Truthspoon


Insider info and illuminati analysis...


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

Monday, 18 February 2019

The Karma Farmer: A short story.


He threw the quadruple espresso down in one into him and grimaced at the taste. His stomach burned and his heart protested at the fresh toxic caffeine load. If he kept this up then staying awake would be the least of his problems. He’d have a heart attack and it would be game over and he's be stuck with his karmic debt forever.

He had to say awake because he couldn’t sleep now, not just now. If he did the results would be disastrous the next day. He would wake up one step nearer to hell.

All day he had been running around town. When he lived in Egypt he saw how most people ran around all day, from early in the morning until near midnight, just trying to make enough money to survive. He had been running around all day trying to find an opportunity to do something good, but the stakes were higher than mere physical survival.

It was harder to be good now than it should be though. It was surprisingly difficult to do something good because London was such a closed insular city that everybody did their best to seal themselves off from everybody else. If you made a move to help someone who was struggling with a door and you helped them they looked at you with contempt for breaking the golden London rule by not minding your own damn business, or accused you of chauvinistic sexism or sexual harassment.

It never used to be like this, but recently he had moved away from that London which used to exist to a different place, a London where even an attempt to be nice could be used against you to plunge you deeper into the quicksand of karmic politics.

This was the problem of finding yourself inexorably drawn to hell day by day. The description in Dante’s Inferno was quite right except for a major misconception, the dimensions were wrong. Dante was describing the four dimensional, not the three dimensional shape of hell, though it is doubtful anyone at the time could ever have understood his point. 

The initial fall from neutrality to purgatory then to hell itself was sudden and steep, and even though one didn’t know one had just fallen into hell, one had the clear impression that something had changed about life, the smile had gone, one no longer whistled during the walk to the shops, nor did anyone else. Noone else smiled or at least, they smiled a lot less.  Then the descent into the deeper levels of hell was a steady linear affair until the point of no return, the ninth level, a steep fall then a funnel through which one fell to never recover or even sight heaven or normality again. 

For a couple of months now he had been aware that he had been steadily falling deeper and deeper into hell, except for a few occasions when he managed to balance his daily karma and do enough deeds to outweigh his bad, and he managed to climb slightly out of the hell he had found himself in.

He felt a tremor in his head, and his left eye twitched. He felt an awful chemical greasiness which probably told him that this had to be his last coffee for the day, or rather night, or rather morning, since it was coming up to about 3 am. Hopefully he would be able to stay awake until dawn but being out and about walking the streets of London was not only potentially dangerous, but possible a totally pointless exercise since who would be around for him to try to help?

He was running out of time. He knew he was in karmic debt for the day because he could feel it like he could feel the cumulative coffee poisoning. Like a subtle feeling of nagging guilt that told him the truth about himself and where he was headed if he went to sleep on it. He would wake up one level down, and one day he would find himself at the point of no return where the smiles had all gone and world war expected any time. World war was the ultimate expression of a world fallen into hell and to live through such a war was to live in a time of hell on Earth. 

The great question of what did we do to deserve it all he had answered. But initially he laughed at the suggestion until the suggestion grew in his mind and he found that he could actually make a rational case for it. Then he could no longer escape from the reality of the rational case he had built and it became the truth from which he could not find refuge in delusion.

The only curiosity was how one traveled to hell and what happened to all the other people. It was one thing to enter a personal moral landslide but why did the other people around you also have to experience the same conditions as the country, the town, the society and life itself slowly gave way to chaos and total degradation?

He had heard of the multiple universes theory which implied that there are an infinite number of universes and that apparently our decisions could create a turning point and a different universe would come into being based on that decision. He thought that theory was utterly stupid. First of all infinity was a mathematical abstraction and did not exist in the real world, or real universe. It could not because infinity was the same as eternity and everything in the universe was finite by definition. However the possibility that there were a limited number of other universes, each one worse than the previous one was a suggestion which he could accept.

He had noticed that the world and things seemed to get worse progressively and he couldn’t explain why. Entropy had appealed to him as a conceptual explanation but what was the motor or reason for entropy. It just didn't make sense. It was clearly a word to describe something science couldn't actually understand, but he and perhaps he alone could understand the motor behind widening chaos and the steady millennial long descent into the abyss. 

The theory of course that he was travelling through other universes depending on how good or bad he was made sense and it occurred to him that the only time this transition could take place would be during sleep. So he knew now that when he went to sleep in this universe he awoke in another. It was ostensibly the same, he had the same relationships, had the same job and knew the same people, but very gradually they changed, it was scarcely perceptible but he had started to notice.

He had had a few good days, when he first figured this out, the revelation of it had impelled him with new mystical zeal to climb up to be eventually reawaken in a perfect Earth, it would be a long hard journey but he was sure such a thing would be possible.

But after initial success and a sense that his life, and indeed all life seemed to be improving, he was suddenly caught by surprise by an unexpected event. Something totally out of the blue which he had failed to handle correctly: A series of slow drivers in front of him had caused him to lose his patience to such an extent that he rapidly accelerated past one of them while in town, overtaking on the oncoming traffic lane. 

Unfortunately a police car was nearby and had spotted the manoeuvre. He received a £200 on the spot fine and three points on his licence. It hit him like God's judgement on Cain. How had this happened? He realised that it was him that was the problem, it must have been. He had been impatient, and in this universe cars moved slowly because they were more relaxed people and it was also safer to drive more slowly, his frustration and reaction was his weakness and he had spoiled his chance to climb to a higher sphere after this. This had set him back for days, losing interest completely in the process and even for a moment telling himself it was all a silly delusion or paranoid fantasy.

But he couldn’t escape his own logic, the decline of society and living standards in his own country was not caused by bad government management or malevolent politicians but by his own slipping moral standards. 

It wasn’t the world which was getting worse it was him, he had once lived in a good world but he had slowly awoken day by day after several years, into worlds which suited his character better, leaving the good happy world he once knew, for this increasingly more and more doomed world on the edge of its own self destruction. But he could change, at least he tried, and that had to count for something. 

He tried to help people but the thing about being in hell was that everything backfired on him, people couldn’t be helped, or didn’t want to be helped or there was always some cruel irony which snapped at him and mocked his attempts to change his character and his universe.

“Too late, you're stuck with us now” it would mock at him, “Goodness has no power here, the only thing that makes this world turn is malice, cunning and deceit.”

Today he had seen a couple of blind men standing at the side of the road waiting to cross. He came over to them hoping to help them across the road and increase his virtue for the day and level his karmic debt.  

“Let me take your hand,” he said, feeling sure that this was the act of an angel and the blind men would be overjoyed and tearful at the sound of a good Samaritan in their dark world.

“I’ll take yer focken head.” The man jeered at him in a strong Scottish accent.

And they managed to get across the road without his help. This demoralised him greatly and his sins were greatly swelled with anger, hated and self-pity which he wallowed in for the next half an hour. He went to the pub and in his glum and joyless cidery reverie made his new world of tomorrow blacker as he mused over the benefits of nuclear war and how maybe it might be the best thing for everyone, as long as the bombs don’t fall too close to wherever he is sitting at the time.

“No.” he told himself. And he bravely fought against the diabolic suggestions which was a breeze from hell blowing in his ear when his guard was lowered and he was cidered up.

He would fight. He would struggle to leave this place and climb. The cider turned him unexpectedly tenacious and his innate stubbornness which usually only caused him problems this time was his greatest asset. He hunted around the pub for any vague or slim opportunity to do something good for someone but found nothing but a man taking refuge from reality in the doom of a newspaper and a young couple who seemed to own their corner of the pub with their combined presence. 


