmoil of this world shows us that they are still waging war on us because we are not yet completely under their control.

Conflict only comes because there is dispute but imagine a world, like that of the Greeks or Romans, were there was no such strongly sense of entrenched morality which Christianity has brought.

No idea of freedom, no idea of personal rights. Where a child for instance, can be sexually abused by an older man, not only with impunity but as a cultural expectation. Where madness and hysteria were part not only of the religious life and spiritual rites, but often also fully expressed in the most powerful rulers of the land, men who ruled a huge empire spanning thousands of miles and scores of languages and cultures, were completely mad.

Some writers have posited something called ‘Roman Emperor’ syndrome and explained the madness of several of the most famous Roman Emperors as a direct result of being emperor, that absolute power corrupts absolutely and that few men can remain sane given enough power. But what if somehow the Roman Emperors were offered the same deal that Jesus was offered, dominion over the kingdoms of the land if only he bowed to Satan, except that those who became Emperors were those who unlike Jesus, had accepted Satan's offer.

Perhaps Jesus too could have been something resembling a Roman Emperor, since one man is much like another, there seems to me to be little particularly remarkable about the type of men who rise to positions of great power, except for symptoms of madness and sometimes, something like a messianic zeal.

The Messiah who said YES to Satan.

Hitler himself, saw himself in Messianic terms, and he too was once nothing but a second rate painter (who seemed to have a problem mastering perspective), an occasional homosexual and later, injured army corporal. But someone or something singled him out for greatness and temporary dominion. Something made a deal with him which he accepted.

Hitler: A slight problem of perspective. 

What happened to Jesus is a perfect representation of the true nature of our world. It is a world which does not want to know or hear the truth. It is a world ruled by Satan and the easy self deception of people who will do the myriad small crimes required to maintain his dark kingdom on Earth, if only for a quiet comfortable life. But the world has been judged and found wanting and Jesus, the only righteous man to ever walk the Earth, was rejected by the Earth itself.

“Now is the judgement of this world, now shall the ruler of this world be cast out; and I, when I am lifted up from the Earth, will draw all men to myself.”

We as a species, in the majority, seem to have this fatal flaw in our psychological makeup. This is only to apparent by the fact that people still engage with modern democracy, still work their jobs, pay their taxes and have children, when it is a known fact that politicians lie to us. We vote for them again and again, as long as their lies are not too obvious and are relatively well dissimulated. The populace will vote for a liar, but not for an obvious one which would reflect badly on their own confidence in him or her.

But we love lies and deception, fraud and fakery, because it is easier to believe in a lie and know it’s a lie, than to face the truth and risk being exposed by its light.
And so humanity has learned to advance forward under the comforting shadow of reassuring lies they have learned to live with. The sure knowledge that whoever they vote into power will just continue the steady decline we all know has set-in, is preferable to being exposed to their own power and ability to take the reins of power and control their own destinies. 

Most people don’t want that because they just wouldn’t know where to begin. Being told what to do and how to exist on planet Earth, even under a million obvious contradictions and blatant injustices, allows most people to avoid the sight of total reality, because humanity has little to no knowledge of any kind of absolute reality or total truth and is in no means equipped to operate under these parameters. Some people however are and they attempt to do so. And as Bill Hicks pointed out, we tend to kill those people, not only because they threaten the institutions and power structures in place, but also because they make the general populace feel mentally uncomfortable, since dealing with the truth suddenly after being habituated to the comforting delusion of falsehood is tantamount to putting people in a forced stress position.

Few people will tolerate such discomfort for long and will rise up as one to remove the source of their torment. And so what happened to Jesus wasn’t a particular indictment against the Jewish people in particular, but an indictment perhaps, of any people, when faced with a truth which threatens their whole way of life and their continued ability to maintain that way of life. Jesus, despite being greeted and acclaimed by crowds sometimes numbering in the thousands, was still at the mercy of people’s general wish to follow the path of least resistance.

However the Jews it seems have taken it upon themselves to wage a two thousand year war on their own Messiah and the savior of humanity. The man who told the truth and for that, he had to die. Traditionally civilisations have always felt more comfortable creating their own Gods and when given a vision of God which doesn’t accord with the vision of their creation, they reject it. The Gods which human have created have tended to be brutal, jealous, destructive and capricious figures. Figures which judged humanity but which gave the comfort of exhibiting characteristics understandable to human nature. For thousands of years man created God in his own image, while writing holy books which deny the fact completely and pretend that God created man in his image.

The truth which arrived with Jesus’ ministry was not that God had created man in his image, but more that man had lost sight of God entirely, and what was worse was that the image of God man had created was almost entirely erroneous. Mankind had completely misunderstood the nature of God. It is mankind that feels the need to create rules and order and control other people, not God and this was why Jesus was at pains to say ‘that the Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath.’

The God mankind had made celebrated war and massacre, of men, women and children alike. Whether the God or Gods of the Ancient Egyptians, the Greeks, The Germanic people, or the Jews. It is fair to say that none of these people had ever properly glimpsed the true nature of God, and if they did, then they scarcely publicized the fact.

The Buddha came close, but the impersonal nature of the universe from Buddha’s vision and his story of pain and suffering being the root of existence, seems to miss the flavor of the truth, and might be the kind of conclusions, a man who, once emerging from a strictly controlled environment of harmony and peace, and to leave that artificial illusory environment to see the real world for the first time and be suddenly struck with the brute force of those new impressions and the shattering of old lies and old illusions, which of course is precisely the story we are told about the Buddha. That he was a young prince, cossetted in his palace with the royal household in an artificial paradise beyond which he knew nothing else. Almost like the character from a Night Shyamalan film. The sudden loss of any sense of reality may indeed create the lasting impression that all is illusion indeed.

