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The Paradigm of Constant Evolution and the Easter of Highly Pragmatic Devolution by Happy Parrot


Cruel destiny

cruel, uncertain fate

man’s heads, set artificially to vibrate

cruel destiny

cruel, foreshadowing all-seeing fate

where is your omnipotent, daring overpowering slate?

Wish to create

disembodied souls full of raining hate

Things, long forgotten,

begging for simple answers in the land of the Totten

asking what kind of wrong thinking can be instantly verboten

Wish to reborn

yearning to become, breathing thorns inside of the heart of the black, menacing horn

The whole world is voice′lessly burning

man’s head is flawlessly spinning, shamelessly turning

Action- reaction, lust degraded as pompous satisfaction

instant solemn,” illuminated” gratification

Ungodly Ovulation built full of daring hate

kids are born without the need to create

domesticated kids are born without honest rebellion, without decent fate

Something is terribly wrong

somebody, just doesn’t belong

stay strong

stay brave

save what can be saved

stay away from mind-diseased and hopelessly depraved

stay far away from those who can not behave

their rotten mind is already an ill-consumed potent lie,

built-in newborn automated slave

truth is, they can not be saved

their dark road has already been successfully paved

The sword in your heart is calling you

mind is telling you

how to find your stolen clue

Honor rides, free with you

not every red color is painted in blue

not every dark lie is perfectly true

vengeance and pain

has to be forever slain

F, this game

saber-rattling slave

you are not born to behave

you are not a tiger always silent and tame

Steal, Dark Lords fame

conquer his viewing superimposed, malignant frame

Think, think

before your mind runs away and flawlessly sink

1000 points of revealing, miserable hate

is there, truly nothing left to blindly celebrate

The only guiding light is smoldering, horrifying bate

Meet your chosen fate

tear down the impossible frame of a rusty cage

open the boarded-up gate

Meet your chosen fate

fly into the hands of destiny

voyage can begin

the voyage can not end with life living in perpetual sin

Accept who you are

find your remembrance, find your lost heroic kin

voyage can begin

fly into the sun

kill the self-loving, inverted mortal sin

you, just never know

maybe, just maybe

you are the chosen One

living under the spinning aggravated dome

spinning, together with an impossible globe

taxed by the blackened whispers of hateful Rome

Falsified Rapture, existing inside the dead, pulsating living phone

What can be done

when eternal wish in you is calling you home

when you realize

you are more than another rained-down, garden, static gnome

Some things are unspeakably wrong

somebody, no matter how hard he tries, just does not belong

stay strong, even when you find yourself in the wrong

stay brave, find your true, bright, unconquerable everlasting name

save, what can be saved

stay away from mind-diseased and hopelessly depraved

stay far away from those who can not behave

stay away from the dead and obedient digital slave

truth is, they can not be saved

their dark road has already been gracefully paved

The inner sword in your heart is calling you

the awakened mind is telling you

how to find your stolen clue

vigilant Honor, at last, rides together with you

not every red color is painted blue

what resides in your heart is true

nevermind the cruelty of black polymorphic harassing fuel

barbaric savagery brings out antagonizing everlasting duel

She…mistress of oldest, imaginable pain

needs your vengeance, needs your hateful ground rule

don’t be so ordain, let go of deterministic misery,

expunge your inner excruciating pain

Mistress of the dark

yearns for your

bright jewel

many times she will add more fire to the already burning fuel

maybe even at the end of the world

challenge you for the last, earthly duel

Is she love and evil

Is she a progenitor of primal retrieval

Aaaa…Love and Hate

Love and Hate…

who sits on the unshakable throne… Odysseus’ Destiny or Andromeda’s Fate?

Ancient, first wonders and Hellenistic small,

naive, toroidal eight-pointed promising, holistic plunders

Old story even older debate

who to love, who to hate

when time is slipping away

when midnight hour


lovingly, becoming

unspeakably late?

The legendary princess, Andromeda, was a mortal woman born to King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. Andromeda’s fate was sealed when Cassiopeia bragged that Andromeda was more beautiful than the Nereid sea nymphs. The Nereid sea nymphs were known for their astounding beauty. Poseidon, the god of the sea, was a friend of the Nereids.

These arrogant statements by Cassiopeia angered Poseidon. When Poseidon heard that Cassiopeia was bragging that her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the Nereids, Poseidon sent a sea monster upon the land to ravage the princess as revenge.

