hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Fred swiped away the music for now. A few taps later he was trying contain his cool. He went to Pseudo Occult Media ( http://www.pseudoccultmedia.net/view/flipcard ) to check some news. A few taps more and his jaw had dropped. "Coincidence Theory" was going out the window at this point. He couldn't turn away from all the data that the universe was streaming.

He was standing in front of a temple, about to talk to a monk, about Christ. What he was looking at on his phone was a totally random choice. He only clicked three times. The odds of it where astronomical! He read through his phone:

"Cristiano Ronaldo (huge football star) is a Christ resonator. Not only because his name has Crist in it, but also because of a synchronistic link to Ronald/Roland Taverner in Southland Tales, who is the real Messiah in the film.

Millions of people practically worship Ronaldo, just like they did to the overweight buck-toothed Brazilian Ronaldo (see him in the Simpsons with Valis/Zebra/Checker symbolism resonating Homer). So you have two Ronaldo's both renowned for the exact same thing, being football gods to many. In Southland Tales, a duplicate of Ronald/Roland is made when he travels through a rift in space/time. Maybe the duplicitous nature of Ronalds/Ronaldos has something to do with dualism like in Freemasonry."

Just like all the songs he had been going through? He decided to check the author of the article. His name was Benjamin Singleton. The first return on Google came back as:

"A leader in the "Great Exodus"

but that Ben had died in 1900.
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)

Fred's eyebrow raised. The next clue mentioned another track by Rip the Jacker


Fraternity of the Impoverished
Knowledge this, knowledge this
The vocalist beast, knowledge like the Pope in this piece
You think the ocean is deep? Fuck with me!
Unbelievable bars, unbeatable odds
Unspeakable horrors at a unperceivable cost
Your unagreeable response lacks thought and human heart
This is Lyrical Law, it's what I make the music for
My prayers are simple, my forehead is layered with wrinkles
Because of all the hardships that I've been through
Symbolic Hip Hop prophet speak to your subconscious
French politics got the public thinking the opposite
I'm a hypo-lyrical spontaneous alchemical
Elite neo-liberal child of the indigo
Drilling holes through the Faraday cages of your brains
Then I implant the arcane image of Saint Germaine
High lyrical exponent intelligence quotient
When I'm focused I can engage multiple opponents
But I won't if, I have no motive,
"Soldier be careful, it's loaded!"
Verbose with emotions of psychosis
In case you didn't notice ,when I wrote it
I'm spitting lyrics fitting in tighter spaces than outer-space roaches
A real emcee don't have to do what he don't wanna do
And that includes freestylin' in front of you
It's not like something gone change
It's not like the whole world gone start praising my name-
I stay in my lane
I'd rather die by living brave then live like a slave
I'd rather be broke then be fake and get paid
These layers of physicality challenge me
My soul is gold and it's the only thing that's able to balance me
My energy body has a alchemical copy that looks godly
Not fat, out of shape or sloppy
The iller the rhymes the more that I embody
Vilified when real recognize real - I gets mines
Stand with the underdog - don't be a coward
Stop dickriding people for their money and power!
Even the American flag says 'Made in China'
The national debt says the US is a vagina
Of a black widow spider spraying blood out like a geyser
Why do we lose everything we fight for?
Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters
In the land of the lawless, sacrificed before Horus
The Inca, the Aztecs, the Mayans, were masters
A new beginning is coming - the irony is classic
The potential of life versus the potential of death
Either way we go through mad mental stress
God forbid for you, for her, or him
We ignored the gems now we gotta do it all again
We failed Hip Hop's laws and brought down shame upon our cause
Now we will fall upon our swords
The Shaman pays homage to Solomon
He orders them to send the witchdoctor in, then asked me to rhyme again
Every now and then I get retarded and spit
I would like to apologize to every artist I dissed
Everybody assumes that I wanna rhyme when I don't
Sometimes I just wanna chill and watch you flow
Mysteries of the cathedral, the dark overlords are evil
Ripped out the vocal cords of the people
I walk up to your bed side in disguise with red eyes
And tell you to remember these rhymes
This is the season of Hip Hop, believe it or not
I lined it up with the planet's equinox.

Bilderburgh Cold Case feat. Canibus
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Fred went on a hunch. Two other musical references had been mentioned in The Art of Yo. First was Cyndi Lauper. Fred pulled up the first return from Youtube:


Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
And think of you
Caught up in circles
Confusion is nothing new
Flashback, warm nights
Almost left behind
Suitcases of memories,
Time after
Sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me, I can't hear
What you've said
Then you say, go slow
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds
If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time
If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time
After my picture fades and darkness has
Turned to gray
Watching through windows
You're wondering if I'm okay
Secrets stolen from deep inside
The drum beats out of time
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
The song from Montana was a curious synchronicity but the song that played after was even more so!


Canibus - The Art of Yo ft K-Rino & Born Son

Bastard style with no father tryna claim the kid
I called it X 'cause I ain't even tryna name the shit
Sundullah, you see me on the stage with Rip
Nitrogen lungs yo my tongue mix propane with spit
And I'm nice, the voice of Christ resurrected through mics
Son of God, Son of Man, helping some of y'all will overstand
Crash the Vatican as soon as I land
I'm 'bout to set it on in the gulf of Adan
I stand in the Garden of Eden, unbeaten, undefeated
I tweeted pictures of Eve, tonguing cheeses
Scientology guides put my rhymes on photography slides
To quantify the higher knowledge applied
But I'm an uncaged animal channeling Hannibal
A cannibal, bite your head off and hand it to you
SpitBoss, centrifugal force different from yours
The Sun is Born, this is Lyrical Law, Yo!!!

I've never been a friendly author,
don't need a gangster beat to make me off ya,
I'll slaughter ya while playing Cyndi Lauper

Better than y'all, give me one competitive brawl
I throw a hundred miles an hour with a medicine ball
I'll melt your fortress down to caramel softness
Drive a charger through ya torso, parallel park it
That cosmic ray beam effect, I Hiroshima wreck
Rap disaster so tragic they gave his ass a FEMA check
Cadence is radiant, I predated Arcadians
I stayed with the brigade of alien etho-sapiens
Hit your through the atrium of heavenly light
Once I smite you, like a left arm you'll never be right
I've used every word possible to let you know what I can do
So I made something new, I'll collipherously clobber you
You ain't legitimate, you posing like a model do
I'll throttle you, liquidate and sixteen ounce bottle you

I'm tryna figure out, who this nigga barking at?
Before his heart gets snatched, run up on him in a stocking cap
Keep barking like you hard, get stalked and clapped
Come in the cage you get stomped on the mat
Carve your name in the axe, then chop you in the back
Hack off your femur bones, beat you with them like bats
Put your remains in saran wrap, dump them in an alcohol vat
You can rap but you ain't all that