Jesus is the way the truth and the life and our suffering world of turmoil is because we are living in a spiritual war-zone. But the fact that they are still fighting to subjugate and control us, shows that we are still free and above all, we are free to find the truth of Jesus, but they have made the way very narrow indeed. Throwing away the TV might be the first step to accessing his Kingdom.

Thursday, 6 April 2017

The Crata Repoa and Plato's Haunted-House Funfair Adventure.

The Crata Repoa, written by Karl Fredderich Von Koppen and Johann Wilhelm Bernhard claims to detail the initiatory practices of the ancient Egyptians. Whether there is any truth as to whether this book really did detail the initiatory practices of the Ancient Egyptians must remain moot, however it is far more likely that it reflects more the general initiatory practices of the Freemasons who claim ancestry as far back as Ancient Egypt. 

This book’s purpose was to connect Freemasonry to Ancient Egypt for the purposes of providing a hitherto secret organization whose roots stretch back to Kabbalah practicing 11th Century Jews and Ismaili Hashashin, revealing itself to its particular public of royals, wealthy parvenus, and agitated revolutionaries, a sense of continuity, pedigree and even moral authority to their order. 

The cover image for the 18th Century French translation of the original German manuscript shows an image which might be familiar to fans of 21st Century pop music. 

It is doubtful that the Crata Repoa has any authenticity and is little more than an 18th century fantasy. Its descriptions of the Ancient Egyptian initiate being given a sword and a shield has rather too much of Teutonic Germanic romanticism or a hint of Spartan military to reflect the reality of the mystical purity of Ancient Egypt. Still, the descriptions are interesting in that they evoke what kind of fantasies might be enacted in the Masonic Lodge and the kinds of theatricalities which probably took place in the mysteries of Ancient Greece, with its initiations which have become the stuff of myth and legend with its labyrinths and descriptions of supernatural beasts. 

The first degree, strangely named ‘Christphoris’ or ‘Chris’ I suppose to his friends, describes the initiate being forgotten and left to his anger for 18 months, when he is suddenly taken up and delivered into a labyrinth and assailed by agents with terrifying masks and flaming torches in their hands, while screaming the word ‘Panis’ which again makes me think of the Greek mysteries and the cult of Pan, from which we have the word Panic, and initiations into his mysteries were probably a cross between The Skull and Bones society and a Club 18-30 holiday. 

The initiate tries to battle the hordes but is overpowered by the sheer number, after which he is blindfolded and a cord put around a neck like a yoke, as result of which he is brought to the ground. This is surely more an echo of the activity of the German Masonic lodge or even the Bavarian Illuminati than having anything of remote antiquity in it. After which there are more screams. He is then taken into the presence of a bright light in a richly decorated room and given a drugged beverage which he must empty to the dregs. 

He is then ordered by a King to go into a room nearby and chop the head off a person who is found there. When he gets into the room he finds a beautiful woman, what is apparently a puppet made of skins and inflated cushions, so well made it appears to be alive. He removes the head of the puppet or it may even be a living woman, who really knows with these people, and presents it to the king. 

He is then told that this is the head of the Gorgon (which symbolically represents his own ego and sense of self). In this story it is the Gorgon who is the wife of Typhon (Set) who was responsible for the death of Osiris. 

In the same volume I found a text called ‘The Initiation of Plato’ apparently written or compiled or who knows what, signed by Marconis de Negre. Jacques-Etienne Marconis de Negre was a Freemason born in 1795 and was the founder of the French rite of Memphis, an Egyptian rite of ‘invisible’ Freemasonry, or at least he put his name to it. 

On a similar level of banal idiocy is the Masonic tale of the Initiation of Plato. I am extremely surprised by this text. Surprised that the ancient mysterious initiation of Plato seemed to resemble a cross between a scene from an Indiana Jones movie and a ride on the fun fair ghost train. It is possible that the account in the text is entirely fabricated, in which case I am surprised that Manly P Hall was taken in by it, if indeed the account is accurate, then I am surprised by the nature of the ancient mysteries and how paltry they were and seemingly wholly lacking in any supernatural element which cannot be managed by men in funny costumes. 

Apparently Plato starts by entering a narrow path in a deep cave, which may be supposed to be the Great pyramid since his initiation is said to have taken place in Egypt. Though Ancient Egypt had no shortage of narrow paths and deep caves of various sorts so the initiation could have taken place anywhere, however there is a romantic notion that the initiation took place in the Great Pyramid and for such a personage as esteemed as Plato, no other venue would appear worthy. 

Now there is a possibility that the initiation took place as described, within the various complexes of the Giza plateau, but one would hope at least for decency’s sake that the mysterious majesty of the ruins of ancient Egypt which evoke such awe and evocative contemplation of time of grandeur and majesty which we can scarcely comprehend, were not so sullied as to have been the venue of what seems to be little more than some kind of dungeons and dragons fun-fair adventure game. 

Apart from looking deep within the Giza plateau for the much vaunted hall of records of the ages maybe they might one day also find a hall of mirrors, and a fossilized freak show. At least if the account is anything to go by. 

It is suggestive of the kind of activity which day trippers to Blackpool might have experienced in the heydays of the 50’s holiday seasons and the myriad entertainments devised for the working classes for a couple of old pennies. 

To continue the account, Plato moved a metal grill in order to enter another chamber, which closed after him. This was the cue for poor Plato to be assailed by the cast of the fun-fair haunted house and no sooner had he entered a second door, and with his flaming torch sees winged dragons, horrible scorpions, and even larvae. 

