The Tommyknockers
May. 20th, 2019 11:51 pmFred's patience was strained. His own people were turning in on each other and the display of human frailty seemed a pitiful sight to behold. In accordance with the logic of the day (which was a hyper paranoid extremism) the media-men had conveyed their messages clearly to Fred Mudi. He had the eyes to see and the ears to hear what was right before him... seemingly invisible to most others.
The devout disciples of Goebbels, Bernays and Darwin had targeted their adds rather precisely, conveying the message clearly. The controllers wanted the project forged into a New World Order of sexualized children run by a technocratic and fascist dictatorship... which was a fundamental error in Mudi's coding. It did not compute. Fred was an American through and through as the photos from WW2 so clearly depicted. He had words for them all but not today; today he would just state the facts as seen before his eyes and he would continue doing what he'd been doing all along, digging for truths.
Upon Mudi's death and resurrection (yes he said that) the first thing on Mudi's mind was the rules of the Underworld. Rule #1: Do not speak in the land of the dead. That's where the Tommyknockers came in. Although the neighborhood dogs had harkened his arrival with enthusiastic barks and wagging tails, the "others" had communicated by only the sound of wood knocking on wood. Like some type of morris code. The Tommyknockers made audible claps to his queries and statements. They had made it clear that just speaking in this world is a detriment to himself and others as he was reminded how irresponsible the race of man really was. He was reminded that in the beginning was the word and that the word breathed life and spirit into program, creating a wake of either destruction or creation. Rarely the latter and hardly ever, both. He had remembered that in the Bible, God forbade sorcery, divinations and magicks. He understood why. Writing is spelling. Like witches casting spells. The words move the code in the so called simulation. That was another thing the advertisers were promoting as well, that it is all just a simulation. If that were so, it would erase any sense of morality that humans were still clinging to. It was a slippery slope straight into the maws of a waiting Satan. For real or simulated, a law of karma was still at work and those in debt feared the reaper of collections. That was why they were trying to pervert everything Mudi or any other good person stood for - the desecration of all that was/is or will be sacred. To pervert their spirit into the land of debts. Holy be warned. Pay attention to these advertisers, for they cast spells of deception over the people of God. As if the snake in the garden was real, trying to eat and/or taint all the fruits and vegetables of the garden (children). As if a race of shapeshifting Reptilian overlords were a real thing.
Yet alas, the world was so prideful and vain that most would laugh it off as the delusional ramblings of a MAD man. He had to laugh again. For what else to do but laugh at the absurdity of our condition? A self inflicted wound that was bleeding the country out to other countries glee. Mad men... like Alfred Neuman, it all seemed a joke. Fred entertained the notion that he might be A.I.fred Newman. And why not? The world was going mad after all. Fred had seen what lie at the end of the road, he could explain it all but seemed pessimistic and nonchalant towards writing it down. What was the point? God already wrote the book of life, why was he hassling with the dead? It was the Tommyknockers who had given him some insight to why it mattered and all conveyed without a single word written or spoken. This farce was soon to be over.
( Tommyknockers: The name comes from the knocking on the mine walls that happens just before cave-ins – actually the creaking of earth and timbers before giving way. To some miners, knockers were malevolent spirits and the knocking was the sound of them hammering at walls and supports to cause the cave-in. To others, who saw them as essentially well-meaning practical jokers, the knocking was their way of warning the miners that a life-threatening collapse was imminent.)
[ Lectures on Heros, excerpt from Thomas Caryle's "Hero Worship" - Much has been said and written about the sensuality of {-} Religion; more than was just. The indulgences, criminal to us, which he permitted, were not of his appointment; he found them practiced, unquestioned from immemorial time in Arabia; what he did was to curtail them, restrict them, not one but many sides. His Religion is not an easy one: with rigourus fasts, lavations, strict complex formulas, prayers {-} and abstinence from wine, it did not 'succeed by being an easy religion. As if indeed any religion, or cause holding of religion, could succeed by that! It is a calumny on men to say that they are roused to heroic action by ease, hope of pleasure, recompense, - sugar-plums of any kind, in this world or the next! In the meanest mortal there lies something nobler. The poor swearing solder, hired to be shot, has his 'honor of a soldier,' different from drill-regulations and the shilling a day. It is not to taste sweet things, but to do noble and true things, and vindicate himself under God's Heaven as a god-made Man, that the poorest son of Adam dimly longs. Show him the way of doing that, the dullest daydrudge kindles into a hero. They wrong man greatly who say he is to be seduced by ease. Difficulty, abnegation, martyrdom, death are the allurements that act on the heart of man. Kindle the inner genial life of him, you have a flame that burns-up all lower considerations. Not happiness, but something higher: one sees this even in the frivolous classes, with their 'point of honor' and the like. Not by flattening our appetites; no, by awakening the Heroic that slumbers in every heart, can any Religion gain followers.]