He looked askance at the them, remembering his girlfriends when he was in his late teens and early twenties as they seemed to be. Life seemed limitless back then and the love they had seemed to stop time and open up one of those portals of eternity which love could open up in the cosy wooden corner of a funky student pub down the Mile End road. The couple seemed young but he could not sense any eternal portal powered by love. Tragically they appeared to have already been married for twenty years, such was the look of boredom and what appeared to be a nascent gaze of abject resignation to life in the man’s eyes. What if love itself was being removed from this world too? Would he one day wake up in a world without love? Like Peter and Gordon, he didn’t want to be there. Where the birds sing out of tune and rain clouds hide the moon.

One thing he had tried was karma farming from cats. He had taken to feeding as many cats as he could find in his neighbourhood, and soon he had quite a following and they would follow him around whenever he appeared in the street or set foot outside his door. At one point he had around fifteen cats which he farmed for the karma, feeding them, stroking them and generally being nice to them because after all, he did rather like cats. But he found by calculation that cat karma wasn't worth as much as karma from human activities and although he continued to feed them he knew he couldn't rely on cats for salvation, and then his front garden had started to smell of cat piss and he would hear strange cat noises in the middle of the night and the cats of the whole area would declare his house the front line of whatever cat wars were taking place and what with the ensuing loss of sleep and rising anger and frustration that another attempt had failed he gave up on the cats altogether, though he slyly fed and petted one or two of his favourites when no other cats were looking.

Then he heard a drunken bellow reach him from somewhere in the sullen London night. Perhaps a drunk man was turning into a werewolf through the combined chemical power of drinking a heavy potion of lager and vodka through the course of an evening.

Could he help him? Perhaps the shout was literally a cry for help. He himself wasn't drunk and could possibly make himself useful to a woefully drunk man making a mischief of himself. He made towards the origin of the sound. After a few moments he heard it again, this time louder and even more insistent, perhaps the transformation was reaching its completion. Would he find a man or a beast when he arrived on the scene? A few more blocks and the sound was right ahead of him. He then saw him, hardly human, a staggering animal shape, a hunched figure, close to the ground, moving in a hobbling motion, swaying from side to side as if the very pavement were being billowed about under him like a storm at sea.

He came closer to the man who bellowed afresh at seeing him. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should just go home to bed and accept today as a loss and anticipate the fresh horrors of a day in a new descending step on the infernal multiverse.

"Alright mate," he said instead.

The drunk man made a strange sound of surprise, it was like a combination of a duck's quack and a shout, he hadn't seen him approaching, but he still remained in the strange crumbled straggling bow legged posture, slowly creeping along the heaving pavement like a man with recently mended broken legs. He could not see his face, and couldn't quite make him out somehow, the man was more of a crumpled low hobbling shadow in the city night.

"You want me to find you a taxi mate." He figured if he could just get this man in a taxi and see him home to whatever lair this horribly drunken man who was clearly composed more of alcohol than of living matter, then he could go home to sleep and with the knowledge that he would awake in a slightly better world.

The man didn't respond. This was annoying. Trying to control his feelings of growing frustration he tried again, this time more insistently:

"I say mate, can I get you a taxi?"

It seemed that the words had percolated through the alcohol sodden sponge of his brain and had dripped through slowly into his consciousness as he made some kind of reply, though he was expecting some slurred words and maybe even some vomiting, but instead there was a strange kind of whine coming from the man, a sound coming from his throat which perhaps indicated that he was trying to engage his vocal chords but was no longer able to produce speech.

His frustration was now gone and something else had moved in to occupy his thoughts: unease. The howling, quacking and whining were all animal sounds, at no point had he heard anything human from the man, combined with the fact that he had not yet seen his face since there was something indistinct about the man, he seemed to have a shadow over him, a strange trick of the night. He tried to laugh and make light of the situation.  "How much 'ave you had mate? I've never seen anyone as mashed as you, well, not since Fresher's week, but that was a long time ago."


Again there was a strange animal sound from the man. A kind of puzzled dog-whine coming from somewhere inside the man and resonating out of his face. Was this really a human or had his voyage to hell finally brought him face to face with the kind of creatures that the place is known for? Had he now fully crossed over into the abyss and was now trying to find a taxi for a demonic denizen of the deepest infernal domains. He was pretty sure that when he had never previously encountered monsters on the streets of London, even when it was just after 3am when anything could happen and nobody would know. This was the part of the day that didn't quite know whether it was really late in the night or extremely early in the morning and as such kind of existed between two worlds. The world of reality and the world of unexpected possibility. It was this time of the day when people who were out of doors and consuming large quantities of alcohol usually acquired things in their pockets that they couldn't account for when they returned home. Telephone numbers, traffic cones,  or strange new friendships. Or equally they lost things without ever remembering losing them. Things slipped and sloshed about at this time of the day/night and nothing could be secured or safely fastened down, that was why as one grew older one learned that it was better to stay at home and let the young people discover the dangers of being caught out of doors during the strange period of transition which the world with its clocks and streetlamps thought it had stripped of all its mysteries. 

But he understood the mystery, he knew he was going to be caught in the transition, maybe he was wrong, maybe the universes melted into each other during the night, perhaps the sun protected everyone from this and its gravity and radiation anchored everything down until the night came again and the universes started melting into each other again. Maybe it made no difference whether he slept or not, he would still find himself one step lower if he didn't find someone to help, and his last chance was this strange demon creature who may or may not have been actually drunk.

There was a strange hiss now, the sound of air slowly being pumped into a bicycle inner tube with a puncture. The air was coming out of the flapping slit of what must have been a mouth but the thing was so much cast in shadow it could not be discerned. The hiss suddenly and unexpectedly became a word. Then a series of words and a question.

"Who are you?" It asked him.
He was starting to wish he hadn't bothered.
"I'm Jim," he said breezily but inwardly feeling an infinite and sudden fatigue as if trying to wade out of a black-hole. 
"No." It said, or rather air was pushed out of the creature and shaped to make this sound of 'no'.
"I mean," it continued, "WHO are you?"
"I told you, my name is Jim."
"There are many who are called Jim, James, Jimmy and Jimbo, but I want to know who you are."
The voice was as if the wind could speak, and if it could it would sound like this strange thing in the middle of London in the middle of the night.

"I'm sorry but I don't know what to tell you mate."
There was something like a long dry airy chuckle from the thing.
"So.....you do not know who you are."
The air turned cold. Jim felt he was perhaps not quite in the presence of a harmless drunk and never had been, the noise the creature had made should have been a warning to him.

It continued, "It is lucky for you then, that I know who you are for you. Perhaps I can help you."
Jim was dumbfounded. What kind of help could this thing which probably never had been either drunk or a man could provide him, he who had set his heart on helping this thing.

Desperately he continued doggedly in his futile quest, "Can I get you a taxi," his only alternative would be silence and defeat and acceptance that his previously held convictions about his own personal reality were being rapidly stripped bare and exposed to some new and horribly unfamiliar and infinitely threatening new paradigm.

It laughed. 
"I can see you are uncomfortable with the unfamiliar. You really should be more flexible  and be much more accepting of the unexpected. You thought you could help me but perhaps I can help you."
"How?" Jim asked, trying to assume an air of control of the situation when he clearly had none.
"I can see that you do not have control of your life. You are here wandering around the streets of London in the middle of the night and you are not even drunk. Anyone who is sober and not engaged in essential maintenance work, taxi-cabbing or the emergency services has no business being out at this time of night. Yet you are, therefore something is wrong. I know what is wrong and I can help you find the world you believe you have lost and which you are here wandering these cold loveless drink covered pavements searching for."