Then his light went out and he is plunged into darkness. Then a voice called down to Plato to ask him if he was scared yet, and Plato bravely said no. Shadows, scorpions and even larvae didn’t shake Plato, he wasn’t the type of chap to scare easily. He continued on his path and then saw a beautiful temple lit by lamps and a voice lectured him on some nebulous banalities about how the universal cause acts to one end by different laws, and how the whole world of nature and matter presses towards a common goal toward the general good. 

There can be no doubt that the text known as the Initiation of Plato is a fanciful recreation informed by the rituals and focus towards materialism and Neo Platonism of the 18th Century. There appears to be of little of interest in the dialogue between Plato and the unknown locutor of the mysteries, except the imparting of the idea that genius is born of the immortal spirit and is facet of the soul, and that divinity is the source of creative genius, and to become an angel one has to cease to be a man. 

The voice then asks him if he wants to go back, but our brave hero replies no, he is not afraid. He wasn’t shaken by larvae, nor was he frightened by interminably pretentious new-age discourse. So he continued until he came to a burning furnace which he could cross only by walking along a narrow metal grill, at then end of which apparently was a torrent of water which he could only cross by swimming. So basically it was a little bit like It’s a Knockout and We Are The Champions, if anyone remembers that show.

And the text rather feebly describes this as a double peril, a shuffle along a narrow metal causeway may be somewhat perilous but swimming? Perhaps swimming wasn’t really a thing back then, who knows, and perhaps one only experienced the idea of crossing water while physically moving parts of your body during secret ancient initiations. Maybe swimming itself is one of the great revelatory mysteries of the ancient world.

But the text tells us that the worse is yet to come. A stairway of a few steps led to a door of ivory, Plato crossed the threshold only to find the floor crumble under him, just like in the movies. After which huge metal wheels moved with great speed being pulled by great chains, again, just like in the movies. Then the neophyte is taken by a powerful arm and taken to a ruined chapel where fallen columns everywhere block his progress. 

A man with a severe countenance is sat at a table lit by a lamp who then instructs Plato to rummage amongst a bunch of ancient tombs full of dust and delivers a dreary discourse on how fleeting life is and how sad it is to be dead. Hardly the discourse of an enlightened spiritual master, much more likely the kind of sad and dreary materialistic nonsense which comes from our age and our learned fear of death. This is yet another reason to suppose that this text is in no way an authentically ancient account but something dreamed up in the 18th Century as it has all the materialistic and atheistic baggage of that age, when people abandoned the mysteries of spirit for the sureties of science, and we entered our present spiritual dark-age with its world wars and weekly atrocities delivered fresh to a work-sodden half living mass of humans who spend most of their time on the treadmill of doing and have forgotten their being. 

After which Plato is presented with a golden horn, and yet more wise old people take their cues in the scene and start yet more interminable dialogue about sublime architects of the universe, force, power beauty and proportion. Could there be any hell worse than discovering that God was indeed an architect and was fussily poring over blueprints and dangling plumb lines while peering disinterestedly at humanity over his eye-glasses? Only the Masons in their peculiar sado-masochism could invent such an appallingly degraded vision of God. How about going one further and saying God works for the council, or is the chair of the Chamber of Commerce? 

The three old men continue and slip into something like school masters, delivering lectures on topics as diverse as the elliptical nature of the orbit of the planets around the sun as well as the moons of Jupiter. The moons of Jupiter were first observed by Galileo in the 17th Century and prove beyond doubt the dubious nature of this account. 

It is particularly interesting that this account was written by a very high level French Freemason who is one of the major figureheads of European Esoteric Freemasonry which went on to influence American Freemasonry. Since he was so able and willing to pass fantasy fictions of as secret historical esoteria how much more of Freemasonry is nothing but fanciful deception and, to be blunt, bullshit. 

Plato’s haunted house fun-fair adventure culminates, as with the previous Ancient Egyptian Initiation, with Plato being ordered to decapitate what the text says is a puppet made so cunningly of skin and inflated bladders, so as to appear lifelike. This is highly suggestive and disturbing. What would be the purpose behind decapitating what appears to be a human body if it were just a cunningly designed dummy? Aside from the suggestion that the head represents ego, what purpose would removing the head from a puppet’s body serve, particularly since it seems to be the culmination of what prior to this has after all, only been, old men reading university lectures by flickering candle light and the odd guy wearing a scary mask. 

The Initiation only really makes sense as being a profound, disturbing and transformative ceremony, about which the initiate is sworn to secrecy, if the murder were in fact real or at the very least, the initiate was led to believe it was. But how does one make skin and inflated pigs bladders appear lifelike? Such an appearance would most likely make a mockery of the ceremony in the initiate's eyes and reduce what already seems a ghost train farce to a pantomime. What ethical scruple would there be to prevent the architects of the mysteries from using a real person, likely someone who was drugged and would not be missed? Someone from the streets or even from another district. 

We can assume that the authors of the mysteries are the very people who rule our world and have always done so, have they ever shied away from bloodletting? Have they ever shown themselves unwilling to commit atrocities and butcher people? Of course not, history is an endless red sea of blood and the greater the human development the better the means the rulers of the world have to extract more and more blood and kill more and more people. In fact to an outside observer from a benign and civilized race from a distant star, they might observe that this seems to be the most pronounced activity and chief legacy of this human race. Bloodletting on an industrial scale. 