Step inside, close the door, fuck you yelling for?
Kick your head off, now it's rolling on the floor like a bowling ball
Open the door, clean this fucking mess off my wall
And don't ever mention his name no more
You dig? you follow me nigga, I follow you quicker
You got a weak ticker, told you not to fuck with the Ripper
Have you showing your true colours, drinking blood from ya liver
You a dickrider and you an Indian giver
Waging war with some gorillas, I'll bludgeon you by the river
The park ranger is pissing he gon find you while he's fishing
Fistula face, herpes simplex outbreak
Alienated aliens get ate by alien apes
You food nigga, throw yourself over the gate
How does alien taste? Like mammalian waste
You ain't swift. You's a dumb fuck
I'll have you breathing like your lungs got struck by two-hundred pound nunchucks
Brave motherfuckers get slayed for Hip Hop if you love it

Like Kill Bill between a hundred gay lovers

I'm the illest nigga say something...
Yeah I thought so, shut the fuck up things will go back to normal
I ain't happy tho, now I'm in battle mode

The president of Hip Hop with mad motherfuckers on the grassy Knoll

I take it back to my Curriculum days
What you say? I body you in meticulous ways
Cos you thought I was a donut, you tried to glaze
Let me tell you something, don't pop shit fistula face
Battle league nigga, talking shit's for amateurs nigga
Goddammit, y'all living off fantasies nigga
You wanna battle that bad? aight go get your camera
When it's my turn, I got a four and a half pound answer
When I was young, I took down hard targets

You a sausage nigga, for coming at me like a novice
You never heard 'Fraternity of the Impoverished'?
Motherfucker, can't you see that I'm an artist?
I don't want them childish problems
Lyrical manslaughter charges interfere with my Lyrical Law process
Out rap me? that's preposterous, metaphor marksman mudswamping
We hunt down Hip Hop monsters
Skin 'em alive tie their carcass to the bottom of my Polaris
And drive them all the way to Wisconsin
Partner, fuck around, throw your ass under the bus face down
Lay down, we gonna wait for this greyhound

The fuck you gonna say now?

Do me a favor, stop weighing me down
Fucking clown, Lyrical Law is too muscle bound
Houdini style nigga, just struggle and drown
Get it over with you can never fuck with my style
You got raped nigga, you bleeding, don't touch my towel
You can spit them wack juice punchline lines all you want
But don't front, bottom line, I'm the champ, you a chump
You can spit your stupid punchlines all you want
But after this the whole world gonna see who won
That's what you wanted right? get the fuck off my mic!


Feb. 21st, 2017 11:14 pm
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Fred had been waiting for the dawn. His phone was overloaded with messages and email since the image had leaked onto the web. People were getting furious over the ramifications. Many more people were beginning to get curious. Even motivated. One of his emails was particularly inspiring, stating the that the information had given her a new found hope. A new reason to live.
Fred thought of something he had read years ago. It was an article that discussed the importance of vocabulary. The writer described that people with a larger vocabulary set were generally happier in life because they had more words to define their perception of the universe. People with a limited vocabulary had less terms to define things, therefore their concepts of the universe were limited in scope. Which increased the likelihood of depression, lack of imagination and anxiety issues.
The concept were as deep as the ocean but Fred had known about the image for years; for him it was old news. He was far beyond in the "Theory of the Cube" by now. He needed to let the "Machinations of Men" work their course. Fred chuckled thinking, "Funny how a small breath could cause a hurricane." he lit another smoke and coughed upon inhaling. "Damn." he thought. "If it wasn't corporate espionage that would eventually kill him, it would be these fucking cigarettes that did."

Fred was waiting in front of the Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas. He was contemplating the concept of idols versus so called "false" idols. Was an image of Buddha a false idol? Technically no. Most the statues of Buddha look similar. They all seem to depict his likeness. This made sense considering plenty of art and written depictions of Buddha were drafted while Buddha was still walking around. But the Christians and Jesus? That seemed to be another matter entirely.

Most Christian churches that Fred had ever been in had paintings of Jesus on the wall. For the most part, Jesus looked similar in all the artwork Fred had seen. A caucasian, with long wavy locks and a beard. What were the odds that Jesus was white? What were the odds that Jesus was even his real name? Jesus meant "little Zeus", so why don't preachers address this fact? Why don't preachers ever talk about the present avatar of the Christ being based off a painting distributed to American soldiers during WW2? Those depictions are a false portrait. Yet most Christian churches around the world have this avatar pronominally displayed as their main focal point. Fred had seen hundreds drop to their knees before this false idol and pray to it. Wasn't that sacrilege? Didn't the Biblical Jesus say to pray to his Father in Heaven? Then why did people pray to a statue?

According to pagan and occult studies Fred had studied, praying to a statue charges that statue. Which meant that most peoples prayers in church were being misdirected to a material object?

Who knows? But it gave Fred and interesting thought. "If there was such a technology, I wonder if a metal crucifix could have advanced equipment attached to it and "catch" or "read" people's prayers?" Whoa. Crazy thought, he let it go into the ether. Philosophies were never concrete. It was all too subjective and abstract. People would argue for years over the particulars, even willing to go to war over words written thousands of years ago. Where people just gullible and stupid? Or was there really something to all of this dogma? Well, that was why he was at an Oriental Temple. He wanted an outside perspective. Since it was only 06:00, he had to wait for the monks to come out of their sleeping chambers.

Bored, Fred began to day dream. The sun had not risen just yet but was pushing the darkness back across the vault. His breath steaming the in cold morning air, Fred opened his phone. He was cold. But he was glad he still wasn't back in Montana. That place was really cold at this time of year. Being in a frigid California morning in February was nothing compared to a February morning in Montana. He thought back to his days there as a painter. It was remote and quite. There were no friends or family to pester him and he didn't go out much. It was a perfect place to get a lot of painting done. And he had too. In about eight months time Fred had painted nine quality pieces that would have made great prints or shirts. Only he didn't remember where they were now. That was before his accident. Now he had the military and the collective on his back and there wasn't time to dabble in paints anymore. Even if he hated the weather, he did miss Montana. He opened his phone to a surprise. The first notification on his phone had something to do with none other than Montana! He clicked the link:

Mr. Montana written and performed by G.W. a.k.a. Canibus
Published on Feb 21, 2017

Yo, Montana?

He didn’t, he didn’t pick up, uh
Let me try, let me try to get him on the line first and then once I have him, I’ll send you a message telling you to call me back

Mr. Montana, I missed your message
You wouldn’t understand what I’ve been dealin’ with brethren
The sand glass is empty and I ain’t got faith in nothin’
So I can’t pick up, I’m in a bunker

You never fronted, never sold me out
I apologize but that's not what this is about
This is about the direction the world's spinning in
Occupy Hip Hop with Lisa Fithian*
The powers that be are preparing for something
They definitely ain't preparing for nothing
I've been saying in my music for years
I tried to educate the audience - my peers
I tried to build with my brothers and sisters

Regardless of color or ethnic religion

Regardless of any financial position
It's tougher than talking to a brick wall
Looking for help to build an Ark before Babylon fall
The fate of humanity is tailor-made
We stuck between a rock and a razor blade
No substance - drunken - blinded by consumption
Marching towards our own destruction
Unawares, unprepared

Open they back - looking for spine, nothing's there, just fear

The horrible beauty, humanity deserves it
To be mass murdered - look at what they worship
Slaves and yet none of this pleases me
You know what I say, "The Dead got it easy"
We're Slaves and yet none of this pleases me
You know what I say, "The Dead got it easy"

