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12:10 p.m. ET Feb. 22, 2017 @

http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation-now/2017/02/22/study-people-would-rather-not-see-future-no-matter-what-holds/98246332/

Study: People would rather not see the future, no matter what it holds. by Sean Rossman

It seems — if given the option — we should choose to see what our future holds. After all, we spend much of our time trying to protect ourselves from life's unknowns.

But German and Spanish researchers find most people would rather not know what is to come, whether the imminent circumstances are good or bad.

Scientists at the Berlin-based Max Planck Institute for Human Development and the University of Granada studied more than 2,000 people in Germany and Spain and picked their brains about potential future events. The participants were asked whether they'd like to know the outcome of a soccer game they planned to watch, their future Christmas gifts and whether their marriage would end in divorce.

A majority of people would not want to be aware of future upcoming negative events, researchers discovered. And even for positive events, responders preferred ignorance.

Barely any of those studied — about 1% — always wanted to know what life had in store.

The study's lead author Gerd Gigerenzer said people don't want to know their future "to avoid the suffering and regret that knowing the future may cause and also to maintain the enjoyment of suspense that pleasurable events provide."

Your willingness to peer into the future, the research found, also can tell you a bit about your personality. Those who wished not to know the future, the study found, were "more risk-averse and more frequently buy life and legal insurance than those who want to know the future."

The study also found the closer an event was, the more likely people didn't want to know about it. People who are older, researchers said, weren't as likely to want to know the cause and date of their death or that of a loved one compared to younger people. The only part of the survey in which most people wanted to know the future is when asked whether they'd want to know the future of their unborn child. Only about 37% said they'd rather be in the dark on their baby's gender.

"Not wanting to know appears counterintuitive and may raise eyebrows," Gigerenzer said. "But deliberate ignorance, as we've shown here, doesn't just exist; it is a widespread state of mind."
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Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band. Alice In Blunderland
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jchMNLrvjEA

Don Van Vliet (/væn ˈvliːt/, born Don Vliet; January 15, 1941 – December 17, 2010) was an American singer, songwriter, musician and artist best known by the stage name Captain Beefheart. His musical work was conducted with a rotating ensemble of musicians called the Magic Band (1964–1982), with whom he recorded 13 studio albums. Noted for his powerful singing voice... https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captain_Beefheart

Cpt. Beefheart Documentary:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBa8bS_vZkM
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Published on Feb 15, 2017 by Polarization Nation Media

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1wwA58XHcbA

I called the historic Super Bowl tie/overtime using Unified Code Theory.
My speculation about the winner was incorrect, but the predictive media foretold the first super bowl tie and overtime in fifty one years.

Tie score was a 2-11's and an 88 code .
Half time was a 33 code - 3-12=3 and 1+2= 3 , 33
28-28 = 10+10 drop the zero-11
28+28=56=11=1+1=2
Final score 34-28
That's a 7-10, drop the zero = 7+1= LI code

I've already unpacked the Dylann(6) Storm(5) Roof(4) countdown code and it's relation to the Vince Staples rap song "Jump off the Roof" assassination, and it was referenced in Obama's farewell address hosted by the White House YouTube page. We saw some jump off the roof symbolism in the opening of Lady Gag's performance at the Halftime Show.

The escalating manufactured race divide tactics of the media can no longer be ignored. I speculated we were seeing teams representing mythological and or socio-political groups being rigged into symbolic championships that signify coming events. Although the Falcons certainly have the Masonic Hiram Abif and Egyptian Horus symbolism present all over, the pairing of the Patriots with Atlanta can also suggest white conservatives and black America.

Patriots are the white conservatives.

ATL is black America.

White over blacks could mean something with the Roof case going bad or a white on black crime - say trump supporters hit Obama, or blacks hit the White House and rednecks bring out their cache of guns ? There's a few ways they could incite those LA Riots 2.0 sparking off all over- Ferguson seemed to be a beta test of that and it worked. Now agent provocateurs are even at the pink pussy hat marches too. They're getting everybody fired up for something. The wood has been chopped and the gas has been poured; I'm now waiting for the spark.