For this reason I am ready to assume that the ancient mysteries and Freemasonry did and does in fact involve the murder of an unfortunate victim. This could have been useful as a way in which the cults removed their enemies, while simultaneously being a test of the initiate's devotion to the cause and additionally, making him complicit in the crime and forever knitted to the order by his crime and the possible use of threats of blackmail of the unmasking of his crime, since it was he and he alone who committed the deed, despite doing it under instruction. This is exactly how the modern black street gang initiations unfold. In fact the initiate may well be told that the figure is a dummy and that the verisimilitude to a living person is all the skill of the art of the mystery school. 

But it is clear that the possibility of using a living victim renders so many more useful possibilities to the group and knowing how easily states and religions spill blood there is no reason to assume that a secret organization which is the very essence and distillation of the power of the state political group and the state religion, would hold back under cover of darkness. It is far more likely that here they would abandon themselves to every excess they consider useful to their aims. Furthermore, and perhaps even more crucially might be the working on the mind of the initiate of his guilt at having murdered someone in cold blood for no motive.

My point behind all this is that until very recent times, Freemasonry was nothing but a society dealing with ridiculous mythological enactments and fancy dress costumes, with the possible hint of danger with some kind of ritual murder which may or may not be anything worse than bursting a pig's bladder made to resemble a human head.

However what we have within Freemasonry now is of a very different complexion to those early fools. It was probably someone like Aleister Crowley who decided that the rituals were so much more effective and the Gods all the better invoked if real murders took place...

Friday, 31 March 2017

The Delusion of Electronic Harassment!

The Ordeal of Evelyn Waugh.

In 1957 Evelyn Waugh published a novella The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold, In it he details his experience of the descent into drug induced psychosis and madness which takes place whilst on-board a long boat journey to Ceylon which he takes to return to health and break an apparently long period of writer’s block.

The following is an account from Wikipedia for the sake of convenience:

Early in 1954, Waugh's doctors, concerned by his physical deterioration, advised a change of scene. On 29 January, he took a ship bound for Ceylon, hoping that he would be able to finish his novel. Within a few days, he was writing home complaining of "other passengers whispering about me" and of hearing voices, including that of his recent BBC interlocutor, Stephen Black. He left the ship in Egypt and flew on to Colombo, but, he wrote to Laura, the voices followed him.[146] Alarmed, Laura sought help from her friend, Frances Donaldson, whose husband agreed to fly out to Ceylon and bring Waugh home. In fact, Waugh made his own way back, now believing that he was being possessed by devils. A brief medical examination indicated that Waugh was suffering from bromide poisoning from his drugs regimen. When his medication was changed, the voices and the other hallucinations quickly disappeared.[147] Waugh was delighted, informing all of his friends that he had been mad: "Clean off my onion!". The experience was fictionalised a few years later, in The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold (1957).[148]

The story can be read here, and I can strongly recommend it. It isn’t too long and it gives a fascinating first hand account
 of the kind of thing those suffering from electronic harassment report and we can use this text which is composed in a methodical manner, as a valuable resource to identify the purpose and nature of these auditory hallucinations.

What is striking is the apparent intelligence behind these voices and the fact that they seem to operate from a different consciousness to that of Waugh’s own. It is therefore my belief that Waugh inadvertently, due to the use of several hypnotic and sedative drugs in combination, literally established contact with another non corporeal form of consciousness, commonly these are termed ‘demons’ due to their antagonism to human beings.

At this point in his life Evelyn Waugh had become very unhealthy and was experiencing problems sleeping and had become largely dependent on various prescribed chemicals. We are told that the character of Pinfold, as well as being prescribed some unidentified grey pills, was also taking chloral and bromide of potassium as a sedative and aid to sleep.

In order to discover more about these particular drugs. I did a rudimentary Google search and found the following from Daily Alta California dated Monday 22nd December 1884. This is period of time which significantly predates Waugh’s/Pinfold’s experiences, but gives an idea of the type of effect which may be expected from the ingestion of such drugs, particularly in combination with the unnamed grey pills. It is revealed at the end of the story that Pinfold’s/Waugh’s experiences are a result of combining the medication and not telling his doctor.
Chloral and Bromide of Potassium.
(From the London Lancet.)
Again we have to record with deep regret a sad proof that those who give or take chloral or bromide of potassium for sleeplessness are guilty of a deplorable error and do a grievous wrong. The narcotics which poison sleep also deprave the higher nerve centers, enfeeble the controlling powers of the will and leave the mind a prey to the depressing influence of a conscious loss of self respect and self-confidence. The cultured mind feels the ignominy of the intellectual and moral depreciation with great acuteness, and in the end succumbs to the sense of powerlessness to recover self-control and do right. The deprivation wrought is purely physical. The baneful influence of the lethal drug is, so to say, organic. The essential elements of the nerve tissues are blighted by the stupifying poison, as by alcohol in habitual drunkenness. In short, the recourse to chloral and bromide is precisely the same thing as recourse to alcohol. The man or woman sent to "sleep" — the mocking semblance of physiological rest — by a dose of either of these neurotizers is simply intoxicated. No wonder that habitual drunkenness of this class first impairs and then destroys the vitality of the mind organ, and places the subject of a miserable artifice at the mercy of his emotioned nature, and makes him the creature of his passions. When will the public awake to the recognition of facts with regard to these most pernicious of stupefacients? Persistence in recourse to them has no better excuse than unwillingness to search out the cause of the wakefulness which prevents natural sleep.

Pinfold’s symptoms take the form of auditory hallucinations. There are no visual hallucinations mentioned in the story and apart from his general poor health and hearing voices, Pinfold showed no other signs of mental illness. His delusions are focused around the use of various forms of technology being used to harass him and this delusion has its origins in two principal events which seem to have disturbed him somewhat prior to embarking on the sea voyage. One was what he considered a somewhat personally invasive and ill tempered radio interview he gave to the BBC at his home and the other was a strange pseudo scientific apparatus which seems to have had more in common with the occult than post-war technology.