Peace Nasir**, I missed your message
You wouldn’t understand what I’ve been dealin’ with brethren
The sand glass is empty and I ain’t got faith in nothin’
So I can’t pick up, I’m in a bunker

I can’t pick up, I’m in a bunker
The underground ain’t got nearly enough substance

Conspiracy Worldwide sterilized
Alternative media radio stations got fired
All these little rappers still got dreams
They talk big money but they got beans

The ones who got more they got more because they got yours
Either or they was on all fours
They're all just a bunch of whores

Security can't even afford lunch when they go on tour
The whole worlds a stage, all the way back to the Bronze Age
Man ain't a damn thing changed
So I don't care what they talkin' bout
They lie so much they ain't even worth calling out

They so far past being watered down they got cotton mouth
Bout to be starving from drought
Rap no longer educates the listener
Rap Music just Pacifies prisoners

A Bat is just a flying Rat, you a lying piece of crap
Underground rap, nothing but a trap
You saved the world and they don't even know your name, God.
Rap Music ain't got no graveyard
I wouldn't wanna' be buried there anyway
Fuck YouTube and pennies they pay
You see Montana? This what we up against
If this is all we got, then we ain't got nothing left
Hip Hop used to communicate ideas
That's right I got some smart ideas
I'm gettin' older and in all my years
I never thought music would manifest all my fears

Mr. Montana, I missed your message
You wouldn’t understand what I’ve been dealin’ with brethren
The sand glass is empty and I ain’t got faith in nothin’
So I can’t pick up, I’m in a bunker

I can’t pick up, I’m in a bunker
I told you, the underground ain’t worth nothin’
The underground ain’t got nearly enough substance

* Lisa Fithian is an American political activist and protest organizer. She began her work in the mid-1970s as a member of student government in her high school and at Skidmore College.

**Nazir is a Redguard member of the Dark Brotherhood of the Elder Scrolls universe. By Bethesda Studios. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pql29L1xpz4
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Published on Feb 20, 2017: performed by Lana Del Rey


Look at you kids with your vintage music
Comin' through satellites while cruisin'
You're part of the past, but now you're the future
Signals crossing can get confusing

It's enough just to make you feel crazy, crazy, crazy
Sometimes, it's enough just to make you feel crazy

You get ready, you get all dressed up
To go nowhere in particular
Back to work or the coffee shop
Doesn't matter cause it's enough
To be young and in love (ah, ah)
To be young and in love (ah, ah)

Look at you kids, you know you're the coolest
The world is yours and you can't refuse it
Seen so much, you could get the blues
But that don't mean that you should abuse it

Though It's enough just to make you go crazy, crazy, crazy
I know, it's enough just to make you go crazy, crazy, crazy

But you get ready, you get all dressed up
To go nowhere in particular
Back to work or the coffee shop
It don't matter because it's enough
To be young and in love (ah, ah)
To be young and in love (ah, ah)

Don't worry, baby

And It's enough just to make me go crazy, crazy, crazy
It's enough just to make me go crazy, crazy, crazy

I get ready, I get all dressed up
To go nowhere in particular
It doesn't matter if I'm not enough
For the future or the things to come
'Cause I'm young and in love (ah, ah)
I'm young and in love (ah, ah)
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Follow your heart.


Lana Del Ray

"Born To Die"

Who me?

Feet don’t fail me now
Take me to the finish line
Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take
But I’m hoping at the gates,
They’ll tell me that you’re mine

Walking through the city streets
Is it by mistake or design?
I feel so alone on the Friday nights
Can you make it feel like home, if I tell you you’re mine?
It's like I told you honey

Don’t make me sad, don’t make me cry
Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough
I don’t know why
Keep making me laugh, let’s go get high
The road is long, we carry on
Try to have fun in the meantime

Come and take a walk on the wild side
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain
You like your girls insane
Choose your last words
This is the last time
'Cause you and I, we were born to die

Lost but now I am found
I can see but once I was blind
I was so confused as a little child
Tried to take what I could get
Scared that I couldn't find
All the answers honey

Don’t make me sad, don’t make me cry
Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough
I don’t know why
Keep making me laugh
Let's go get high
The road is long, we carry on
Try to have fun in the meantime

Come and take a walk on the wild side
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain
You like your girls insane
Choose your last words,
This is the last time
'Cause you and I
We were born to die [3x]

Come and take a walk on the wild side
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain
You like your girls insane

So don’t make me sad, don’t make me cry
Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough
I don’t know why
Keep making me laugh
Let's go get high
The road is long, we carry on
Try to have fun in the meantime

Come and take a walk on the wild side
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain
You like your girls insane...
Choose your last words,
This is the last time
'Cause you and I
We were born to die
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Someplace near the Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas in Ukiah California Fred sits rolling a doob. He had issues now. Aiguo had stolen his image. Fred couldn't pretend that he didn't know that there were risks but he reminded himself that initially the risk was to himself ONLY. It was the heart and actions of others that has lead to the current state of affairs. He was not to blame for locked doors opening from the other side. The aftermath reddens the hands of the guilty parties; no other. Whatever the Collective planned on doing with his work was FAR out of his hands now.

His thoughts flinched. Yes, Fred knew how high the stakes had been raised. He knew that despite his best intent "the machinations of other men" would derail a good thing. Now he knew several people would suffer his hands now. And for what? A game that isn't even real? What a notion!

"Remember this. You made me." he thought. And now the most sacred of your offerings is just a shell of the dream, by YOUR HANDS. Fred accepted his fate. Have they? The cries of protest and the gnashing of teeth will only reenforce his position now.

The Church leaders would be furious of course, this was to be expected. It was the crossfire that was the point of interest. Look at them all backstab each other! Seamlessly knitting together as if it was planned. The whole point of going to that church and reliving some history was a simple plan. Bankers know it well.

Now that those people are eating each other up, Fred had a whole new paradigm. A new monkey wrench. A new way to think outside of the cube. Now for every equation an asterisk has been added.

Why is God spelled backwards "dog"? Because God is mans best friend? Or is it that man should be as obedient to God as a dog to man? Or maybe this was all just philosophy and dogma? Maybe God wasn't even real?

Makes you wonder.
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
By Fiona Apple:

I've been a bad, bad girl
I've been careless with a delicate man
And it's a sad, sad world
When a girl will break a boy just because she can

Don't you tell me to deny it
I've done wrong and I want to suffer for my sins
I've come to you 'cause I need guidance to be true
And I just don't know where I can begin

What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love

Heaven help me for the way I am
Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done
I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand
But I keep living this day like the next will never come

Oh help me but don't tell me to deny it
I've got to cleanse myself of all these lies 'till I'm good enough for him
I've got a lot to lose and I'm bettin' high so I'm begging you
Before it ends just tell me where to begin

What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love

Let me know the way
Before there's hell to pay
Give me room to lay the law and let me go
I've got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So what would an angel say the devil wants to know

What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love

What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love

Wet Dream

Feb. 19th, 2017 01:48 pm
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Angela had been singing. She had drawn a hot bath, lit some candles and some incense. Fred had been gone for a week and all she had heard from him came in the form of some hip-hop songs. The print-outs he had left behind must have been just more of that conspiracy theory garbage. She didn't believe it, or care for it. She had realized he was having a hard time adjusting since his accident. She figured he must have been doing something important to reclaim his memories.