He told himself he didn't understand what he was saying. 'Weird drunk bastard' he said to himself, 'just talking gibberish,' and he was happy to maintain this belief and was about to walk away and give up on the evening and maybe commiserate himself with the fact that he had tried and perhaps that might account for something in the final reckoning of the day's work, he was considering how best to extricate himself from this situation when the man spoke again:
"Don't walk away, you undertook to try to help me and that is a contract established in bond, you will not renege on it now."

He was alarmed and his inner complacency suddenly lost its familiar warmth. 
"You don't think it's a coincidence that you are here do you?"

He had no answer. He could only think now of taxis and trying to get home and perhaps this man would call one for him because he was now feeling singularly weak and wondered how he would get home, since it was an awfully long way to walk and he now felt tired and somewhat confused. He had thought he was something of an advanced party and had discovered a truth that he and he alone knew and whatever this universe or the next one gave him was within certain predictable limits. But this had just been exposed as a very short-sighted misjudgement. This might change everything. If he could survive this encounter with something which was way beyond his experience of expertise with his sanity and life intact. He looked at the form of the speaker before him, he was nervous now about just what he might see since this thing which had previously seemed less than human was now possibly more than human.

He peered into where he imagined the face might be but saw nothing but blackness, even the clothes, if they were even clothes at all were all black and formless, the man, or whatever it was, was like a twisting moving mass of blackness. 

Then suddenly, to his surprise.

"You alright mate?" 

This shook him back from this strange conversation. He focussed is eyes on the black form before him, it was now clearly a big bin-bag full of rubbish sat on the pavement awaiting an early morning collection. Had he been talking to a bin-bag? A black London taxi-cab had pulled up next to him.

"You had a few have ya? Where do you live? If it's on me way back home I'll give you a freebie."


He was too surprised to answer immediately, he turned to the taxi driver and then looked back to where the thing had been and it was clearly just a bag of rubbish. But it had moved.  

He gave his address which was on the cabbie's way back to Romford and climbed into the back of the cab and, with sheer exhaustion catching up with him he sat in a semi stupefied state somewhere between numb paralysed confusion and over-excited mental delirium, he stared out of the window wondering what it could all mean.

"You alright back there bucko? I saw you a mile off, thought you was a Banksy for a minute. Some kind of street art. You was just stood there like a statue, then I clocked. What you been on?"
Jim snapped himself out of his reverie.
"Eh?" then he caught the gist of the conversation, "Oh, nothing like that. The only thing I had was quadruple espresso."
"Well I thought you were on ketamine or something. We used to do that when we was kids. We'd end up standing around like you, that's why I stopped. You reminded me of the old days."
Something occurred to Jim.
"So you helped me out because I reminded you of the old days."
"Well, also you looked in a right two and eight. Gotta be careful round the streets of London at night. City's not as safe as she used to be. It's no skin of my nose and if I can get you home all the better."
"Kindness for kindness sake." He murmured aloud.
"Well, if y'like mate, but it doesn't hurt to do a good turn if you get the chance."

He felt he was in the cab with someone from another universe, a better universe. He decided to try to quiz him and try to get some kind of answers. He wondered why he was in the same place as someone as clearly joyfully happy and seemingly at peace with the world as this taxi driver was. But he didn't quite know how to broach the subject, and by the time he had figured out a way to innocuously bring the subject up he looked out of the window to find that he was already on the Whitechapel road and just around the corner from the place he lived. He wouldn't quite call it home since it wasn't quite that. This was London, very few people had homes, most rented rooms and apartments from private landlords so they were always either someone else's homes or else, probably nobodies'. 

Then he arrived outside his door and the taxi had stopped. 

"Look after yourself mate, be lucky!" the chirpy cockney driver sang to him while the engine ran.
He spluttered it out, "How do you stay so happy?" he asked, "Don't you sometimes think this world is  going to hell?" 
The taxi driver paused a moment, thought about what the man had said, then slowly switched off the engine.

He turned around, for the first time, to face Jim who was still in the back.

"It's funny you say that. I was thinking something similar myself this very day. Like how everything seems to be going nuts and everything you could count on turns out to be a load of crap. Pop star nonces and all that. But the thing is, I've always been a punk so I've never had any illusions about the way things are. The problem is the people who get caught and suckered, reeled in by the bullshit. But you can't bullshit me. I never had any expectations about nothing from day one, so there's no chance of getting let down. It's the people who didn't get their head round that who have the problems. I feel for the old people these days, they must think they've woken up in hell, but the problem is, they never saw through the bullshit of their own generation, but it was there, it was just hidden. Now I suppose they just ain't pretending or hiding it anymore, and anyone who ever had any false beliefs or got taken in by the appearance or lie of human civilisation if you like, is gonna get a rude wake up. Know what I mean?"

Jim thought for a moment. Yes. It did make sense. And with that, he was cured of his delusion and thanked the cabbie heartily and he never got caught talking to another black bin bag full of rubbish possessed with demonic consciousness again.  



Wednesday, 16 May 2018

The Hierarchy of One.


                                    I want to talk about The Hierarchy of One. So where are we now? Well we’re in the same old mess as ever, those of us who are genuinely well informed and more than aware of the true cause of the world’s problems and their possible solutions are chained to a huge burden which every day threatens to drag us down into the depths of destruction along with it.  This may seem trite will appear to be a banal truism but the key to the world’s problems is ignorance and the huge mass of the world’s population are as ignorant and rudderless as drifting ice-bergs and most of us have our fates tied to their deadly inertia, lack of intelligence and abject absolute cowardice.  

They seem to consume their life on Earth with all the passive bovinity of eating a McDonald's Happy Meal, but I want to try to explain why and how their weakness and lack of willingness to take charge of the world, may have a  biological and behavioural explanation. Something about the design of the human species seems to have precluded any strong desire of the majority of people to actually be able to control their own destinies, this may be some kind of throw-back to the kind of people who formed the first extended human societies, towns and cities.

 In a sense we have probably trained ourselves over the millennia to behave in this way, and the cumulative genetic memory of our ancestors who played their role in their communities, with their skills sets and abilities which they contributed to the greater social arena. In a sense we have become parts of a greater social machine, and this has meant that our individual roles would become increasingly limited. As a car or a computer has many different components, but none of those single components could do the work of the totality. A keyboard cannot display video images. A graphics card cannot be charged with electricity to power the laptop independently. But when the components are put together all of these tasks can be achieved

So as a result of our cumulative history of living within a clearly defined socio economic unit we have had to specialize in certain areas and abdicated any ability or prowess in others, which we have allotted to people who we considered better qualified to fulfil those roles.

I would suggest that within the context of a normal society, town or country, which was dedicated to its own well-being, this system would work perfectly, and seems to be the model which nature has chosen for any such  group of beings living together. And indeed, nature takes special pains to actually imprint distinct roles to animal members of an organized social group.