Waugh writing about the BBC interview stated :"they tried to make a fool of me, and I don't think they entirely succeeded", while Peter Fleming of the Spectator described the interview as "the goading of a bull by matadors".

We do not know whether the strange occult box was a real element in Waugh’s experience, nevertheless he describes it in the following terms:

This Box was one of many operating in various parts of the country. It was installed, under the skeptical noses of Reginald Graves-Upton’s nephew and niece, at Upper Mewling. Mrs. Pinfold, who had been taken to see it, said it looked like a makeshift wireless-set. According to the Bruiser and other devotees The Box exercised diagnostic and therapeutic powers. Some part of a sick man or animal—a hair, a drop of blood preferably—was brought to The Box, whose guardian would then “tune in” to the “life-waves” of the patient, discern the origin of the malady and prescribe treatment.

Pinfold seems to have been receptive to the unusual ability of the magic-box to help and heal sickness but added that the device would be “An extremely dangerous device in the wrong hands,” and his weariness and credence in the possibility of such ‘technology’ having some effect is shown by his reluctance to tell his neighbor that he was ill for fear that he would use the box on him. This is a core theme of the story, and for me encapsulates the present issue within the conspiracy and truther community of supposed electronic harassment, which I believe is the error of giving an occult and spiritual phenomenon, the appearance of a technological one. 

This is kind of a sad symptom of human beings living in a world of technology they do not really understand and whose limits they have no way of measuring. If a man as astute and educated as Evelyn Waugh can have led himself to believe that his experiences on board the boat where caused by various disreputable people having access to exotic technology then it is all the more difficult for the rest of us, especially as we live in an age when such things are almost within the range of technological possibility. However, we have the example of Evelyn Waugh and his story ought to help clear up some of the misunderstandings of our present age, and it is my certain conviction that those misunderstanding and those who are promulgating them are doing a very great deal of harm. 

People such as Miles Johnson, UFO researcher also appeared on the Coast to Coast show a couple of years ago spreading more harmful delusions such as the idea that the electric power supply of a residential property can be used to mind control people and that the new energy saving light bulbs can also be used in mind control. The point is once you believe that your mind can be accessed by remote technology and you can do nothing about it then you are already under mind control. This idea IS the mind control and all of these people are perpetuating this like a deadly disease. He even claims that some people are being mind controlled by their radiators. This is a straight up schizophrenic delusion, the danger is when these ideas are presented on a national radio broadcast with a respected broadcaster like George Noory. This man is also perpetuating the myth of gray aliens as being behind this. These delusions are taken seriously and they reproduce in the minds of the listener. Miles Johnson also appears to be a friend of meddler and ruiner of many of the areas of UK activism, Belinda Mckenzie, a woman who seems to have had the strange power to ruin every activism movement she has forced her way into, and was apparently involving herself ‘in the background’ of the electronic harassment area.

Basically these people are really no help to anyone trying to do serious research into the Illuminati since these people have already been sucked into Cain Consciousness and seem intent on spreading the dangerous mind-virus of the harmful delusion of electronic mind control.

It is also worth noting that the murdered British truth-seeker Max Spiers was a friend of Miles Johnson, and by extension probably Belinda McKenzie as well. I would consider therefore that the man whether knowingly or unknowingly was walking hand in hand with the security services and occult practitioners and came to grief as a result of not being more assiduous to the company he kept.

Possibly Miles Johnston is just an honest mad man and does not have any sinister connections to the security services, but I personally do not know how anyone can know Belinda McKenzie and not know she is a spook. Miles Johnston at one point skirts teasingly at self awareness with Occam's Razor only for a nanosecond and almost shaves himself loose of some nonsense when he says:

What they’re doing is saying it’s a bad bulb so they’ve been able to use that excuse, and it’s a fairly good excuse it’s a good point, it makes sense…because noone would ever consider that they would use the light bulb as a means of optically transmitting pulsed frequencies into your brain for nefarious purposes, who would ever thing of a thing like that? But the point is that’s what they’re doing.

I’m not quite sure how anyone can send mind control signals optically into someone’s brain and I don’t think Miles does.

Indeed, at one point in The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold, Pinfold even believes the voices are coming to him from an electric light:

Mr. Pinfold was hungry. He ordered coffee and fish and eggs and fruit. He was about to eat when, ping; the little, rose-shaded electric lamp which stood on the table before him came into action as a transmitter. The delinquent youths were awake and up on the air again, their vitality unimpaired by the excesses of the night. “Halloo-loo-loo-loo-loo. Hark-ark-ark-ark-ark,” they hallooed. “Loo in there. Fetch him out. Yoicks."
They began to give instructions for a place of meeting. “… D Deck, turn right. Got that? You’ll see some lockers. The next bulk-head. We’re waiting for you. Better come now and get it over. You’ve got to meet us some time, you know. We’ve got you, Gilbert. We’ve got you. There’s no escape. Better get it over…” Mr. Pinfold’s patience was exhausted. He must put a stop to this nonsense. Recalling some vague memories of signal procedure in the army, he drew the lamp towards him and spoke into it curtly: “Pinfold to Hooligans. Rendezvous Main Lounge 0930 hours. Out.” The lamp was not designed to be moved. His pull disconnected it in some way. The bulb went out and the voices abruptly ceased. At the same moment Glover came in to breakfast. “Hullo, something gone wrong with the light?”