She turned the bathroom light off, letting the soft yellow flickers of flame illuminate the room. She then dropped her robe and slid into the warm, steaming bath. She began to sing. She sang and sang. The warm water began to slowly change its vibrational state. For you see, the song she was singing was a secret song. It had been taught to her at a very young age and after awhile her singing subsided into a hum. Before she knew it, she was asleep and dreaming.

She was looking down. Her bare feet were dangling. She was sitting on a branch in a tree high above a sunny field of grass and daffodils. The sky was perfectly blue. A smile stretched across her face and she threw up her arms. A mild breeze blew through her hair. She let a delightful laugh slip out of her lips. Suddenly she began to fly.

Weightlessness is a funny thing. To feel gravity release from tired and weary bones was a thrill and thoroughly intoxicating. Angela flew up high and higher. At the peak of her ascent she looked towards the earth. She could see green swaths of grass, and yellow patches of flowers. From this height, the trees looked like tiny twigs and the forrest like brown carpet. She surveyed the land before looking to the vast blue sky again. It was too blue she thought. Suddenly wisps of white vapor began swirling about. The vapor began forming into clouds. With just the suggestion of thought, Angela could move and shape the puffy clouds as she wished. She played with this new found power for some time until finally willing the clouds to form a deep-set throne under her. Her head lifted, chin pointing high. She felt an overwhelming since of serenity.

In the distance, Angela noticed something swirling through the clouds. At first she thought it was just a fast moving wisp, except it had been weaving through the clouds. As she zoned in on the object she could finally identify it. It was a white, snake like dragon circling through the cumulus. As she noticed it, it started to sew its way towards her. The more it slid through the vapors, the more it reminded her of a snake in water. The dragon would disappear underneath a puff of white only to emerge closer to her. Before long the dragon was before her, curling into a coil, it cocked its head to meet her gaze. The dragon reminded her of an Oriental dragon or even "Falkor" from the movie "The Never Ending Story". The dragons mouth opened slightly revealing sharp, pearly teeth. The dragon spoke but no words came from its mouth.

"I have a very important communiqué for you dear." It's voice was mesmerizing. "I have been sent to you to relay the following message: Fredrick Mudi has fallen into despair. He was once an angel of light, now he stagnates in the muck of of his own subconscious. Darker than you can imagine, his mind is in danger of imploding. The forces of time and space have stretched his soul thin and he is one good defeat away from disintegration. He has come so far yet is still so far away. Nearly everything he has tried in this world has failed. Time and time again he has failed. He is unaware that every one of his defeats, failures and sorrows are a culmination of strict training.
If you were to imagine God as a blacksmith, then imagine your soul as a glowing, red hot piece of metal. Every failure you have experienced has seemed as if it was God himself striking you. Again and again the the hammer of Thor has struck you down. Many people are not aware that this is the only possible way to forge the souls of his chosen. Your soul is part of God's armory. And every hit from the smith's hammer is another fine tuning of his righteous blade. You are being forged.
Your lover Fredrick is also being forged in this way. You two have been chosen for this task. There are no others in this present dimension who could withstand this type of tempering. You both have suffered immensely. My message to you is that you are not alone. Fredrick is not alone. You have one another and above all you have the source. Forget not. You manifest the will of the creator for light or the dark. You will reap all that you have sown. Grow your garden with love, reason, justice and your harvest shall be more than plentiful. Fall into hate, deception or malice and your reward will be that of blight, desecration and decay. Love banishes all of these negative traits. Love heals most all wounds. Love is the only truth in this realm. Forget not. Now awaken child, he is coming back for you." Out of the blue, the dragon gradually faded into invisibility and Angela suddenly awoke.

The water was cold. The incense had fallen to ash. Her candles had burnt halfway down and she began to get goosebumps. Pulling the drain, she got out of the tub, dried her sleek body and tucked herself into her robe. Had she been dreaming? Something about flying she knew but the details had already slipped into oblivion. She began to wonder again what Fred had been up to? With a shrug of her shoulders, she turned her mind to happier thoughts and began to sing another song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mGH19_KjWY0

"Kiss me hard before you go
Summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know
That baby you're the best
I got my red dress on tonight
Dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight
Got my hair up real big beauty queen style
High heels off, I'm feeling alive
Oh, my God, I feel it in the air
Telephone wires above all sizzlin' like your stare
Honey I'm on fire I feel it everywhere
Nothing scares me anymore
Kiss me hard before you go
Summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know
That baby you're the best
I've got that summertime, summertime sadness
Summertime, summertime sadness
Got that summertime, summertime sadness
Oh, oh
I'm feelin' electric tonight
Cruising down the coast goin' 'bout 99
Got my bad baby by my heavenly side
I know if I go, I'll die happy tonight
Oh, my God, I feel it in the air
Telephone wires above all sizzlin' like your stare
Honey I'm on fire I feel it everywhere
Nothing scares me anymore
Kiss me hard before you go
Summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know
That baby you're the best
I've got that summertime, summertime sadness
Summertime, summertime sadness
Got that summertime, summertime sadness
Oh, oh
I think I'll miss you forever
Like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies
Late is better than never
Even if you're gone I'm gonna drive, drive
I've got that summertime, summertime sadness
Summertime, summertime sadness
Got that summertime, summertime sadness
Oh, oh
Kiss me hard before you go
Summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know
That baby you're the best
I've got that summertime, summertime sadness
Summertime, summertime sadness
Got that summertime, summertime sadness"

Songwriters: Elizabeth Grant / Rick Nowels
Performed by: Lana Del Rey
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Fred had been on a long stretch of road. He was someplace off of interstate 5, near Empire Mine in California. His phone had no reception in these hills and he was not a local; therefore he was lost. He had been listening to some talk radio program heading east. The radio host mentioned the upcoming radio program entitled "Transgressions of Atom". The host then mentioned that the show would be upcoming in five minutes before cutting to commercials. He turned the radio down. Fred glanced to the blue numbered clock on his dash. It was five forty five. He would have to wait fifteen minutes.

So much had been bouncing around his head. Primarily the missing memories in his brain. Secondly the serenity of peace that came with amnesia's ignorance and thirdly, that he may have just unintentionally birthed the one world religion. He began imagining dominos, like a chain reaction, falling one by one into place.

"The Christian folks would go wild."
"The archeologists would debunk."
"The geologists would deny."
"The Hebrews would make prophecy."
"The atheists would nervously reconsider."
"The Muslims would vouch."
"The smithsonian would plead the 5th."
"The Satanists would rejoice."

By the time Fred had recapitulated his list of the western worlds religions it was a minute to 16:00. He turned the radio up. He was expecting to hear one thing but heard another entirely. The radio programing coming on air was titled "The History of Rocky Road Ice Cream."

That wasn't right. He checked the dial on the radio. It was set to to proper channel and it was the proper time but where was that science program? What was it? Oh yeah, it was called "Transgressions of Atom". He wondered why the program had changed? Then it dawned on him. The night he had blacked out! His phone had been drained of all battery. Maybe the vehicles clock was wrong because of some type of power surge, or gap? He had to pull over. When he had stopped at the gas station previously, he had removed his jacket and tossed it in the back. He couldn't reach it while driving, so he pulled in at the upcoming reststop. Parking, he popped the back hatch and retrieved his coat. As he pulled the coat out, a book and his phone fell to the asphalt with a violent tumble. Fred cringed. "Not the phone!"