An interesting experiment was conducted on rats by Didier Dezier of the University of Nancy. I read about this several years ago in a book by the French author Bernard Werber entitled The Encyclopedia of relative and absolute knowledge, I do not know if an English version exists but it is actually a remarkable book which blends some interesting scientific discoveries with more esoteric knowledge and invites the reader to draw some conclusions from the apparently discrete and separate blocks of information he is presented with. There is a certain hint of mysticism possibly drawn from Kabbalism, and since Werber is ‘Jewish’ he may have some personal investment in this area and also some of what I would consider Masonic type of psychological secrets are presented such as techniques on how to unnerve someone using a handshake. There Thelema and Rabalais and one may suspect sympathies in this area, but regardless, one need not agree with Werber’s politics, just notice that he is presented some interesting information.

Rather than wasting time putting this in my own words, I’ll just read a direct translation, here it is:

An experiment was performed on rats. To study their aptitude to swim, a researcher from the behavioral biology faculty at Nancy university, Didier Desor, gathered six of them in a cage whose only exit ended in a swimming pool which they had to cross to reach a Food distributor. It was quickly found that the six rats would not go for food by all swimming together. Roles spontaneously appeared that they had thus distributed: two exploited swimmers, two non-swimmer exploiters, an independent swimmer and a non-swimmer scapegoat. The two exploited rats went for the food by swimming underwater. When they came back to the cage, the two exploiters attacked them and forced their heads under the water until they dropped the food. It was only after feeding the two exploiters that the two exploited subjects were then allowed to consume their own food.
The exploiters never swam, they just attacked the swimmers in order to be fed. The independent rat was a swimmer who was strong enough to bring back his food and defend himself against the exploiters. The scapegoat, finally, was unable to swim and unable to scare the exploited rats, so he was picking up the crumbs that fell during the fighting. The exact same social structure of-two exploited, two exploiters, an independent rat and a scapegoat was found in the twenty cages where the experiment was conducted. To better understand this mechanism of hierarchy, Didier Desor placed six exploiters together. They fought all night and in the morning, they had recreated the exact same roles. Two exploiters, two exploited, one scapegoat, one independent. And they  still got the same results by bringing together six exploited in the same cage, six autonomous, or six scapegoats.

Obviously rats have been on Earth for a very long time, and one could say that they have developed their social structure over millions of years and presumably this is a social-order which is most beneficial for the rats to survive. It might not be too beneficial for rats to have too many independently minded members of the hierarchy for whatever reason, since rats tend to live communally and in a manner of speaking, they cooperate for their mutual survival. Werber posits a concept of some kind of implicit organizational grid for each species and this idea reminds me of Biochemist and parapsychologist Dr Rupert Sheldrake’s concept of Morphic fields and Morphic resonance which alludes to a collective species memory in every living creature, from mice to amoebas, and to me this is self evident in any case because the evidence is apparent in a termite mound and the social hierarchy of the ant-colony.

But to return to my point about ignorance, this ignorance becomes developed within members of the society when they find that they can function normally in society, fulfilling their roles, feeding their families and going about their business without actually knowing anything about how their society operates and is managed. They only know what they need to know and furthermore they appear to have no desire or will to exceed the boundary of their expertise, whatever this expertise may be, whether it’s working in an office typing things into a computer, or cutting someone’s hair. This is all they need to know in order to survive in society, then they can go home once they have typed enough abstractions or cut enough hair, and spend time with their families and their hobbies, which again, are not activities which require any deeper investigation into their society, who controls it and how it operates.

The television manages to suppress any extraneous activity which might benefit them and their society, and reduces them to a state of couch bound dormancy. Almost as turning on the TV was turning the off switch of your own human agency and putting you into a kind of stasis trance where you can’t do any harm by having any sudden original thoughts or asking any important existential questions about who is running your world and to what end.

And so most people in the world have no interest in who rules their world because it is not essential for their survival for them to do so, but it is becoming increasingly apparent that we are reaching a point where our survival as individuals, a nation and even as a human civilization is becoming increasingly dependent on us becoming rapidly informed about those who are steering the course of our future and if possible, wrestling the control from their hands and steering us back onto a course which will allow for our continued survival.

In Didier Desor’s study, the rats brains were examined, it was found that the rat which showed the most oxidative stress damage to the brain was somewhat counter-intuitively, neither the victim rat, nor was it the exploited rats, but the rat which apparently suffered the most stress was the exploiter rat. This may be some comfort to those of us who long for justice and suffer with this awareness of how we are all exploited and the myriad crimes of our oppressors, but it would appear that it is they who are suffer the most as a result of their place at the top of the hierarchy. Perhaps it is a question of continual anxiety about preserving their position and the stratagems and mental labours they must undertake to maintain dominance and control. Perhaps also it is some knowledge of their own nature, that they are the exploiter and the continual fight against their own conscience possibly creates a state of perpetual nervous anxiety. I have previously written books and articles where I have specifically explored this link between anxiety, oxidative stress and actual changes in brain chemistry which manifest several important physiological changes which is something I have termed ‘Cain Consciousness’ and is the key mental outlook of what is termed The Illuminati.

Just like rats, I have no doubt that our leaders and rulers live in a similar state of perpetual anxiety and perhaps imagine that one day they will be found out and cast down by those they have oppressed.
In the rat’s social hierarchy the best place to be is outside of it completely, that is to be the independent rat. Since this rat is neither burdened with continually trying to maintain his role as an exploiter exploiter, nor is this one forced to devote most of ones labour to feeding the exploiter by being one of the exploited.

In order to be the independent rat however one needs the skills required to survive on ones own terms. The exploiter must adopt this role because they lack the skills they need to live independently and must exploit others in order to exist. The exploited in turn lack the skills required to exist within their own frame of reference so become involved in someone else’s. That is, in a manner of speaking, they are not able to imagine an alternative to living within the social hierarchy in the role of exploited. The independent rat has the skills to survive in the created environments such as swimming and is not intimidated by the exploiter rats and is unwilling to cooperate with them in their hierarchy.

But even if one were to fill a cage with 6 such independent rats one would find the same social hierarchy impose itself upon the rats, and presumably there must be some useful reason for this, perhaps a society full of independent rats would not be condusive to maintaining social cohesion. In fact if there were more independent rats then there would be no one to support the exploiter rats so in a sense the exploiters, although appearing to be on top of the hierarchy are really at the bottom because they are the most dependent, even the victim rat who can neither swim nor dominate the other rats manages to feed himself by scavenging leftovers. In a sense he still has some independence and does not have to continually be in fear of maintaining his place in the hierarchy.

But to be independent one has to learn the skills necessary to survive within the environment without depending on anyone either in an exploitative sense or by being exploited. This means you have to understand your environment, and how to use it to achieve maximum personal well being.

Most people do not choose this option because it requires a certain amount of effort which must come from the self and for the benefit of the self. It takes no personal effort of the will to be told what to do under duress and do it, because one feels that one has no choice in the matter because fear directs you, but to break free of this fear and to refuse to follow orders and to work on making your own life and being in a hierarchy of one is surely the most personally useful and healthy ways to spend ones time on Earth.

But being in a hierarchy of one necessarily means you have to as complete and understanding of the environment around you as possible, it is no use relying on TV news or politicians to tell you about your environment because you are immediately entering a knowledge hierarchy with the presupposition that they know something you don’t. Often in fact the knowledge hierarchy must create information of no relevance in order to draw people into a hierarchical dependence relationship, this is the purpose of television and film entertainment. There is nothing natural or normal about watching a two hour presentation of fictional reality and the origins of film and theatre originate in the strange secret cults of the ancient world where watching the enactment of a classical myth, likely while under the influence of various psychoticants, in order to further help the suspension of disbelief, where Gods and Godesses enact their various roles in the classical legends, provoking a transformative experience in the mind of the oberserver or what Aristotle termed ‘Catharsis’.