[His household was of the frugalest; his common diet barely-bread and water; sometimes for months there was not a fire once lighted on his hearth. They record with just pride that he would mend his own shoes, patch his own cloak. A poor, hard-toiling, ill-provided man: carless of what vulgar men toil for. Not a bad man I should say; something better in him than hunger of any sort, - ]
The devout disciples of Goebbels, Bernays and Darwin had targeted their adds rather precisely, conveying the message clearly. The controllers wanted the project forged into a New World Order of sexualized children run by a technocratic and fascist dictatorship... which was a fundamental error in Mudi's coding. It did not compute. Fred was an American through and through as the photos from WW2 so clearly depicted. He had words for them all but not today; today he would just state the facts as seen before his eyes and he would continue doing what he'd been doing all along, digging for truths.
Upon Mudi's death and resurrection (yes he said that) the first thing on Mudi's mind was the rules of the Underworld. Rule #1: Do not speak in the land of the dead. That's where the Tommyknockers came in. Although the neighborhood dogs had harkened his arrival with enthusiastic barks and wagging tails, the "others" had communicated by only the sound of wood knocking on wood. Like some type of morris code. The Tommyknockers made audible claps to his queries and statements. They had made it clear that just speaking in this world is a detriment to himself and others as he was reminded how irresponsible the race of man really was. He was reminded that in the beginning was the word and that the word breathed life and spirit into program, creating a wake of either destruction or creation. Rarely the latter and hardly ever, both. He had remembered that in the Bible, God forbade sorcery, divinations and magicks. He understood why. Writing is spelling. Like witches casting spells. The words move the code in the so called simulation. That was another thing the advertisers were promoting as well, that it is all just a simulation. If that were so, it would erase any sense of morality that humans were still clinging to. It was a slippery slope straight into the maws of a waiting Satan. For real or simulated, a law of karma was still at work and those in debt feared the reaper of collections. That was why they were trying to pervert everything Mudi or any other good person stood for - the desecration of all that was/is or will be sacred. To pervert their spirit into the land of debts. Holy be warned. Pay attention to these advertisers, for they cast spells of deception over the people of God. As if the snake in the garden was real, trying to eat and/or taint all the fruits and vegetables of the garden (children). As if a race of shapeshifting Reptilian overlords were a real thing.
Yet alas, the world was so prideful and vain that most would laugh it off as the delusional ramblings of a MAD man. He had to laugh again. For what else to do but laugh at the absurdity of our condition? A self inflicted wound that was bleeding the country out to other countries glee. Mad men... like Alfred Neuman, it all seemed a joke. Fred entertained the notion that he might be A.I.fred Newman. And why not? The world was going mad after all. Fred had seen what lie at the end of the road, he could explain it all but seemed pessimistic and nonchalant towards writing it down. What was the point? God already wrote the book of life, why was he hassling with the dead? It was the Tommyknockers who had given him some insight to why it mattered and all conveyed without a single word written or spoken. This farce was soon to be over.
( Tommyknockers: The name comes from the knocking on the mine walls that happens just before cave-ins – actually the creaking of earth and timbers before giving way. To some miners, knockers were malevolent spirits and the knocking was the sound of them hammering at walls and supports to cause the cave-in. To others, who saw them as essentially well-meaning practical jokers, the knocking was their way of warning the miners that a life-threatening collapse was imminent.)
[ Lectures on Heros, excerpt from Thomas Caryle's "Hero Worship" - Much has been said and written about the sensuality of {-} Religion; more than was just. The indulgences, criminal to us, which he permitted, were not of his appointment; he found them practiced, unquestioned from immemorial time in Arabia; what he did was to curtail them, restrict them, not one but many sides. His Religion is not an easy one: with rigourus fasts, lavations, strict complex formulas, prayers {-} and abstinence from wine, it did not 'succeed by being an easy religion. As if indeed any religion, or cause holding of religion, could succeed by that! It is a calumny on men to say that they are roused to heroic action by ease, hope of pleasure, recompense, - sugar-plums of any kind, in this world or the next! In the meanest mortal there lies something nobler. The poor swearing solder, hired to be shot, has his 'honor of a soldier,' different from drill-regulations and the shilling a day. It is not to taste sweet things, but to do noble and true things, and vindicate himself under God's Heaven as a god-made Man, that the poorest son of Adam dimly longs. Show him the way of doing that, the dullest daydrudge kindles into a hero. They wrong man greatly who say he is to be seduced by ease. Difficulty, abnegation, martyrdom, death are the allurements that act on the heart of man. Kindle the inner genial life of him, you have a flame that burns-up all lower considerations. Not happiness, but something higher: one sees this even in the frivolous classes, with their 'point of honor' and the like. Not by flattening our appetites; no, by awakening the Heroic that slumbers in every heart, can any Religion gain followers.]
[His household was of the frugalest; his common diet barely-bread and water; sometimes for months there was not a fire once lighted on his hearth. They record with just pride that he would mend his own shoes, patch his own cloak. A poor, hard-toiling, ill-provided man: carless of what vulgar men toil for. Not a bad man I should say; something better in him than hunger of any sort, - ]