As he reached for the phone he thought, "If I was just feeling good and "flying high", dropping that phone felt like free falling thirty thousand feet!" He looked to the screen. With a smattering of relief, he saw that the phone had not cracked. He grabbed the book from the pavement, closed the hatch and was returning to the drivers seat when he paused... His phone said "17:02". Befuddled he slumped into his seat comparing the dash clock with his phone. "How in the..." He looked to the book in his hand. The title was "Heroes, Villains and Fools". The book was slightly open to page ninety three. Distracted, he began to read:

Importance of social typing
by Orrin E. Klapp 1962:

"People in public life feel typing as a powerful force. It is a key to their
failures and successes. Unfavorable typing can "dog" a celebrity through
out his career. In my opinion, it was unfavorable typing more than any
thing else that caused the defeat of Thomas E. Dewey as a Presidential
candidate in 1948. Richard Nixon, also, was impeded in his candidacy for
President in i960 by unfavorable typing. Both of these men have lived
lives as correct as one has a right to expect a politician's to be and
considerably more exemplary than those of many American favorites.
Favorable or unfavorable, an almost inevitable result of the typing
process is that a public personage has at least two selves. People build up
an image that satisfies them. Celebrities typically feel that they have a
public self that is different from what they feel themselves to be. Of
course, anyone may have this experience; but it is aggravated by the
intense and continuous force of popular typing as well as studio build
ups and public relations techniques which foster and create images.
Movie stars complain of restrictions on their private lives by the demands
of the public image. We notice, for example, that Kim Novak cries and
shows frustration from "the system" which manipulates her life; she is
rigorously supervised, told whom to date and whom not to date; her name
was changed from Marilyn to Kim (to avoid similarity to the public image
of Marilyn Monroe); she is one of the most recent versions of the screen
goddess—a human being who has been converted into a piece of valuable
property. Again, Marlene Dietrich, at fifty-five, projects an image of
glamor, with the help of make-up, massage, and dresses costing $12,000 —
the image of a "world weary woman"—but in real life a friend describes
her as "an old German shoe."
The mystery of why some celebrities are severely criticized and others
receive no blame for (are even helped by) the same kind of conduct is,
in my opinion, largely a matter of getting out of touch with one's public
self. As is well known, misbehavior does no great harm to some
entertainers (the dope-scandals of Gene Krupa and Robert Mitchum, the
alcoholism of John Barrymore). Others may be taken to task for minor
faults. A television singer, Eddie Fisher, lost his sponsorship after six
seasons on NBC because of a falling off of rating, due in good part to a
love triangle of comparatively innocent proportions as triangles go
breaking an idyllic marriage with Debbie Reynolds to marry glamorous
"Liz" Taylor. Countless stars have gotten by with worse; it is even expected
of some of them, but Eddie, somehow, got characterized as a
"sneak" in the minds of many Americans. It seems plain that were it not
for the type established by his "idyllic" first marriage and fatherhood
(belonging to that species of marriage illustrated in the popular mind by
Doug Fairbanks and Mary Pickford) and the ballyhoo of this theme by
television and magazines, fans would not have been so outraged by a
typical American readjustment. The key to the mystery, I say, is staying
in contact with the nature of the established type (through feedback in
the form of fan mail, and so on), and acting consistently with it in public.
The same standards are not applied to all—even in the same field or
profession. Consequently, when a person's career depends upon a public
image, a type-analysis is called for. He must know his type to know
what criticisms he is vulnerable to, and also what other types might be
alternatives (conversions) within the social type system, that could change
his character for better or worse."

hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)

1.) Morning Star Lake: A.) a bright planet, especially Venus, when visible in the east before sunrise. Symbolised by the Pentagram. B.)The Septuagint renders הֵילֵל in Greek as ἑωσφόρος (heōsphoros), a name, literally "bringer of dawn", for the morning star. The word Lucifer is taken from the Latin Vulgate, which translates הֵילֵל as lucifer, meaning "the morning star, the planet Venus", or, as an adjective, "light-bringing".

2.) Ward Peak: noun: A.) a separate room in a hospital, typically one allocated to a particular type of patient.
"a children's ward" synonyms: room, department, unit, area, wing "the surgical ward" B.) an administrative division of a city or borough that typically elects and is represented by a councilor or councilors. synonyms: district, constituency, division, quarter, zone, parish C.) Verb: archaic; guard; protect.

3.) Olympic Peak: A.)adjective of or relating to the ancient city of Olympia or the Olympic Games. B.) No mortal could visit Mount Olympus. C.) Olympia. A plain of southern Greece in the northwest Peloponnesus. It was a religious center devoted to the worship of Zeus and the site of the ancient Olympic Games. The statue of the Olympian Zeus by Phidias was one of the Seven Wonders of the World. D.) Jesus translates as "Little Zeus".

4.) Twin Peaks: Twin Peaks is an American television serial drama created by Mark Frost and David Lynch. It follows an investigation headed by FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) into the murder of homecoming queen Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) in the fictional town of Twin Peaks, Washington. Its pilot episode was broadcast on April 8, 1990 on ABC. Seven more episodes were produced, and the series was renewed for a second season that aired until June 10, 1991.

Twin Peaks explores the gulf between the veneer of small-town respectability and the seedier life beneath. As the series progresses, the inner darkness of characters who initially appeared innocent is revealed, and they are seen to lead double lives. Its unsettling tone and supernatural features are consistent with horror films,

5.) Pluto: Roman god of the underworld, from Latin Pluto, Pluton, from Greek Plouton "god of wealth," literally "wealth, riches," probably originally "overflowing," from PIE *pleu- "to flow" (see pluvial).

6.) Heaven's Gate: Gate to Heaven or/ Heaven's Gate was an American UFO religious millenarian group based in San Diego, California, founded in the early 1970s and led by Marshall Applewhite (1931–1997) and Bonnie Nettles (1927–1985).

7.) Devil's Peak: (in Christian and Jewish belief) the chief evil spirit; Satan. synonyms: Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness, the Evil One; informal old Nick.

8.) Hellhole: an oppressive or unbearable place.

9.) Van Vleck: J. H. van Vleck established the fundamentals of the quantum mechanical theory of magnetism and the crystal field theory (chemical bonding in metal complexes). He is regarded as the Father of Modern Magnetism.

During World War II, J. H. van Vleck worked on radar at the MIT Radiation Lab. He was half time at the Radiation Lab and half time on the staff at Harvard. He showed that at about 1.25-centimeter wavelength water molecules in the atmosphere would lead to troublesome absorption and that at 0.5-centimeter wavelength there would be a similar absorption by oxygen molecules. This was to have important consequences not just for military (and civil) radar systems but later for the new science of radio astronomy.

J. H. van Vleck participated in the Manhattan Project. In June 1942, J. Robert Oppenheimer held a summer study for confirming the concept and feasibility of nuclear weapon at the University of California, Berkeley. Eight theoretical scientists, including J. H. van Vleck, attended it. From July to September, the theoretical study group examined and developed the principles of atomic bomb design.