Miles Johnston perhaps, is a man caught in his own ordeal, and like Gilbert Pinfold, is entirely mistaken about the source of the voices and comically fretting over light bulbs and electric lines as being a way for the voices to transmit and harass people. However Miles goes much further than Pinfold in some of his conclusions and one suspects his ordeal has lasted rather too long and the psychological damage may be irreparable at this stage since some of his conclusions seem not to have any grounding in any reality I can recognise:

They want this physical world and all its related kingdoms. Let’s make it absolutely clear, once the holographic focus of our so called holographic reality that we consider to exist…some people call it the holographic universe, if you change that focus so another form of life can physically manifest itself all forms of life which are connected to the original holographic focus will simply disappear into nothing. So this affects everything we know that is physical including all those other realms which exist in the sub-sets of that focus, some people would call it other dimensions, some people would call it the next world or whatever, all elements connected to that are at risk if this is allowed to continue…

Frankly what he is saying is not merely bad science but bad everything. Through a lack of self awareness and inability to genuinely face reality Miles has lost himself in wild chaotic seas of unreality. I honestly think Noory doesn’t really do his listenership any favours to take all this on board completely uncritically.

Much easier to say it’s the Jewish bankers working with Satan if you ask me, but perhaps that why these people are blathering on about holographic focus, grey aliens talking to you though your lightbulb, because it keeps people from thinking about fractional banking, Israel and the Freemasons.

Project Camelot, Simon Parks, all seem to be members of some kind of schizophrenic mutual support group and their delusions are wildly allowed full reign of expression much to the detriment of anyone trying to do real research.

Miles ends his interview with George Noory realizing he can pretty much say anything he likes at this point and Noory will just make an affirmative noise and wag his tail.

He could have ended the interview by saying the Moon is artificial and full of aliens, but someone else got there first with that delusion.

“,…., they are planning to LITERALLY to replace human beings as computer programmes and license those computer programmes as valid human beings.”


The electronic nature of Pinfold’s harassment is first suggested to him by the things he noticed in his cabin:

The ceiling, at which Mr. Pinfold gazed, was spanned as though by a cottage beam by a white studded air-shaft and by a multiplicity of pipes and electric cable.” Along with what is described as “the continuous insect-hum of the ventilator.

Another area in this field is the so called ‘electronic voice’ phenomenon. This has led some very foolish people into seeking to open up contact with some discarnate beings which they possibly consider to be aliens or at least, ‘spiritual’. What is said to be necessary in order to open up contact is some kind of continuous background noise along which the discarnate voice can propagate itself and many people have done this in the naïve idea that they will be able to contact some kind of benign superior intelligence. In any case the intelligences are never benign and they soon come to completely dominate the lives of their poor victims.

As in the case of the electronic voice phenomenon, in Waugh’s account, it seems that the existence of It a background sound seems to act as a kind of propagation wave to the sounds of the hallucination.

…on reaching his cabin, he found added to its other noises the strains of a jazz band. Mr. Pinfold stood puzzled.

The sound of a jazz band is his first auditory hallucination and initially he believes it to be a gramophone record but later he finds that whatever the music is, it is live. In his cabin he picks up a book and tried to read, then apparently from the cabin below he hears a group of what he calls ‘bright young things’.

“Let’s try the Pocoputa Indian one,” said the young man who acted, without any great air of authority, as leader. “Oh not that. It’s so beastly,” said a girl. “I know,” said the leader. “It’s the three-eight rhythm. The Gestapo discovered it independently, you know. They used to play it in the cells. It drove the prisoners mad.” “Yes,” said another girl. “Thirty-six hours did for anyone. Twelve was enough for most. They could stand any torture but that.” “It drove them absolutely mad.” “Raving mad.” “Stark, staring mad.” “It was the worst torture of all.” “The Russians use it now.” The voices, some male, some female, all young and eager, came tumbling like puppies. “The Hungarians do it best.” “Good old three-eight.” “Good old Pocoputa Indians.” “They were mad.”

Pinfold then comes to the conclusion that what he is hearing must be a result of some kind of quirk of technology and his erroneous conclusion in this instance will be almost entirely echoed by the electronic harassment people.

For a long time, two hours perhaps, Mr. Pinfold lay in his bunk listening. He was able to hear quite distinctly not only what was said in his immediate vicinity, but elsewhere. He had the light on, now, in his cabin, and as he gazed at the complex of tubes and wires which ran across his ceiling, he realized that they must form some kind of general junction in the system of communication. Through some trick or fault or wartime survival everything spoken in the executive quarters of the ship was transmitted to him….That alone could explain the voices which now kept him informed of every stage of the incident.

All of this was an hallucination but at the time he didn’t know this. At the end of the book Waugh/Pinfold is told by his doctor that his mind had created all of this, but what would be the purpose of a mind deciding to torment itself and explicitly attempt to drive itself insane.

Later in the book he has established a two way form of mental communication:

"You’re driving me mad.” “No, no, Gilbert, you are mad already,” said the duty-officer. “We’re driving you insane.”

Now he was struck with real fear, something totally different from the superficial alarms he had once or twice known in moments of danger, something he had quite often read about and dismissed as over-writing. He was possessed from outside himself with atavistic panic. “O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven,” he cried.
And in that moment of agony there broke not far from him in the darkness peal upon rising peal of mocking laughter—Goneril’s, It was not an emollient sound. It was devoid of mirth, an obscene cacophony of pure hatred. But it fell on Mr. Pinfold’s ears at that moment like a nursery lullaby. “A hoax,” he said to himself. It was all a hoax on the part of the hooligans. He understood all. They had learned the secret of the defective wiring in his cabin. Somehow they had devised a means of controlling it, somehow they had staged this whole charade to tease him. It was spiteful and offensive, no doubt; it must not happen again. But Mr. Pinfold felt nothing but gratitude in his discovery. He might be unpopular; he might be ridiculous; but he was not mad.