Television and entertainment exist to draw people into something like the league of the exploited within a dominance hierarchy, giving their attention to soap opera story lines, awaiting the critical delivery of banal information and stories involving non existent characters with no little to no moral value or intrinsic worth.

It is much better to dedicate at much of your time to completing your knowledge of the world, but in almost all cases, none of this actual information will come from the media or even the official historical record which is mostly a catalogue of lies and inscribed propaganda deceptions for the purpose of propaganda, among which we can cite the Moon landings, the JFK assassination, a the real causes and geo-political purpose behind the two World Wars.

We see that once we make the mistake of accepting certain historical claims as fact, then one finds themselves trapped in an ongoing continuum of deception, for instance if one believes in the 1969 Moon landings, then the further deceptions such as the talk of landings on Mars will probably be accepted at face value, rather than what they are in reality, namely just further propaganda to shore up and support the NASA propaganda stream.

The latest propaganda stream which is currently having all waters diverted to its course is the Islamic terror bogeyman and this has allowed the US government to fight several wars on Israel’s behalf and presently we seem to be on the verge of a third world war, because of the media’s craven enslavement to those same secret forces which are pushing for a new world war. As to the nature of this enslavement and why so many agents from government and media, who should be protecting our safety are precisely neglecting their task so egregiously we can only guess, but such total control can only come from such nefarious tools as blackmail, and in my opinion, it is for such a reason that child abuse seems to be something which in endemic and institutional, yet investigations are repeatedly dropped and dossiers mysteriously ‘lost’, D notices deployed, victims and whistle blowers harassed by the full machinery of the media and the state, and even imprisoned, the because it is the primary means that the secret elite use to control every agency of power in the country and in the west as a whole.

But these people could achieve nothing without the tacit support of the UK population, and that means people buying newspapers, watching television and engaging with the media dialectic about their world. Not to say that this makes the broad mass of population complicit, but without the credulous acceptance and continued subscription into the media’s reality continuum, the status quo would not be able to continue with any claim of being a democratic system which is supported by the people. The word ‘media’ suggests a medium between the people and elite secret power behind world events, and by being part of the ‘transaction’ and a passive  recipient of the media message, then anyone watching television and believing and investing their world view with the media’s invented propaganda stream, are ultimately allowing the horrors of the past present and future to unfold. Watching TV and engaging in the media dialectic is like being on a passive subscription plan to your own destruction, because the people behind events have some very special 'eradication' plans for you people, 

And the world will never be free, as long as people still watch TV. So our only hope lies, in maintaining as much of our personal freedom as possible, in joining the hierarchy of one.

Sunday, 18 February 2018

The Cult of the Sacred Feminine. More from my new-book, available now.


A great deal of misguided new-agers and practicing feminists believe in the cult of the sacred feminine. In recent times this idea gained some mainstream exposure with the release of Dan Brown’s the Da-Vinci Code, which took ideas from Freemason Michael Baigent’s and Lincoln’s book ‘Holy Blood Holy Grail’ which sought to show that Da Vinci encoded the secret of Mary Magdalen’s relationship with Jesus and made a case that the sacred feminine was part of early Christianity which had been ruthlessly suppressed by the Catholic church.


Their ideas of the ‘sacred feminine’ are usually half formed and nebulous and don’t really contain any solid thesis, except the one thing they tend to agree on is that whatever the sacred feminine was, the evil Catholic Church suppressed it.


I am not here going to argue against the ‘evilness’ of the Catholic Church, I am in full agreement that this indeed an evil institution, but part of its evil is ironically not because it suppressed the sacred feminine but precisely because it reveres it.

The Catholic Church is a cult which specifically deifies the female, in exactly the same way as the cults of the ancient world. Within Catholicism, Mary is exalted far beyond Jesus as the ‘mother of God’ and clearly, if the Catholic dogma states that Jesus was God on Earth then Mary as his mother, would figuratively and literally be the ‘mother of God’ and hence, woman is superior, even to God.

Clearly then, Mary ‘outranks’ Jesus in whatever imaginary pantheon the Catholics were operating from when they draw up their Catechism, and their litany of prayers calling for the intercession of Mary.

The nature of Jesus’ relationship with ‘God’ is much more subtle than the dogma of the church and there was much blood spilt over a precisely rigid definition of the nature of Jesus’ Godhood when this wasn’t really the point.

In the Ancient world the sacred Feminine was wholeheartedly celebrated and celebrated in a variety of cults. These cults celebrated the Goddesses known under various names but essentially they were different elements of the same Goddess. They were usually sexual in nature, because obviously once one starts to make spirituality a matter of gender, ie ‘cult of the feminine’ then evidently one is dealing with sexuality.

This is a key point the silly sausages blabbing about sacred feminine this and sacred feminine that miss, or aren’t really capable of understanding, is that as soon as one starts to bring sexual gender into discussion then one is literally and obviously focusing on sex. And so it was and is. The feminine cults of the ancient world all focused, to the exclusion of other more interesting spiritual matters, on sex. The Cult of Venus was all about sex. The cult of Cybele was all about sex. The cult of Ishtar was all about sex. The cult of Venus demanded that women prostitute themselves on the steps of the temple in order to be protected in society by the cult. The cult of Cybele demanded that men castrate themselves on the steps of the temple to serve as the eunuchs to officiate over the sexual rites. The Catholic church, in its guise of cult of the sacred feminine as Mary mother of God demanded that virgin nuns give up their virginity to ‘God’ ie: the priests, and ritually sacrifice any unwanted children to be buried on the grounds of the convent.

This is what is really meant by sacred feminine. Just as any religion which claimed to be about the ‘sacred masculine’ would be focussed on the phallus and sex. Any cult which reveres the ‘sacred feminine’ is going to necessarily interest itself with the mythos and metaphysics of the generative principal, because that’s what gender is on an unavoidably fundamental level, which is precisely why it is so ‘unspiritual’ to genderize spirituality and anyone who tries to do so is deliberately misleading you and most likely, trying to suck you into some kind of sex cult.

So be warned, witches, wannabees and feminists. Get smart. You have to leave your dick or pussy behind in the next world. There’s no meat in heaven. Neither blood sausage, fish taco, clams and sauce or hot beef. There ain't nothing cooking in that respect so if you think doing Tantric sex is preparing your soul for the spiritual world think again and get used to being a spiritual vegetarian.

One could argue that in today’s society the knowledge of the sacred feminine principal is oppressed, in the way that society and the media seems reluctant to acknowledge that females can be just as aggressive and destructive as feminists tell us men are. The Ancients knew that women and females harboured a terrible and potentially destructive power within them, one that at times, could breach all ability to moderate and pacify it: hell hath no fury and all that. It is for this reason that the female Goddess Sekhmet was depicted as a female lion and in her irrational destructive rages was said to turn rivers red with blood and had to be tricked and appeased to control her wrath. A special beer was brewed and used in one ancient ritual and this was poured into the river until it resembled blood and this was said to calm the ferocious spirit of Sekhmet.