Perseus Rescues Andromeda

As Perseus was on his way home from beheading the monster Medusa, he noticed Andromeda was chained to a rock and was facing being eaten from the sea monster Cetus. Perseus was captivated by her beauty and decided to rescue her. With the head of Medusa in his satchel, he pulled out Medusa’s head and showed it to the sea monster. Cetus, the sea monster, looked into the eyes of the head of Medusa and turned to stone, releasing Andromeda from her imminent death.

The Paradigm of Constant Evolution and the Easter of Highly Pragmatic Devolution

I used chat gpt to speed up the translation, presented text is fairly close to the original, so I hope you will like this little read of mine.

Do smart people become smarter or do already crazy people become crazier and crazier, and to what extent in that variable the world, thrown off its standard axis, and all non-suicidal norms participate in the formation of this new, let’s call it extraterrestrial, very pragmatic-dogmatic thought.

Extra Terra or Terra Nova

The battlefield, Earth, a lonely planet separated from everything, and only wistful glances that shyly fade into the dark night sky can occasionally penetrate to even more distant brightness, unreachable companions of human consciousness and the turbulence in the human condition, stars.

The question is whether new stars are born even in the mud of the darkest madness, and because of their impeccable brightness, they still rise to the sky, or whether the star periodically must endure, be subjected to a very rigid, barbaric form of mental darkness, sink for a while, and then when it recognizes itself with the last cry and possible victorious shout, detach itself from the living mud, which constantly like a black hole devours its unique light, its supernatural consciousness.

Retro-evolution versus permanent, constant, almost formalistic evolution and the renewed, radical human descent into the embrace of devolution… the resurrection of the same mentioned devolution, as a reaction to the pressure of the suicidal modern world and its completely foreign and runaway, insane reactionary thoughts.

Today, if something, anything, does not constantly evolve, modern science and its faithful companion, man, consider it something that belongs to the past and must be expelled from any thought topic or possible palpable probability at all costs.

Nothing good can ever come from a stubborn, rusty nail that threatens the environment, the human and animal world… perhaps, if we are part of a very down-to-earth consciousness in which every possible danger must inevitably be averted and as a foreign thought sterilized by chosen guardians of modern thought. If no one ever stands on that same nail, if a person doesn’t give themselves a chance to make mistakes, is progress really progress, or can we only discern the potential of that progress, its true purpose, in certain predefined parameters, that is, can we find its rudimentary truth only in a highly controlled environment…

Nothing is left to chance, and when nothing is left to chance, humanity silently passes by the end of the most beautiful work of its existence, imperfections, and its accompanying waves of irregularity, which have led the scattered artistic, inventive brain to new discoveries and a new human era.

When this-worldly and otherworldly dynamics unfold on the invisible reins of economic dictate, man and his spirit will always emerge from that endeavor as the defeated side, accompanied by a subtle fleeing self-awareness and stoic conviction that everything was probably meant to be so. The result has always been inevitable, and everything is just the bare and dull work of human action, which at the same time summons the soul when needed, but when it doesn’t suit, it flees mercilessly from it, and from a true coherent answer, which would finally give a deeper, fairer meaning to its short and trivial existence.

When the quality of thought is no longer important but the theatrical form of subsidy, marked as feeling, which happy or unhappy thought carries and shapes the world that is always on the edge, always just one step away from the darkest possible existential and mental abyss.

Right-wing and left-wing thoughts have ultimately become useless because if the human ability of logical reasoning and a higher level of human composure as a category to which empathy belongs have been marginalized, stylistic martyrs, surrogates of the once highly esteemed sequence of human thought, then the person who is at the center has no inductive influence on reality.

Everything becomes a pure coincidence or part of a random dance of invisible atoms.

They say so, but maybe they are wrong, maybe someone who is exactly at the center of this newly created nonsense, chaos of matter and antimatter, is just that random traveler who has all the predispositions for further development and even the possibility of becoming the last survivor after the flood of common sense. and the reduction of the inevitable apocalyptic doomsday, a revered term in the mouths and eyes of many intellectual Bolsheviks.

People rarely associate intelligence with something dark, a person who is intelligent is automatically an infallible saint with a magic staff who does everything he does for the betterment of all humanity, regardless of his own ups and downs and other possible randomized problems that he will encounter on his way to personal “enlightenment, to his own unavoidable illuminations”.

Everything is dedicated to that one moment when the work of exceptional intelligence flows into reality and all the inhabitants of this planet instantly have access to that new technological miracle, given by an even more chosen genius.