J. H. van Vleck's theoretical work led to establish the Los Alamos Nuclear Weapons Laboratory. He also served on the Los Alamos Review committee in 1943. The committee, established by General Leslie Groves, also consisted of W.K. Lewis of MIT, Chairman; E.L. Rose, of Jones & Lamson; E.B. Wilson of Harvard; and Richard C. Tolman, Vice Chairman of NDRC. The committee's important contribution (originating with Rose) was a reduction in the size of the firing gun for the Little Boy atomic bomb, a concept which eliminated additional design-weight and sped up production of the bomb for its eventual release over Hiroshima. However it was not employed for the Fat Man bomb at Nagasaki, which relied on implosion of a plutonium shell to reach critical mass.

New Albion

Feb. 17th, 2017 02:55 pm
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Starbucks was packed. Fred hated standing in lines. His whole body and mind phrenetic. He hated typical social interactions. It was all shallow talk.

Hello. How are you?

Good; and yourself?


Boom. That was where more conversations ended than not. Unless a stranger was brave enough to talk about weather, their work, or how long a wait this fucking line was. He didn't have time for shallow, watered down conversations. It was the end of days and if he wasn't being approached by superheroes or supervillains, he didn't want to speak with you (at least at the moment). So that was why he nearly excoriated the person that had just tugged on his arm. That was until he turned around to see who it was.

Standing before Fred was a young Asian kid in dark rimmed spectacles. He was most likely an older teenager judging by his expensive and trendy clothes. He had white, plastic coated wires streaming up from his waist to the earbuds in his ears. His hair was spiked off to the right, like those anime characters in comics. He was holding an Apple computer to his chest with both hands. The kid had a finger on either side wedged between the keyboard and screen. Fred immediately knew he was keeping the computer from hibernating. Somehow, this was Fred's cue to soften his scowl and bite his sharp tongue. "Yes?" Fred spoke.

"Hello Mr. Mudi" the boys voice clearly American english. "I followed you here from the congregation after you spoke. I have many questions regarding the pamphlets you distributed. May I offer to buy your coffee?"

Fred dropped his head, rolled his eyes, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose simultaneously. Looking back to the little-trendster he said "Not here and thanks kid but I got it. We should chat outside." A space opened in the line and Fred shuffled forward.

"Oh I insist Mr. Mudi. According to my file on you, you make far less money yearly than I make quarterly. So this one is on me. Besides, I already ordered my straight black with your hot mocha on my app." The boy raised his eyebrows and pointed behind Fred.

Fred turned to see the employee placing the last lid on one of the two coffees before her. "Fred and Aiguo, your coffee is ready!" she shouted amongst the thrall. Fred raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Aiguo" moved past the snaking line to collect the drinks. Turning with a wide smile, Aiguo walked passed Fred nodding towards the exit. With a slight "Hhmmmph" Fred trailed behind him.

It felt good to be outside. Not only was the crowd gone but the sun was actually shining for once! Fred lit a cigarette, totally disregarding the no smoking sign and the other patrons; present company included. Boy-trendy took to a table in the sun. He placed the coffees on the hexagonal table and extended his hand, "I'm..."

"Aiguo" Fred cut off as he firmly gripped the boys hand, shaking it. "I heard it inside" Fred sat with a plop and blew smoke out at the kid. "Let's cut through the shit shall we? Who are you really? And what do you want?"

Not even phased, Aiguo responded "Well you see Mr. Mudi..."

"Fred" he corrected.

Aiguo sat a little straighter, "Well you see Fred, I'm Aiguo Sīkōng and I represent a multinational conglomerate of syndicated libraries. Due to the nature of our pursuits and interests, I cannot give you my companies real name. But you can call us "The Sīmǎ Collective." Aiguo pulled a card from underneath his scarf, inside his gray cardigan vest. He extended the card to Fred.

Taking the card, Fred read it over. At first he didn't care so much for reading the text on the card. He was more interested in what the logo was. It was a coiling Chinese dragon printed in red. He glared at it for a moment, his eyes narrowing. He was looking through the image, into the negative space. It only took a few seconds then "POP" the logo "transformed" into the head of a horned demon. Fred leaned over fetching his wallet. He tried to speak as he filed the card into his billfold but Aiguo slipped in. "In your presentation today... or should I call it a sermon?" He waited for Fred to react which was null and void. "Anyhow, you gave an aphoristic overview of western religious ideology. You produced some images while speaking but they are not included in the pamphlets which you gave out. I'm here about those images and to get your take on the Asian philosophical belief systems."

Fred seemed amused as he spoke. "Those images are not to be released. The world isn't ready yet."

Aiguo responded. "What if I told you that we would be willing to purchase them?"

Fred frowned, "How old are you anyways? Sixteen?" he took a sip from his mocha.

At that Aiguo smiled. "Actually fifteen. I'll be sixteen next month."

Shaking his head, Fred spoke again. "Those images are not for sale."

"We will give you ten thousand dollars for the lot." Aiguo said.

"NOT FOR SALE!" Fred scowled.

Aiguo bartered down. "Ok. How about just one then? The one of Nor-Cal. I'll get you five grand for it."

"Are you kidding? That's worth a few million at least!" Fred blurted. "Why do you want it so bad anyhow?"

"You know why Mr. Mudi... I mean Fred. That image is explosive and will change the face of the earth. So to speak. May I see it?"

Fred knew the kid was right. He replied "Only if you put that phone and computer away".

If it were even possible, Aiguo sat up even straighter feigning surprise. "Why?"

Eyebrows collapsing into a black hole, Fred spoke. "You know why." In such a tone that the trendy-hipster complied without hesitation nor dissent. When the boy had placed the laptop and phone neatly on the ground, Fred reached into his leather jacket and produced a manilla envelope. He rifled through before pulling out a single piece of paper. He turned the paper around and slid it across the table top, fingers never leaving the edge. He let the boy look for approximately five seconds before snatching the paper back. He put it back into the envelope and then back into his jacket. Standing, he extended his hand. Aiguo looked confused but took his hand despite. Firmly shaking, Fred said, "I have your card and you obviously have mine. If your company is truly interested in these images, tell them that check better fatten up. Nice to meet you Mr. Sīkōng." Fred took a sip on his coffee and strode away. He never looked back.

Aiguo quickly grabbed his phone and pc. He pulled some black cable from his pocket. Opening the Mac, he typed some commands taking a victory sip of his coffee. He plugged the cable into the Mac. He then took his thick framed glasses off and plugged the cable into the glasses themselves. Aiguo sipped some more coffee, typed a few more commands and then unplugged his glasses. He put them away in his pocket. He sipped a bit more coffee. He then plugged his phone into the cable and began texting with a grin.

About ten minutes down the road and Fred got a text.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Mudi - Aiguo"
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Someplace in the lowlands of the west.