Evelyn Waugh in the guise of Gilbert Pinfold, had failed to face reality at a critical juncture. Rather than face the possibility of being what he termed ‘mad’ he continued to support the improbably fantasy that some quirk of the ship’s electrics was allowing all of these unseen characters to communicate with him. But at the stage at which he starts directly communicating with these unseen voices there is an obvious question:

Then he pondered the new problem: how had Margaret heard his soundless words? That could not be explained on any theory of frayed and crossed wires. As he considered the matter Margaret briefly returned to say: “Not wires, darling. Wireless,” and then was gone again. That perhaps should have given him the clue he sought; should have dispelled the mystery that enveloped him. He would learn in good time; at that moment Mr. Pinfold was baffled, almost stupefied, by the occurrences of the morning and he went down to luncheon at the summons of the gong thinking vaguely in terms of telepathy, a subject on which he was ill-informed.

And ‘ill informed’ very aptly describes the growing legion of those being harassed by demonic voices in the real world at this time, and futilely misconstruing their experiences as being some kind of technology the rudiments about which they think they grasp bit like Pinfold, they are amateurs confusing themselves with half baked pseudo scientific ideas.

This tragic evasion from reality into a retreat of ready made delusion is nowhere more explicit than in parts of the homosexual community in parts of California who lately are reporting significant instances of ‘electronic harassment’.

There was a recent TV report on KMIR News which details the creation of a local community group of members reporting electronic harassment and gang stalking.

The report focuses on three Valley residents who have reported hearing voices uttering derogatory sentences. Kevin Bond, moved to Palm Springs to escape from the gang stalking and another man, Bob Stansfield was a victim of vehicular stalking. All three of these gentlemen, as well as suffering from what they call electronic harassment are also homosexual which is often a sexual developmental abnormality as a result of child abuse. The gentlemen have also created a website and have paid for billboards to be displayed in their area. In a typically American display of poor sense and intellectual impotence such a thing as a ‘Freedom House’ and the organisation Freedom from Covert and Electronic Harassment. Derrick Robinson. and another website which will only serve unfortunately to more deeply ingrain this electronic harassment Palm Springs resident believes he is being targeted because he is gay and for me this confirms my analysis perfectly that statistically most homosexuals were sexually abused as children and that child sexual abuse is the primary cause of the onset of schizophrenia. So this man has become schizophrenic, since hearing voices is by definition, a symptom of schizophrenia and is very much

Sadly this story is symptomatic of most people's, and particularly Americans' lack of good sense and their inability of self reflection and objective reality. It is much more comforting for a man who was abused a child to tell himself that the abuse was beneficial and reciprocal, and many gay men who have spoken on this subject such as Stephen Fry and Milo Yiannopoulos all appear to have constructed the same edifice of emotional self defence. Likewise if the mind is so used to the art of self delusion then how much easier it is to tell yourself that your schizophrenia is really a covert attack on you by some government agency merely because you are gay. The Gay lobby see themselves as eternal victims despite now having far more rights than heterosexual Christians, but this sense of victim-hood is a key element of a mind dealing with fear, paranoia and mental illness. From this I would suggest that mental illness is far more common in homosexuals than non-homosexuals. For me the tell-tale signs of a sense of victimhood, in whatever political domain, tell me that we are dealing with a broken disempowered mind. I wonder too, what percentage of feminists with their eternal media howling about their victimhood are also literally schizophrenic or at least dealing with bi-polar symptoms and pre-schizophrenia symptoms such as anxiety and panic-attacks.

Derrick Robinson also featured on Coast to Coast. He was in the US NAVY Naval Air Station and said he was targeted in the 80s with organized stalking. George Noory asks Derrick Robinson if he ever doubted himself and he answers that he didn’t, because he believed that this kind of technology was well within the technological abilities of the US Navy. This is the critical problem of a lack of self reflection. One should always have the humility and self awareness to ask ‘what if I’m wrong?’ even if you don’t think you are. At least the cognitive experiment in alternative views might provide some new insights and clarity about one’s problems. 

One of the biggest question people ask is ‘why am I being targeted?’ again, with a simple dose of self reflection the answer is simple, you are not being targeted, you are mentally ill. Derrick Robinson is also a homosexual. The interview becomes a little sad, almost pathetic in the sense that the irony and pathos comes on pretty thick when Derrick claims that many people are in ‘denial’ about their experience of electronic harassment. The irony of course is that the only denial is that these people will not face the reality that they are mentally ill.

The final delusion which Waugh/Pinfold constructs for himself to avoid the reality that he is mentally ill and his problems have a different cause, is eerily similar to the modern delusion the electronic harassment people have created amongst themselves:

Do you remember the tick with a beard who came to Lychpole from the B.B.C. He is on board with a team bound for Aden. They are going to make recordings of Arab dance music. The tick is called Angel. He has shaved his beard. That is why I didn’t spot him at first. He has some of his family with him—rather a nice sister—travelling I suppose for pleasure. They seem to be cousins of a lot of our neighbors. You might inquire. These B.B.C. people have made themselves a great nuisance to me on board. They have got a lot of apparatus with them, most of it new and experimental. They have something which is really a glorified form of Reggie Upton’s Box. I shall never laugh at the poor Bruiser again. There is a great deal in it. More in fact than he imagines. Angel’s Box is able to speak and to hear. In fact I spend most of my days and nights carrying on conversations with people I never see. They are trying to psycho-analyze me. I know this sounds absurd. The Germans at the end of the war were developing this Box for the examination of prisoners. The Russians have perfected it. They don’t need any of the old physical means of persuasion. They can see into the minds of the most obdurate. The Existentialists in Paris first started using it for psycho-analyzing people who would not voluntarily submit to treatment.
They first break the patient’s nerve by acting all sorts of violent scenes which he thinks are really happening. They confuse him until he doesn’t distinguish between natural sounds and those they induce. They make all kinds of preposterous accusations against him. Then when they get him in a receptive mood they start on their psycho-analysis. As you can imagine it’s a hellish invention in the wrong hands. Angel’s are very much the wrong hands. He’s an amateur and a conceited ass. That young man who came to the hotel with my tickets was there to measure my “life-waves.” I should have thought they could equally well have got them on board. Perhaps there is some particular gadget they have to get in London for each person. I don’t know. There is still a good deal about the whole business I don’t know. When I get back I will make inquiries. I’m not the first person they’ve tried it on. They drove an actor to suicide. I rather suspect they’ve been at work on poor Roger Stillingfleet. In fact I think we shall find a number of our friends who have behaved oddly lately have suffered from Angel. Anyway they have had no success with me. I’ve seen through them. All they have done is to stop my working. So I am leaving them. I shall go straight to the Galleface in Colombo and look round from there for a quiet place in the hills. I’ll telegraph when I arrive which should be about the time you get this letter.”

Kevin Bond observes that the prevalence of electronic voice harassment in Palm Springs occurs to 98 percent gay men and this he no doubt attributes to some weird kind of idea that the Illuminati are dedicating themselves to harassing gay men. In this instance we can shave a lot of nonsense from this whole affair with Occam’s Razor which suggests that logically, the simplest answer to a particular conundrum is usually the right one. In this instance we have a group apparently made up of 98 percent homosexuals all suffering from the symptoms of schizophrenia. We can therefore draw the safe conclusion therefore that schizophrenia seems to be prevalent in homosexuals. The other alternative that the government or some shadowy organization has created a special network of microwave based voice technology to harass homosexuals (for some reason) just doesn’t hold water, especially since the technology described doesn’t even need to exist because we already have something called schizophrenia.

If however, you want to discuss whether certain groups are trying to induce and encourage the development of schizophrenia (for some reason) then you would be much nearer the mark to what is really happening.

A man called John Turner became involved with this FFCHS and after speaking to board member Timothy White and Howard Thompson. According to the website, shortly afterwards John Turner bought a gun and killed his girlfriend and a neighbor, before turning the gun on himself. No doubt he believed these people were covertly harassing him since his delusions had been fueled by the FFCHS. This of course is the very real danger of allowing schizophrenics to nurture their delusions and run with them right to the end. At the end is the point at which people start to get killed.

Another member of the FFCHS named Pam Anderson killed herself shortly after joining the board, she had apparently been a victim of MK Ultra most of her life. I would suggest that she killed herself because she had allowed herself to believe a delusion from which there can be no escape from the voice. Schizophrenia is a psycho-spiritual illness and there are spiritual and psychological approaches to this illness which can prove highly effective in diminish and even completely eliminating the symptoms. 

Zen meditation,  Orthomolecular medicine, prayer and a personal engagement with Jesus Christ will all prove much more effective means of preventing the voices. The very worst thing one can do in the grip of a delusion is to seek refuge deeper in the delusion and even join with others on the same path. This will lead to total estrangement from reality and, as we have seen, possibly a premature death by suicide or stress induced heart attack.

This is the danger and prison of delusion and it is most apt that in Waugh’s experience, it was only once he no longer believed in the delusion that he was either in communication with these people as a quirk of the ship’s electrical network of cables, and after that delusion had run its course, that it was something to do with the BBC people who had some reason for harassing him just as Waugh had felt harassed during the interview, only after these delusions had been exposed for what they were that he was finally free of the voices.

“I may as well tell you the truth,” said Angel. “We never were in that ship. We worked the whole thing from the studio in England.” “They must be working the whole thing from a studio in England,” said Mr. Pinfold. “My poor darling,” said Mrs. Pinfold, “no one’s “worked” anything. You’re imagining it all. Just to make sure I asked Father Westmacott as you suggested. He says the whole thing’s utterly impossible. There just isn’t any sort of invention by the Gestapo or the B.B.C. or the Existentialists or the psycho-analysts—nothing at all, the least like what you think.” “No Box?” “No Box.” “Don’t believe her. She’s lying. She’s lying,” said Goneril but with every word her voice dwindled as though a great distance was being put between them. Her last word was little more than the thin grating of a slate-pencil.

And finally once there was no more grounds to believe the voices had any reality or reason to access you. They disappear. So giving the voices an excuse as some people do, and playing the victim ‘it’s because I’m gay’ and believing there is a technological means to access your mind, will almost certainly guarantee that the poor victims will be hounded until the end of their lives.

Just say NO to electronic harassment and say NO to the self deluded ones and charlatans who want you to believes it’s real. These voices are demonic and can only access you with the power of your belief that they can do so. It’s a nasty trap to get caught in. Please be careful and if you are caught then contact me for details of how you can escape their clutches.

I found this excellent video which explains perfectly the true cause of electronic voice phenomenon:

I'm on FIRE with dat TROOF.

I'm on FIRE with dat TROOF.
Kundalini refugee doing a bit of landscaping.

Morocco Snapshots.

Oman man!

Cyprus, history washing over old stones.

Egypt... getting proper stoned.

Jordan. Biblical landscapes.

Nice shots of Morocco

Moor from Morocco.


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