Right or wrong…

In a homogeneous, highly rational, and above all ideal world, where creation is sacred, this way is a welcome form of utilization of extraordinary intelligence and it makes sense, when the whole nation gives its support that extraordinary people can give extraordinary knowledge, skills, back to the whole body of that same nation.

At the same time, in one way or another, all the subjects of the same nation suffered together and fought for that progress.

A cleaner, a school principal, a taxi driver, a worker in a mine, and a little kid who bought a poster of that future work so that the mastermind of that operation would do his best, the most he can do at that moment without a predetermined monetary reward as the final loop of that monumental feat. .

Paid, sold intelligence or intelligence that, like the Egyptian pyramids, has defied many times, the very sharp teeth of time.

A soulless society enhances this first norm, and the consequence of such an extremely careless thought is a constant predictable, and repeatable very malicious curve, the immediate ruin, degradation of all civilizations and human thought, which in every new period, new attempt to form a functional civilization, must inevitably rediscover what has already been discovered, and is subject to an unnecessary reset, because the accumulation of knowledge, which is based on a true finding, is not the primary task of what we call intelligence.

People keep reinventing the wheel, it sounds very tedious and utterly unproductive…

The moment will come when devolution will once again take on its irresistible form, something that arouses an indescribable feeling of longing in people, how to return to the old thought path, how to avoid another crazy reset and an even greater intellectual abyss.

In man, there flickers a positive thought accompanied by a certain amount of fear to avoid the possibility that acquired knowledge will not be adequately supplemented again, and the binary active unit will return to a state of immovable zero.

Man is the sleeping savior and the active executioner of his destiny; perhaps this time he will choose this first solution.

Maybe sometimes everything shouldn’t be left to the gods, and in a timely fashion, the gods must let people freely move towards their chosen destiny, whatever it may be.

Human responsibility erases the existence of gods from human consciousness, and they themselves become a higher consciousness, and according to this premise, new rightful gods.

Gods who understand that if something is taken from the element we call nature, that element is all around us, something must necessarily be given back, without the usual pretentiousness and pretense that prevails today and rests in a very selfish bosom of the so-called eLites.

The transformation of man is also the transmutation of human thought together with his environment or if you wish his closest surroundings.

The question that smolders is the following: do we, really have to look for the new man in a continuous chain of constant evolution, or can we find him in the immediate normalization of the human condition, physical and mental, which leads to the process of devolution, which in this case means a greater form of human consciousness, an increase in cognitive autonomy, higher levels of observable intelligence and thus creates a total opportunistic sequence, contradictory to the opposite and today’s popular, orthodox scientific method, which points to the act of very opposite manifestation in this specific context of named events.

As always, time will reveal all possible and bizarre potentialities entangled in this extremely complex, we could even say audacious “project” in the making.

Too many slaves in this world
Die by torture and pain
Too many people do not see
They’re killing themselves, going insane

Too many people do not know
Bondage is over the human race
They believe slaves always lose
And this fear keeps them down

Watch the damned (God bless ya)
They’re gonna break their chains (hey)
No, you can’t stop them (God bless ya)
They’re coming to get you

And then you’ll get your balls to the wall, man
Balls to the wall
You’ll get your balls to the wall, man
Balls to the wall, balls to the wall

You may screw their brains
You may sacrifice them too
You may mortify their flesh
You may rape them all

One day the tortured stand up
And revolt against the evil
They make you drink your blood
And tear yourself to pieces

You better watch the damned (God bless ya)
They’re gonna break their chains (hey)
No, you can’t stop them (God bless ya)
They’re coming to get you

And then you’ll get your balls to the wall, man
Balls to the wall
You’ll get your balls to the wall, man
Balls to the wall, balls to the wall, yeah

The original text in all his “glory” can be found here:

Paradigma Konstantne Evolucije i Uskrs Visoko Pragmaticne Devolucije

Paradigma Konstantne Evolucije i Uskrs Visoko Pragmaticne Devolucije

Read full story

Stay frosty!

Cheers to All!

Harry Vox in Four Pieces



“The Jews who obviously own and control the US Government sent the old Jew Janet Yellen and Anthony Blinkin to wag their Jewish fingers at Chinese leader Xi for outproducing the US in Green Technology such as Solar Panels and Lithium Batteries. Its not hard to do because we don’t produce Solar Panels and Lithium Batteries in anything but negligible quantities.