Hathor and Nut the cow Goddesses, evoke the wild female cows of the marshes of Northern Egypt, who when disturbed by mere humans, would charge in a wild rage and send all to rout. The Ancient Egyptian pantheon did not appear ready-made at some remote point in history, but gradually developed and became refined. The early archetypal Gods and Goddesses included Nut; Nut was the night sky and was seen as inherently feminine, perhaps it is for this reason that the word Night is feminine in German, Gallic, Urdu, Hindi, Slavic and all the Romance languages. Night was seen by the Egyptians not as an absence of sunlight, but as a medium in itself, like the idea of the aether, and modern science is steadily rejecting the idea that space itself is not a void but a medium formed by the zero point field of constantly vibrating energy, this energy very likely creates the vacuum as a ‘space’ in reality, the Casimir effect demonstrates the existence of this vacuum zero point energy. For the Ancient Egyptians this quantum energy was visualised as a protecting all-encompassing mother in whom one could take refuge by ascending a special ladder.

One could form a hypothesis about the true nature of God being energy and that the different Gods and Goddess of the ancient world were just different forms and concentrations of energy. Nut is an embodiment of the quantum vacuum energy of space in which the Earth lies cradled, as if nurtured within some great cosmic womb, and hence the feminine aspect of ‘night’. The vacuum is an energy field which allows the propagation of light and energy cannot travel without a medium. The presence of the Goddess lies within the vibrating field of the positronic and anti-particles which scientists now believe give the vacuum its reality and creates ‘space’ as we know it, that is distance and separation.


Heaven and the nature of God in ancient Egypt seemed to focus on the sun and in my own previous book entitled Light in the Darkness I attempted to demonstrate that the sun is an energy portal into the quantum subatomic realm to infinity and, to quote Buzz Lightyear, beyond. 
In his book Ancient Egypt, historian and Christian theologian George Rawlinson suggests that the Ancient Egyptians also had this view that the sun was a portal through which they passed in order to enter the next world:

“Thoth standing by the while, with a tablet in his hand, whereon to record the result. According to the side on which the balance inclined, Osiris, the president, delivered sentence. If the good deeds preponderated, the blessed soul was allowed to enter the "boat of the Sun," Aahlu (Elysium), to the "pools of peace"..”

The energy of the Goddess Nut is physically manifested as the constant creation and annihilation of matter and antimatter pairs of particles which presumably creates a vibration or lateral 4 dimensional pulse which is the nature of the underlying zero point energy of the universe. A constant ripple throughout the whole universe like an endless black sea upon which light itself travels in its eternal frozen moment, a bright instant of light and energy like an intergalactic superhighway, ferrying consciousness and the souls of the myriad beings surfing the sea of the Duat.

The English word Night, the French word Nuit and the Germanic word Not all evoke the name of the Goddess Nut which became the Latin word Nox and the Greek Goddess Nyx who is incidentally the mother of the deities of sleep (Hypnos) and death (Thanatos), as if somehow in sleep and death, we return into the realm of darkness. In ancient Egypt the ‘Underworld’ or Duat was simultaneously the realm of darkness, divided into hours, as in the Egyptian book of the Dead, and also the realm of the dead. So the initiatic ordeal of Unas for instance, as depicted on the walls of the tomb of Unas in Sakarra, took place both at night and simultaneously, in the realm of the dead which it was necessary for him to pass through until emerging into the light, which is the actual real name of the Book of the Dead: The Book of Coming Forth by Day. 
In Norse mythology the goddess of the Night was known as Nott, and this is again the same fundamental archetypal Goddess as that of the Greek Roman and Egyptian deities.

Ultimately all of these Goddesses of ancient Egypt were all elements of the fundamental female Goddess Isis. Isis has all the abilities and attributes of Sekhmet and Hathor combined. Isis, is said to be able to dispel storms like Sekhmet who was a warrior Goddess and also a goddess of healing. Her image statue was said to be secretly coated with anthrax by the priests and anyone who dared to profane her presence by touching her statue would shortly be struck down and die, apparently from the power of Sekhmet’s curse. Statues of Sekhmet were found all over Egypt and it is hard now to see them in the same way the ancient Egyptians saw them.
They would have evoked terror since anyone who approached Sekhmet was stricken down with a curse, caused by the anthrax virus which was painted onto the surface of statues of Sekhmet to strike down anyone who dare be so importune as to touch her.


The sistrum was associated with Sekhmet and Isis just as it is with Ishtar. The sistrum was a hand-held metal percussion instrument which would produce a sound when shaken and so closely was the Sistrum identified with Sekhmet that the sistrum’s name in ancient Egyptian was Sekhem which means ‘power’. Shaking the sistrum was not merely a musical act, it was a magical one, somewhat like waving a magic wand, of course it is hard for the modern reader again to properly imagine or visualize the power of the Sekhem when it was shaken because we have a different set of beliefs about the forces which govern the universe, but imagine in the absence of our modern science and indeed any of the developments and understandings which we have developed over the years and imagine that you genuinely believed that a shaken sistrum had a profound power, just as when you were a child and saw a magician shake his magic wand and make something disappear in a puff of smoke you might not have known that what you were seeing was an illusion. So too with the ancient world. There was a lot of illusion but the point was that the people believed the illusion and believing the illusion gives it an extra element of power in reality which makes it real. 

This is the key to ritual in the ancient world. An illusion or trick was necessary and commonly used to create the willing suspension of disbelief which would then give the ritual the power it needed to potentially manifest actual magical events and spiritual occurrences. Much like the battery which is necessary to create the spark to start the engine of a car. The illusion is the spark which catches the minds of the ritual’s participants to power the unfolding events, whatever they might have been.

On the internet there is a great deal of cyber blather about Isis, sheer new-age twaddle of the most naïve and uninformed kind. One website, The Hermetic Fellowship in particular has invented a silly liturgy with lots of ‘thees’ and ‘thine’ because of course, magical practitioners are on very informal terms with ancient Egyptian deities. The online text invites Isis to possess the person in question, and this could be problematic since chanting loudly facing the East asking ISIS to ‘come in’ may risk a visit from the anti-terrorism unit of MI5 depending on how effective their surveillance technology is.

Adam Weishaupt himself understood the true covert power of women which has now become an overt power and is turning the world on its head and in his Bavarian Illuminati women were also enlisted. He wrote: “There is no way of influencing men so powerful, as by means of women. These should therefore be our chief study; we should insinuate ourselves into their good opinion, give them hints of emancipation from the tyranny of public opinion, and of standing up for themselves...” He also wrote: “This sex has a large part of the world in their hands.” Female members were divided into two groups: one group of society women, to give the organization an air of respectability; and the other group “who would help to satisfy those brothers who have a penchant for pleasure.” The Illuminati also used monetary and sex bribery to gain control of men in high places, then blackmailed them with the threat of financial ruin, public exposure, and fear of death.


On page 296 of Nesta Webster’s Secret Societies and Subversive Movements we see the possibility of a connection between Freemasonry and Feminism and it is my certain conviction that the Freemasons have harnessed the potentially destructive power of female irrationality under the guise of empowering women by creating Feminism which is presently destroying the ethical, moral and cultural codes of any country which fervently adopts it.