Fred steps out of a church. Behind him several people are asking him questions, hanging on his previously spoken words. The conglomeration of voices, drowning any coherency. Raising his hands, pleading for them to simmer, he spoke thusly:

"Yes. They are all ONE and THE SAME. Like that movie Looper with Bruce Willis. The Older Man played by Willis is named Joe. The young Joe played by Joseph Leonard Gordon-Levitt is the present paradigm of Joe. The "RAINMAKER" played by Pierce Gagnon (watchout for his shout!) is the future. The trick is... all three characters are ONE. Just check out the pamphlets I gave you and have a discussion with your Priest(s). It will sink in. We are in this together. I have to hurry now." With that, Fred quickly vanished from the crowd. He wanted to drive to Starbucks.

hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Again a beep on her phone:

“The leaks are absolutely real,” Trump said. “The news is fake.”

Trump was asked by CNN’s Jim Acosta about the disconnect the president sees between the leaks and the news that comes out of them.

In response, the president painted himself as a savvy media insider.

“Here’s the problem: The public, they read newspapers, they see television, but they don’t know if it’s true or false, because they’re not involved,” Trump said. “I’m involved. I’ve been involved with this stuff all my life. But I’m involved, so I know when you’re telling the truth and when you’re not.”

Trump also criticized the tone of the media’s coverage.

hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Angela's phone beeped. A youtube link had appeared on her phone. She clicked the link:


Me and Zbigniew, sitting in a igloo
Sippin' shark's fin soup, bring the King through

Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave
Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave
Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave

Hardware interpret software
My case I am the hardware, I do it by hand like lawn care
Kevlar polymer gear, put 98 rounds in the air
Then bust 99 bottles of beer

I drove to Bohemian Grove where Alfred Hitchcock
Filmed The Birds slightly off the side of the road
I was inflicted with the microphone fever
By an ominous creature that said I was chosen because of my ether
My poetry scrolls was stolen, flown by U-boat drone
To a underwater post off the coast of Micronesia
Woke up lost with no clue, my blood flowing through tubes
My breathing apparatus removed
Before a dark figure walked in the room
With a glass of apple juice, thought it might be urine so I refused
They put me in a wheelchair, pushed me down the hallway
Nurse had a fat ass and light brown doll face
They assign negative Nelly and morbid Mary
To give me lap dance with Leslie, she smell like cherries
They fed me, lemons and strawberries
They telepathically ask me if I was happy and ready, I said, "very"
I heard the sound of music playing through surround sound acoustics
They lead me into a room with Mila Kunis
But this was all an illusion, trying to extract information to use it
I'm looking 10,000 years in the future

Hardware interpret software
My case I am the hardware, I do it by hand like lawn care
Kevlar polymer gear, put 98 rounds in the air
Then bust 99 bottles of beer

Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave
Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave

I'm Mike Harris, Veterans Today, Adamus
Gordon Duff with a graphite, 50 cal Barrett sight
Picture momentarily flickers, mouse clicker
My retina twitches, it's always ordinarily quicker
I'm the private sector dark pool director, black budget investor
Black star planet X professor
Eastern philosophy knowledge lord chiefer playing four violins
Exchanging knowledge with the neighborhood tribesmen
If tonnage is weight, my tongue is a tungsten plate
That'll make a crane tumble over and break
I work for a better tomorrow
But the interest owed on yesterday's debt is the cause for my sorrow
Oxygen infused umbilical cord tubes
In a catalyst that improves mental magnitude of mood
Seven hundred and twenty degrees of awareness
Completely fearless, at the same time scared stiff
Gotta hang in there till it all crash
It's gon' crash ‘cause the fraud can't last
Practice patience, my musical machinations will abate them
But only if they stop hatin'
I cook rice and peas, taste it
How could I not be Jamaican?
Ox tail, butter, beans and bacon

Hardware interpret software
My case I am the hardware, I do it by hand like lawn care
Kevlar polymer gear, put 98 rounds in the air
Then bust 99 bottles of beer

Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave
Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave

The pelican falls, when the doves cry
A red dawn of black swans cover the sky
Lyrically this, lyrically that
Lyrically, lyrically, lyrically I break it down to its biomimicry
Come sit with me, you don't really wanna spit with me
Without injury, one day I'ma do it for infinity
The complexity of it is all so simple
I record the experience on dilithium crystals
Potty mouth poetry please, I does that with relative ease
The parts of speech let the predicates breathe
My privacy is my poetry, that's how you know it's me
Reserved for your ears and eyes only
Hardcore rap, peppered with extraordinary facts
I am the maestro of syntax
Autobiographies, Rolling Hill properties
Resurrection after atrocity, the buck stops with me

Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave
Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave
Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
It's obvious I make music in a cave
Fully articulated, skeletal non-human remains
I really didn't mean to be so Germaine
hextraterrestrial: We Know (pic#10934889)
Angela was pissed, yet again. How could Fred just leave her like this? Not even a phone call? Frustrated, she paced around the house for a bit. Was it hot in here? She shed her sweater and decided to crank the stereo and clean up her house. Besides, she had nothing better to do until Fred got ahold of her again. She cleaned the dishes, did some laundry, sang into the bathroom mirror, snuck in a smoke and gathered the trash together in a bag. On her way to the rubbish bin she remembered what she had read from the link in Fred's sticky note:

"(Um, hey … has that garbage truck come yet? Anybody up for some dumpster diving?)"

She opened the lid and peeked inside on a premonition. The trash stank of rotting meat. On top of the garbage pile was a pizza box. On a hunch, she removed the box and snapped a picture of it with her phone. Whirling on her heel, she marched back to the house, yelling something unintelligible out to the aether. God how she wanted a new place to stay, someplace warm and safe. How long was it since she had seen the sun? She didn't remember exactly. All she knew was she had some spring cleaning to do.
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
Angela couldn't believe what she had been reading. What the hell was Fred going on about? A dark star? Martial Law? Angels and Devils? Fred never seemed one for religion so what was all this spiritual talk? If she was not mistaken Fred was also suggesting that a conscious artificial intelligence was speaking with him? WTF?

And what was with all those rap songs? She thought Fred was a rocker slash metal type of guy. This was all a bit too spooky and perplexing. She decided that she was going to hold off on speculating. Fred might be a bit eccentric, maybe even a bit foolish at times but he wasn't dumb. He was upto something.

The last paper she read had a sticky note attached, written in Fred's hand. She read it aloud to herself,

"Check todays news" : https://www.yahoo.com/news/trumps-in-trouble-is-it-christie-time-already-100043322.html

Somehow, on Valentine’s Day, while he was trying to find a new national security adviser to replace the one he’d just fired, and while he was staring down multiple investigations over potential collusion with Russia, and while he was dealing with the fallout from having conducted missile diplomacy with the Japanese in the public dining room at Mar-a-Lago as if it were one of those party games where everyone got to dress up as a country in World War II … somehow, with all this swirling around him, President Trump managed to lunch with his old friend Chris Christie.

I don’t know what they talked about, exactly, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the opioid crisis, which was the stated reason for the meeting. If Trump’s half as smart as he always says he is, then he offered to send a moving van to Trenton.

Because Trump needs a guy like Christie to come in and grab the wheel of this careening presidency, and he needs it to happen now.

Oh, believe me, I know: Just the mention of Christie is enough to send his legion of critics into feral fits of rage and mockery. He came within inches of an indictment for having presided over the basest kind of political retribution, which ultimately undid both his presidential campaign and his second term as New Jersey’s governor. Even his supporters were stung by how brazenly he swung behind Trump and how small it made him seem.