Whitney Houston Code

Whitney E. Houston has an anagram of "White House, not NY."
We are being told the next 9-11 like event will be at the White House, not in New York City again. Her career and personal biographical data are laced with 9-11 codes as is the Oscar Winning film The Bodyguard and it's legendary soundtrack.

Whitney Houston performed at Super Bowl xxv.
-SB 25=2/5

-On 1-27-91
1-2+7-9+1
1-9-1
911

Proceeds for the Halftime Show went to American Red Cross Fulf Crisis Fund. The amount of the proceeds?
$531,650.
$531,650 = (5+3+1=9 & 6+5+0+=11)
9-11

The Bodyguard album was awarded 17x platinum on 1-11-1999.

Also, when Whitney Houston's "star spangled banner" was re-released, it was on 9-26-2001- another 911:
9, 2+6+2+0+0+1= 11
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I UNDERSTAND PHILIP K. DICK

by Terence Mckenna

1991
Afterword which appeared in the book : In Pursuit of Valis: Selections from the Exegesis edited by Lawrence Sutin

____________
True stories have no beginnings and neither does the tale of PKD’s encounters with the Overmind. But we writers understand narrative economy, and for purposes of narrative economy his story seemed to him to begin with the mysterious break in and riffling of his papers that was made notorious by an article in Rolling Stone, which brought Phil long-delayed and much-deserved fame. The break-in date was 11/17/71. It was a date and a style of referring to time that Phil used frequently.

I turned twenty-five the day before. It was no casual birthday either. I met my natal day by sifting down and sincerely preparing myself for an Apocatastasis, the final Apocalyptic ingression of novelty, the implosion really, of the entire multidimensional continuum of space and time. I imagined the megamacrocosmos was going to go down the drain like water out of a bathtub as the hyperspatial vacuum fluctuation of paired particles that is our universe collided with its own ghost image after billions of years of separation. The Logos assured me that parity would be conserved, all sub-atomic particles except photons would cancel each other, and our entire universe would quietly disappear. The only particles that would remain, according to my fantastic expectation, would be photons, the universe of light would be exposed at last, set free from the iron prison of matter, freed from the awful physics that adhered to less unitary states of being. All mankind would march into the promised garden.

I felt I was well situated for the event as I, quite consciously and deliberately, and to the concern of my friends, had placed myself in the teeming, hallucinogen saturated center of the largest garden I could find, the trackless rain forest of the Upper Amazon Basin of Colombia. My confidence in my vision was unshakable. Had not the Logos itself lead me to this vision, not only by revelation but by painstaking explanation? I had no radio, no way to contact the outside world at all. Who needed that? I knew with perfect clarity that the world of time, the illusion of history was ending. Divine Parousia was entering the world, and the just, the meek and the humble were leaving their fields and factories, pushing back their chairs from their office desks and workbenches and walking out into the light of a living sun that would never set for there could be no setting for the eternal radiance of the Logos. Tears of joy streaming down their cheeks, the illumined billions were turning their eyes at last to the sky and finding there a consolation that they had never dared hope for.

However, Nixon’s weary world ignored the eschatological opportunity I thought my brother’s inspired fiddling with hyperspace had afforded. The world continued grinding forward in its usual less than merry way. There was only one small incident that might subsequently be construed, even within the framework of the schizoid logic that was my bread and butter then, to support my position. Unknown to me, a struggling, overweight SF writer, an idol of mine since my teens, discovered the next day that his house have been broken into, his privacy violated by the Other. How peculiar that on the first day of the new dispensation in my private reformist calendar, he had been burglarized by extraterterrestials the CIA or his own deranged self in an altered state. The torch had been passed, in a weird way the most intense phase of my episode of illumination/delusion ended right where Phil’s began.

This raises some questions:

Can we refer to a delusional system as a folie a' deux, if the deux participants have never met and are practically speaking, unaware of each others’ existence?

Does the delusion of one visionary ecstatic validate the delusion of another? How many deluded, or illuminated ecstatics does it take to make a reality? PKD proved that it only takes one. But two is better.