“The first and only woman to be admitted into real Masonry, if such a term can be applied to so heterogeneous a system, was Maria Deraismes, an ardent French Feminist celebrated for her political speeches and electioneering campaigns in the district of Pontoise and for twenty-five years the acknowledged leader of the anti-clerical and Feminist party. In 1882 Maria Deraismes was initiated into Freemasonry by the members of the Lodge Les Libres Penseurs, deriving from the Grande Loge Symbolique Écossaise and situated at Le Pecq in the Department of Seine-et-Oise. The proceeding being, however, entirely unconstitutional, Maria Deraismes's initiation was declared by the Grande Loge to be null and void and the Lodge Les Libres Penseurs was disgraced. But some years afterwards Dr. George Martin, an enthusiastic advocate of votes for women, collaborated with Maria Deraismes in founding the Maçonnerie Mixte at the first lodge of the Order named ‘Le Droit Humain.’ The Suprême Conseil Universel Mixte was founded in 1899”

Feminism’s moral high-ground combined with the deference which society and men give women, is leading to the complete loss of all moral and common sense and female feminists seem to be leading the charge to normalize trans-genderism (an occult ritualized fetish from the Sumerian rites of the Goddess Inanna) mass-immigration and demonizing the white-male. This sustained attack on white men by Feminists is a threat to the very continuation of human civilization itself since it was white men who founded our civilization and who keep the wheels turning. If these people are deposed, which is an effort which is currently underway and is an attack being spearheaded by women under the flag of Feminism, then the world of convenience they enjoy will be stripped from them and everything we have now and take for granted, will be gone. It may seem a long shot but there are plenty of precedents for the sudden destruction of hitherto stable advanced civilizations.

Monday, 29 January 2018

CS Lewis, Illuminati Schizophrenia, and the Macroscopic Control of Planet Earth.


I have done a moderate amount of research in previous books and articles which suggests that the Illuminati and ancient secret cults have specifically found methods to prompt changes in the mental condition of those within their group and also those they wish to recruit. Specifically it is my belief that schizophrenia represents the apotheosis of the secret society mystery school experience and at this point the mystae becomes directly connected to the true source of the secret organization and can receive instructions directly from whatever unseen forces and presences actually direct the group’s activity. These are the ‘hidden masters’ which Helena Blavatsky alludes to. My work in this field isn’t new and there’s one book in particular: That Hideous Strength by CS Lewis, which details, from what I presume must be a position of personal occult knowledge, the process of drawing the initiate into contact with the shadowy discarnate beings which seemed to be directly involved in the events of the story.

“He understood the whole business now. Frost was not trying to make him insane; at least not in the sense Mark had hitherto given to the word "insanity." Frost had meant what he said. To sit in the room was the first step towards what Frost called objectivity--the process whereby all specifically human reactions were killed in a man so that he might become fit for the fastidious society of the Macrobes. Higher degrees in the asceticism of anti-nature would doubtless follow: the eating of abominable food, the dabbling in dirt and blood, the ritual performances of calculated obscenities. They were, in a sense, playing quite fair with him--offering him the very same initiation through which they themselves had passed and which had divided them from humanity, distending and dissipating Wither into a shapeless ruin while it condensed and sharpened Frost into the hard, bright, little needle that he now was.”

The activities described by CS Lewis in his protagonist’s initiation into the inner circle of the N.I.C.E organization seem to evoke that kind of activities which Aleister Crowley became known for, such as coprophilia and bestiality. Lewis’, through his character, correctly surmises that these activities are designed to remove the man from himself, from any value judgements of right or wrong, or even to have any personal considerations of what is good for themselves. This is very clearly a form of mental illness and one might presume that the final stage is total abdication of ones own will and personal wishes to be dominated by another consciousness, whether that consciousness is human or non-human. If the consciousness is human, then we can say that this person is mind controlled, if the consciousness is non-human and non-corporeal, then we can say that this person has become schizophrenic. Both such are extremely well represented within the Illuminati and its worldwide network of groups of all types, whose goal and methods are the same, this is what we can know broadly as ‘The Illuminati’. The Illuminati is not one group, it is a method and a goal, and any group which shares these, we can term part of the Illuminati.

The members of CS Lewis fictionalized version of the Illuminati are a mixed bunch who seem to operate at differing levels of mental illness and different levels of awareness of the group, its aims and its true masters. There is a lesbian sadist, known as the Fairy, who is responsible for the media outreach of the group and also policing and internal security. There is the high-flying sociopath Lord Feverstone whose work with the NICE is solely motivated by personal gain and literally doesn’t care that demonic creatures are trying to take over planet Earth as long as he gets paid. The human leader of the N.I.C.E is John Wither, he is in full astral and mental contact with the disembodied trans-dimensional Macrobes and consequently he isn’t really quite there at all as a normal functioning human being. The character rarely sleeps and seems to exist in a perpetual dream like state between two worlds. As a result of this the character is capable of projecting his presence anywhere he wishes like a ghostly image. Upon seeing the physical reappearance of Wither on the road outside the institute just as he was resolved to physically escape from the institute, Studdock is seized with such terror upon seeing Wither whom he was certain he had just left behind him at the institute some moments ago that his resolve to escape evaporates and powerlessness seizes him utterly.

The ongoing weakening of Mark Studdock’s personal will and personality is the key theme in the process of his developing inculcation into the inner workings of the group, ending with a final initiation where he is asked, in the fashion of the Templars who possibly were also under control of the Macrobes, to spit upon a cross. In a similar vein to reports of the Knights Templar, the characters of the inner circle of the NICE all worshipped a disembodied head. However they weren’t all quite worshipping the same thing since were levels of awareness as to the ultimate signification of the talking head. The rationalist scientist Dr Filostrato, dedicated at all cost to human scientific development, believes that the head is being artificially sustained with science and that the head contains the resident consciousness of a murdered scientist from the French revolution. The truth known only to three people however is that the head is really a housing for the consciousness of the non-human Macrobes, and this illustration and indeed the whole organization of the N.I.C.E represents the strange crossing point of science with the Satanic occult, which we can have a suspicion about by examining the scientific work of the Nazis, or of the development of post war rocketry technology in United States which seemed to be a strange symbiosis of Nazi war criminals and Aleister Crowley’s OTO. The assumption might be that engaging in occult rituals to contact demonic beings may be a way for scientists to gain inspiration of even direct knowledge from this other realm. Lewis seems to have written That Hideous Strength to be more prescient even than George Orwell’s 1984 in his description of an ostensibly secular atheistic government institution which secretly is in league with demonic beings which are deeply antithetical to human life on Earth.

If we can allow ourselves to entertain the possibility that there might be a spiritual dimension with both ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ then there might be ways on Earth which have been developed to contact these beings. If you cannot for one second entertain that idea, then you will no doubt find a way to deny the plausibility of what I am about to describe, since you have decided that the laws of the universe are a certain way, then no evidence or even the actual manifestation of events to the contrary, will convince you otherwise. Such is your prerogative, but eventually your road will lead you to a high barren plateau and a sudden dead-end in the middle of nowhere and your only hope will be to retrace the steps of a life and find the point of origin where you first took the diversion into error. This may happen in this world if you are lucky, if however it happens in the next world then you might just be out of luck and I would imagine it unlikely to preserve your personality and sense of self in a cosmos which you have single handedly chosen to deprive of all meaning.

For Socrates, the meaning of philosophy as reported by Plato was ‘preparation for dying’ and one might say that the only danger of living life here in this world is that, for whatever reason, you failed to adequately prepare yourself for the next one.

“I will….. show that he who has lived as a true philosopher has reason to be of good cheer when he is about to die, and that after death he may hope to receive the greatest good in the other world.”

So if a belief in the existence of the next world and some presently unmeasurable mechanism which allows for the continued existence of human consciousness, which after all seems to be some kind of non material electromagnetic field, can be said to exist, and said by no less esteemed a philosopher than Socrates, then this avenue at least might bear some preliminary investigation and some enlightened conjecture, if only to give thanks to Socrates for epistemology and the Socratic method of reasoning. And if in the event our light illuminates nothing but a wardrobe full of delusions and wishful thinking then so be it but at least we will know what’s what.