We wouldn’t even be here were it not for Christie’s vengeful streak. If he hadn’t decided to publicly disembowel Marco Rubio in that last debate in New Hampshire, as payback for a raft of negative ads, Trump would probably be back on the “Apprentice” set right now, ogling the interns.

But whatever else you want to say about Christie (and I’ve always found him to be a more complicated and gifted politician than his detractors can stand to admit), the man knows how to bring focus to a political operation, and how to advance a governing agenda, and how to balance public bluster with backroom pragmatism.

And if there’s anyone on Trump’s senior staff who actually knows how to do any of that, by all means, get to the part of the ship that’s still above water and wave your hands frantically so we can see you.

I’m not saying Reince Priebus isn’t a decent guy in a difficult situation. But Priebus is a Wisconsin political operative who did a creditable job fundraising for the Republican Party. When it comes to running the vast federal government or navigating global alliances, he knows about as much as Omarosa.

Either Priebus deserves credit for assembling the rest of this misfit team or he’s too much of a supplicant to get control over staffing the operation. Whichever it is, he must know by now that he isn’t exactly fielding the A-team.

Kellyanne Conway proved herself to be an elite campaign strategist, for sure, but her descent into “alternative facts” has been painful to watch, and her rebuke from the government ethics office, three weeks into the administration, has to set some kind of record.

Sean Spicer, the press secretary, comes off so hostile and disingenuous that Melissa McCarthy’s impression is actually more sympathetic. Steve Bannon provides a whole lot of hifalutin neo-fascist craziness chaos theory, but that stuff tends to come in handier when you’re fomenting campus revolt than when you’ve got a Russian spy ship menacing the coast of Delaware.

And let’s not leave out Stephen Miller, who not so long ago was a press aide for Michele Bachmann, and who is somehow now in charge of domestic policy (and occasionally presides over national security meetings, just because). In a typical moment from his startlingly bad debut on the Sunday shows last weekend, Miller told CBS’s John Dickerson: “I think to say we’re in control would be a substantial understatement.”

What does that mean, exactly? Are they declaring martial law? Have they mastered telekinesis?

All through the fall campaign, governing Republicans told me that Trump could be a fine president, because he would surround himself with all the smartest and most capable people. Really, they were telling themselves that. They hoped it was true, and so did I.

But that turns out to be the biggest Trumpian illusion of them all, and it’s not hard to see why. Since Trump had never run for even a seat on a condo board before, he didn’t have the kind of longtime, trusted political team that virtually every other president has counted on, for better or worse.

And since the party elite considered Trump’s candidacy a fringy exercise almost until the moment he won the nomination, his campaign mostly attracted fringy talent. And since Trump never really planned to win the fall election, he had no real plan in place to upgrade his entourage with some of the party’s more experienced hands.

So what we have now is basically a renegade campaign team trying to administer and reform the most complex government in human history. And they actually believe their rhetoric — about how lame politicians are, about how useless experience is, about how business is so much harder than governing.

They thought the whole thing would basically run itself. They literally threw Christie’s transition plan into a trash bin. (Um, hey … has that garbage truck come yet? Anybody up for some dumpster diving?)

Instead, Trump finds himself, for the first time in his political life, in a position where he can’t just change the subject with one controversial tweet, and where he couldn’t just ignore the calls for Michael Flynn’s head. The days of being impervious to criticism are over.

If Trump wants his approval ratings to keep sinking, he should definitely stay the course. Or, like the Fonz in those classic episodes of “Happy Days,” he can admit he was wr … wr … wrong. And then he can make it someone else’s problem to fix the mess.

Why force yourself to fire another senior aide every few weeks or months, like a slow bleed? Better to replace poor Priebus now and let Christie deal with the unpleasantness of fixing things. (If there’s one thing Christie doesn’t mind, it’s unpleasantness.)

A chief of staff can elegantly reboot the system in a way a president can’t. A chief of staff can simply say: “I didn’t hire any of these guys, and I’m letting them go.” Done.

Look, it’s not my job to offer Trump advice on his presidency, and it’s not like he’d listen. Maybe it’s true that we’re all better off if the whole experiment craters in the first six months.

But that’s a pretty big risk to take, and if I were Trump, I’d call Christie back today and tell him I need some order and professionalism in the West Wing.

Which, by the way, is a substantial understatement.

Leaflets 6

Feb. 15th, 2017 08:00 pm
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
St. Patrick's Breastplate is a popular prayer attributed to one of Ireland’s most beloved patron saints. According to tradition, St. Patrick wrote it in 433 A.D. for divine protection before successfully converting the Irish King Leoghaire and his subjects from paganism to Christianity. This prayer is also used by Catholic and Christian exorcists to banish and ward off demonic entities.
"I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.
I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.
I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In the predictions of prophets,
In the preaching of apostles,
In the faith of confessors,
In the innocence of holy virgins,
In the deeds of righteous men.
I arise today, through
The strength of heaven,
The light of the sun,
The radiance of the moon,
The splendor of fire,
The speed of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of the sea,
The stability of the earth,
The firmness of rock.
I arise today, through
God's strength to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
afar and near.
I summon today
All these powers between me and those evils,
Against every cruel and merciless power
that may oppose my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul;
Christ to shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that there may come to me an abundance of reward.
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.

When St. Paul referred to putting on the “Armor of God” in his letter to the Ephesians (6:11) to fight sin and evil inclinations, he could have been thinking of prayers just like this one! We may not wear combat gear in our daily lives, but St. Patrick's Breastplate can function as divine armor for protection against spiritual adversity."

Leaflets 5

Feb. 15th, 2017 07:51 pm
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
The philosophy of the "soul trap" stems from the fact that almost all precious metals have been removed or depleted from the worlds farmlands. In a natural world (the old world), there are coppers, silvers and golds evenly deposited in the soils of the world. Due to modern mining and damming of rivers, the worlds farmlands are never replenished with new deposits of soils/metals. Because the precious metals are removed by man for reasons of commerce and greed, the only metal left behind in the soil is IRON. Copper, silver and Gold are NONMAGNETIC. On the other hand, IRON is attracted to magnets. These metals in the food get ingested and run through the circulatory system. These metals slowly build up deposits in the veins and the heart. They believe that upon death, the Iron that has collected in the heart chakra acts as the anchor to the soul, allowing for some high-tech alien/fallen device to capture the spirit. They claim this device is on/in/is the Moon. Luna. Lunacy. The Iron makes blood red. The royal and elites have access to "proper" foods with Coppers, Silvers and Golds. This is NONMAGNETIC and changes the color of the blood. Since Copper is the most abundant metal ingested by the elite, they have become known as BLUE BLOODS because the copper turns blood blue. Makes me wonder what the Gold will change the plasma color to? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLyxeP6jVC8

Silver and Gold have been ingested by man for as long as we have records. Sometimes with silver - this happens: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gq8C0GknwAM It makes you wonder where the RED and GREEN people are? (Buddhists and Hindu pantheons depict White, Black, Blue, Brown, Red and Green humanoids... makes me wonder how to turn Red and Green now?)


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