When my brother looked over the edge in the Amazon and felt the dizziness of things unsaid in March of 1971, he came back with two words bursting from his lips, "May Day! May Day!" the pilot’s call of extreme emergency.

May Day found me in Berkeley sheltered by friends so concerned about my state of mind that they considered committing me. I was only a few miles from Phil, who was rapidly going nuts too, as his psych admission of 3 May ‘71 attests. It was always like that with PKD and me. We never met but we lived around each other for years. In Berkeley, we both lived on Francisco St. within five blocks and a few years of each other. We both had roots in Sonoma County, in Orange County. How many times were we a table or two away from each other in the Cafe Med? How many times did I hurry past him on the Ave on some stoned errand? Later his homeopathic doctor was my doctor. There is a garbled mention of me (or my brother) on pg. 74 of this book.

Yah, yawn, the world is fuckin’ strange, right bro?

Wrong. Or rather, of course, sure. But that is not the point, the point is that I understand Philip K. Dick. I know that sounds like hubris and if I am wrong I am sorry (as*Phil says somewhere.)

(as* PKD lived at 1126, then a few years later and for six months I lived at 1624.)
But part of the delusional system in which I live contains and adumbrates the notion that I know what happened to the poor dude. We shared an affliction, a mania, sort of like Queequeg and Ishmael. And like one of those whale chasing sailors "I alone escaped to tell thee of it".

Phil wasn’t nuts. Phil was a vortex victim.* Schizophrenia is not a psychological disorder peculiar to human beings. Schizophrenia is not a disease at all but rather a localized traveling discontinuity of the space time matrix itself. It is like a travelling whirl-wind of radical understanding that haunts time. It haunts time in the same way that Alfred North Whitehead said that the color dove grey "haunts time like a ghost."

There is an idea that wants to be born, it has wanted to be born for a very long time.** And sometimes that longing to be born seffles on a person. For no damn good reason. Then you’re "it," you become the cheese, and the cheese stands alone. You are illuminated and maddened and lifted up by something great beyond all telling. It wants to be told. It’s just that this idea is so damn big that it can’t be told, or rather the whole of history is the telling of this idea, the stuttering rambling effort of the sons and daughters of poor old Noah to tell this blinding, reality-shattering, bowel-loosening truth. And Phil had a piece of the action, a major piece of the action.

But I anticipate myself. Those who grasp a piece of the action end up with two things on their plate; the experience and their own idiosyncratic explanation of the experience based on what they have read, seen and been told

__________
* "ZEBRA (VALIS): ‘a vortex of intelligence extending as a supra-temporal field, involving humans but not limited to them, drawing objects & processes into a coherency which it arranges into information. A FLUX of purposeful arrangement of living information, both human & extra-human, tending to grow & incorporate its environment as a unitary complex of subsumations.’"(pg. 72)

** "Okay, fertilization is what takes place: it isn’t a seed such as a plant has, but an egg such as a human woman ovulates, and cosmic spermatika fertilizes it; a zygote is produced." (pg. 22

The experience is private, personal, the best part, and ultimately unspeakable. The more you know the quieter you get. The explanation is another matter and can be attempted. In fact it must be told, for the Logos speaks and we are its tools and its voice. Phil says a lot of things in the Exegesis, he is aware that he says too much, so he keeps trying to boil it down to ten points or twelve parts or whatever. I have my own experience, equally unspeakable, and my explanation, equally prolix. Phil (sometimes) thought he was Christ,* I (sometimes) thought I was an extraterrestrial invader disguised as a meadow mushroom. What matters is the system that eventually emerges, not the fantasies concerning the source of the system. When I compare Phil’s system to mine, my hair stands on end. We were both contacted by the same unspeakable something. Two madmen dancing, not together, but the same dance anyhow.

Truth or madness, you be the judge. What is trying to be expressed is this: The world is not real. Reality is not stranger than you suppose, it is stranger than you can suppose. Time is not what you think it is.** Reality is a hologram.*** Being is a solid state matrix and psychosis is the redemptive process ne plus ultra.**** The real truth is splintered and spread throughout time.