One of the primary pieces of equipment we can use for measuring the unmeasurable is our own intelligence, providing it is unencumbered by things like emotively inspired prejudice or over-reliance on the thoughts of others. In the first instance someone might immediately reject any notion of spirituality and indeed, become quite angry at the mere suggestion, because they have had a personally traumatic experience with a Catholic priest. It is natural for the psyche to react to trauma with anger as a sure defence and hope that it won’t happen again but this emotive response bypasses the intellect and reasons somehow that because Catholic priests and the Catholic church, has a strong tendency toward evil, that therefore all such spiritual matters must also be of the same evil tendency. It is a logical fallacy in the same way that someone who was once served a bad cup of tea might heretofore reject not only tea but all hot drinks for ever more. It is lazy emotive thinking, and the heart is not known as an organ where rational decisions can be best made, it is therefore best for such people to try to see beyond their own pain and accept that evil doesn’t discriminate in this world and will try to work any angle it can, to wreak havoc.

The church isn’t wholly evil, but evil has certainly entered the church and allowed itself to lie undisturbed for a very long time by people who should have known better. But as we have seen, the Roman church itself was formed in ignorance of the person and ministry of Christ, and perhaps it really is the mother of harlots as depicted in the Book of Revelations.


The second form of cognitive error which will likely lead to the inability to perceive and think clearly is that of trusting your betters and letting them do your thinking for you. We all have to work after all and when we come home we have to cook, clean the car, deal with our families. Who has time to think anymore? Besides, there are people on TV and who write book who are specially employed to think for us, indeed they make their living from thinking so we don’t have to. A TV scientist like Richard Dawkins is just another convenient lifestyle solution like a dish washer, he does all the work so you don’t have to. 


The tragedy is that the general public trust such people far too much and in their naivety they imagine that the country’s media and elite educational institutions have nothing up their sleeves and no hidden agenda, or that these individuals themselves have no hidden agenda. So perhaps people ought to stop to recalibrate their own minds a moment and consider that Richard Dawkins doesn’t see any harm with paedophilia. So perhaps, these TV thinkers are not all they seem to be? Perhaps we shouldn’t let such people do our thinking for us because perhaps such people are not actually on the same side of the chessboard as we are. Perhaps they are members of the N.I.C.E or whatever literal equivalent actually exists within the UK’s scientific elite, exhorting us that no spiritual realm or God, as a fundamental arbiter of right and wrong, even exists, therefore giving them a rather valuable monopoly on right and wrong and the ability to work on whatever unpleasant secret scientific abominations they care to, without hindrance or concern for morality, ethics, pain and suffering or even consequences. Science lives in a consequence free world because it has shut out God and ethics from its considerations it has also, by the same gesture of a suicidal woman locking herself in the bathroom with a bottle of paracetamols, made a concerted decision not to heed the pleadings from outside the door not to do anything rash or stupid.


So these are largely the reasons for the spread of atheism, or knowing the unknowable. If the price were your soul is it worth staking the bet on atheism? Well, also humans are very much herd animals, at least the lesser developed of us are. One fellow online, has this fanciful theory that the Illuminati are identifiable by a specific blood group. Unfortunately he doesn’t provide any evidence or make much of a case to support a potentially interesting avenue of research. Predictably the researcher himself doesn’t have the rhesus positive factor in his blood, which no doubt makes him special, or saved, or no doubt better than those with the rhesus positive factor, in every way and also that he isn’t related to monkeys. It’s all rather silly. Some people even believe rhesus negative people are being especially tracked by the secret intelligence services and there are many such websites out there to feed these silly delusions and inevitably the more you read you soon find yourself drawn into nonsense about reptilians and DNA splicing aliens. One such article written by Kate Kaiser ticks all these boxes and cites the well known fraud James Casbolt (who was actually jailed for nine years in 2016 for stalking and attempting to blackmail his ex wife, MGTOW would have saved him a lot of trouble) as a reliable source.

James Casbolt, possibly under pressure from Mr Big or the screws, or perhaps under the inducement of a couple of snout and a reduction in his sentence, has started sending out letters to ‘researchers’ such as Miles Johnstone, whose dangerous bullshit we encountered in the Evelyn Waugh, electronic harassment chapter. In one letter read out by Miles Johnstone, Casbolt revisits the old theosophy fraud of Maitreya which was originally a strange New-Age cult with very few adherents, by the strange New-Age and almost certainly Freemasonic, Benjamin Crème. Crème was an obvious fraud to anyone with half a wit, yet this much wit appears to be lacking amongst many in the conspiracy movement, but there is a suspicion amongst these people that they opened their minds just a little too widely and allowed all their common sense, intelligence and discernment to fly out. 


There also seems to be the spectre of death over these people too, considering the mysterious death of Max and it all seems to recollect at least to my mind, the ill fated delusions of the group which grew around Uri Geller, as detailed by Clive Prince and Lyn Picknet in their classic expose of the New Age and aliens movement and its ties to the security services The Stargate Conspiracy. I do not know whether Max Spiers was murdered to silence him or that he discovered anything exceptional which might threaten national security. It is claimed that he was reasearching a paedophile ring in the US military but no further information is released and if he did have anything of substance, then with ‘friends’ like former media man Miles Johnstone who chides people who comment on his Youtube videos if they refer to BBC paedophilies, then it is unlikely we will discover anything since Johnstone is clearly an establishment gate-keeper. Max Spiers was believed to have had some problems with a heroin addiction which Miles Johnstone believes was caused by aliens. It’s only regrettable that anyone actually takes any notice of Johnstone and perhaps it is part of Spiers misfortune that he had anything to do with Johnstone.


Since he died while under the care of his apparent girlfriend in Poland then we can safely assume that  he wouldn’t have died had he not been with those people. We could take it one step further and say that if he was murdered, then he was probably murdered by those closest to him and with the most access. Moreover he may not have been murdered for any specific secrets he may have uncovered but simply murdered for a ritual sacrifice and the fact that he was there. I believe the Polish police are specifically investigating his girlfriend in connection with his death but whether we hear anything or the matter is quietly dropped remains to be seen.


What is more disturbing is the fact that his mother received a text message some days before his death saying that he was in trouble and if anything should happen to him she ought to investigate. Quite why he didn’t immediately get on the first plane out of Poland and return to the UK at this point we cannot know, but it was also said that he suffered from anxiety disorder and may have experienced a sort of paralysis and inability to act. But again, he was apparently ‘with friends’ in Poland, so why was he not safe with them? I believe he was sacrificed by the group he was with who are likely witches and members of the occult. The sacrifice of Max Spiers would be useful to them to create both a sense of fear amongst conspiracy researchers and flaneurs, since everybody now knows about Max’s death and it was extensively covered in the tabloid press. Additionally it can create a false aura of credibility to alien/UFO research and perhaps make people believe that it isn’t merely a scam of the intelligence services and military, particularly with fraudulent old spooks like Miles Johnstone maintaining the desired narrative story and plotline.


There is a very real sense that there is no actual story here except a series of opportunities which people like Miles Johnstone embroider to serve their purpose. As I mentioned before, even Spiers’ problem with drugs was marketed as part of the alien plot but the tragedy is there are people out there who really believe this stuff and Johnstone’s mock sincerity and emotive posturing are dragging more and more people into the dangerous web of delusion and drawing them closer to the type of dangerous new-age witchcraft cultists, who organize these UFO groups and may even have been responsible in one way or another for Spiers’ death.  

Be careful out there people.

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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