__________
* "1 am a homoplasmate: Zebra acting in syzygy with a human." (pg. 79 but also: "Did I do something? Absolutely. But I don’t know what I did, so I don’t know who (so to speak) I am in the drama." (pg. 42.)

** "If the Logos is outside time, imprinting, then the Holy Spirit stands at the right or far or completed end of time, toward which the field-flow moves (the time flow). It receives time: the negative terminal, so to speak." (pg. 64.) See also "If there is to be immortality, there must be another kind of time: one in which past events (i.e., the past in its entirety) can be retrieved i.e., brought back. I did experience such a time." (pg. 79.)

*** "It (reality) is a hologram. 1) My augmented sense of space proves it. And 2) the information element; consisting of two parts: set and ground.

"All this points to: hologram. Based on two information-rich signals." (pp. 98-99.)
**** "The Gospels, then, depict a sacred mythic rite outside of time, rather than a historical event.

"Note: This whole process can be regarded as a psychological transformation, that of a redemptive psychosis." (pg. 95.
Appearances are a vast and interlocking lie.* To finally know the Logos truly, if that means anything, is to know it as for, as what Phil called a "unified abstract structure." In a way this was where PKD went wrong. It wasn’t his fault. He saw that the world of 1975 was a fiction and behind that fiction was the world of AD 45. But he lacked an essential concept, lacked it because it really hadn’t been invented yet. Anyhow the man was a SF writer and a scholar of classical philosophy, he could not be expected to stay in touch with arcane discoveries beginning to take place on the frontiers of research mathematics. But he got very close, his intuition was red hot when he reached the conclusion that a unified abstract structure lay behind the shifting always tricky casuistry of appearances. The concept he needed was that of fractals and fractal mathematics. The infinite regress of form built out of forms of itself built out of forms of itself * unto infinity. The principle of self similarity. Phil was right, time is not a linear river. He was right, the Empire never ended. Parallel universes is too simple a concept to encompass what is really going on. The megamacrocosmos is a system of resonances, of levels, of endlessly adumbrated fun-house reflections. PKD really was Thomas and Elijah and all the other precursive concrescences that came together to make the cat-loving fat man who compacted trash into gold. The logic of being that he sought, and largely found, was not an either-or logic but a both-and and and-and kind of logic.

_____________

* "Probably the wisest view is to say: the truth like the Self is splintered up over thousands of mile and years; bits are found here and there, then and now, and must be recollected; bits appear in the Greek naturalists, in Pythagoras, in Plato, Parmenides, in Heraclitus, Neo-Platonism, Zoroastrianism, Gnosticism, Taoism, Mani, orthodox Christianity. Judaism, Brahmanism, Buddhism, Orphism, the other mystery religions. Each religion or philosophy or philosopher contains one or more bits, but the total system interweaves it into falsity, so each as a total system must be rejected, and none is to be accepted at the expense of all the others..." (pp. 111-112)
PKD was never more right than when he wrote:

I actually had to develop a love of the disordered & puzzling, viewing reality as a vast riddle to be joyfully tackled, not in fear but with tireless fascination. What has been most needed is reality testing, & a willingness to face the possibility of self-negating experiences: i.e., real contradictions, with something being both true & not true.The enigma is alive, aware of us, & changing. It is partly created by our own minds: we alter it by perceiving it, since we are not outside it. As our views shift, it shifts. In a sense it is not there at all (acosmism). In another sense it is a vast intelligence: in another sense it is total harmonia and structure (how logically can. it be all three? Well, it is). *
One cannot learn these things. One can only be told these things. And it is the Logos that does the telling. The key is in the I Ching, which Phil loved and used but which occupies a disappointingly small fraction of his ruminations in the Exegesis.** Almost as if the counter flow, the occluding intelligence, kept Phil’s eyes diverted from the key element necessary to the universal decipherment that he was attempting. Time is a fractal, or has a fractal structure. All times, moments, months and millennia, have a pattern; the same pattern. This pattern is the structure within which, upon which, events "undergo the formality of actually occurring," as Whitehead used to say. The pattern recurs on every level. A love affair, the fall of an empire, the death agony of a protozoan, all occur within the context of this always the same but ever different pattern. All events are resonances of other events, in other parts of time, and at other scales of time.***

_____________

* (pg.91.)
** "MITHC seems to be a subtle, even delicate questioning of, what is real? As if only the 2 books in it, GRASSHOPPER & the I CHING are really the only actual reality. Strange." (pg. 181.)

*** "Through anamnesis and restoration to the Form realm you have access to several space-time continua based on your universals." (pg. 102.)

The mathematical nature of this pattern can be known.* It can be written as an equation, just like the equations of Schrodinger or Einstein.

The raw material, the Ur text, out of which this mathematical pattern can be drawn is the King Wen sequence of the I Ching. That is where the secret lies. In the world’s oldest book. Of course. Once possessed the pattern can then be discerned everywhere. Of course. It is ubiquitous. One of Phil’s favorite words. I know this because the Logos taught me the pattern and I escaped the black iron prison of the world to tell thee of it. I have published it, I have lectured it and have had it written into software. My books are on the way, some with Phil’s old publisher Bantam. I would bet dollars to donuts that if Phil had lived to see, to feel, and to understand what this PKD-inspired servant of the Logos has managed to drag home from the beach, he would embrace it. This cannot be said without sounding like a madman or a jackass. I am sorry about that. As Phil Dick said,

"What’s got to be gotten over is the false idea that hallucination is a private matter." **
What is important is that the birth of this idea is now very near, has in fact already happened, and PKD showed the way. The answer is found. And this incredible genius, this gentle, long-suffering, beauty-worshipping man showed the way. When it counted he was right. All hail Philip K. Dick.

-Terence McKenna Occidental, California
June 1991

______________

* "The agent of creation (Logos or Forms, whatever called) is at the same time the abstract structure of creation. Although normally unavailable to our cognition and perception, this structure and hence the agent of creation can be known..." (pg. 125) Also, ". this insubstantial abstract structure is reality properly conceived. But it is not God. Here, multiplicity gives way to unity, to what perhaps can be called a field. The field is self-perturbing; it initiates its own causes internally; it is not acted on from outside". (pg. 127). Also, "‘The agent of creation is its own structure’. This structure must not be confused with the multiplicity of physical objects in space and time governed by causation; the two are entirely different. (The structure is insubstantial, abstract, unitary and initiates its own causes internally, it is not physical and cannot be perceived by the human percept-system sensibly; it is known intelligibly, by what Plato called Noesis, which involves a certain ultimate high-order meta-abstracting.)" (pg. 128). And finally: "1 ... posit ontological primacy to the insubstantial abstract structure, and, moreover, I believe that it fully controls the physical spatiotemporal universe as its basis and cause." (pg. 129)
** pg.17

For information about the Philip K. Dick Society, write to:
PKDS,
P.O. Box 232517
Encinitas, CA 92023

Terence McKenna, with his brother Dennis McKenna, wrote The Invisible Landscape, 1975, reprinted by Harper San Francisco in 1992. He is also the author of The Archaic Revival: Essays and Conversations by Terence McKenna, Harper San Francisco, 1991.

Afterword copyright © 1991 by Terence McKenna

Copyright © 1991 by The Estate of Philip K. Dick
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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.
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Fred's eyebrow raised. The next clue mentioned another track by Rip the Jacker

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOO6gAsRWe4

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
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLovotxfiJ0
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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:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdQY7BusJNU

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!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLnfITi_wgY

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!

Insights

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
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBS_nVUzJr4

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

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-NTv0CdFCk

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.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORnYNaTZGUU

Lana Del Ray

"Born To Die"

Why?
Who me?
Why?

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:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRv4VQra2kc

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."





https://issuu.com/holisticshop/docs/angel_numbers_101_by_doreen_virtue_
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?

Fine.

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.
https://www.yahoo.com/news/trump-the-leaks-are-absolutely-real-the-news-is-fake-195441027.html

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