If the Jews who invented the bogus “Climate Change” money machine really cared about going green they would, you’d think, be grateful to China for making 80% of that green technology.

But since the Jews who run the show in the West don’t give a flying fuck about the climate or its change – they, like all of the Jewish parasites throughout history who seek to interject themselves into our lives without our consent, only care about money and control – they are angry that they are not dominating and profiteering from all aspects of their little green cash machine – the artificially created “climate disaster”.

So the two Jews went over to give Xi a piece of their Jewish mind and Xi didn’t even meet them at the airport. No red carpet either. No big reception, Xi didn’t even see them till they were almost gone. He gave them a rather modest accommodation. In other words the Jews no longer have the power that they once had to go to a foreign leader and say, “Do what we say … because we’re Jewish!”

The whole “I’m Jewish so do what I say!” is not working any more. People don’t like Jews, except in Washington and on the Jewish owned cable news networks for the informationally Illiterate elderly.

Everyone else throughout the world has suffered enough under the boot of the Jewish money power. We’re tired of “Jew”. We’re tired of the lies that are needed to prop up the Jewish banking mafia and the Jewish narratives, we’re tires of the Jewish stoked wars, we’re tires of the Jewish bribed and blackmailed US politicians selling us out to the Jew money power.

We’re tired of “Team Jew”” – Harry Vox: Jews Angry At China – for dominating peaceful, green, productive tech – while we only make weapons. (


“Piece by piece our “leadership” is putting into place the necessary laws and policies to strip the assets of the Baby Boomer generation and transfer those assets to the Jewish banking mafia who is in the shadows directing the structural asset stripping operation.” – Harry Vox: The Confiscation Economy (


John Mearsheimer is a superb analyst and has a career of courageous independence, fearlessness and has made significant contributions to our understanding of how the power structures work, no question about that. But those days are over and he’s failing in his analysis. He speaks of the Western states as entities with politicians who are seeking to make decisions for the betterment of their state or people. This is an absurd view.

The Western governments are nothing more than former nation states who have been taken over by Jewish financial cartels through bribery, blackmail and garden variety corruption of a generation of “leaders” all of whom have ZERO concern for the safety of their own people and ZERO concern for the survival of the state they lead.

They are merely instruments of a private group of Jewish financial cartels who operate through various fascistic organizations (mainly Klaus “dr Evil” Schwab’s World Economic Forum) which these Jewish cartels have shifted to in recent years to effectuate their gutting of the poor and middle class and the enslavement of their own people. In the past we’ve seen the Council of Fucking Reptiles, and Buildabetterburgers, and other fascistic groups but now its Dr. Evil Schwab who is their front man.

I have bad news for you John – Its an asset stripping operation, period. Its a bunch of cheesy short timers who have zero interest in the future of anything, its just a rush to parasitize the poor and middle class and transfer all asset classes including the single family home from non Jews to Jews. NO QUESTION ABOUT THAT. EASY TO SHOW, EASY TO PROVE.

These Jewish financial cartels often overreach on their rapacious assets stripping like that scumbag Steven Schwartzman and end up stealing too much of the pension funds of American retirees and may even get their own companies in trouble (while filling their own personal bank accounts with stolen loot) but there is no evidence whatsoever that any decisions – economic, military or social are made with the best interests of the respective states or the populations of those states. Zero evidence of such an absurd claim.

Its an asset grab and whatever murderous genocidal crimes that support such an asset grab – nothing more.

Here’s the interview with Mr. Mearsheimer:” – Harry Vox: Educating John Mearsheimer (



This is a crash course for US Military, US Intelligence, Police and other government officials and Investigative Journalists. This video is key to understanding how Israel has taken over all government military and intelligence agencies and managed to get them all to place their fingerprints on what was essentially a bioweapons development program targeting persons with Caucasian and African American genotypes and leaving Jewish genotypes unharmed.

Its not some grand Faustian deal with the devil that various persons within the military and intelligence agencies made when they participated in the biggest crime in the history of crime – the manmade covid 10 pandemic and the big pharma profiteering scheme that stoked and rode a wave of fear – nope, it was just garden variety corruption and greed and shortsightedness and manipulation.

They were all so thrilled to be given various titles such as “Fellow” and “Board Member” and a few morsels of privilege and displays of opulence and some cash and promises for more that the allure of these promises of more dulled their senses and UNWITTINGLY they were steered from the hidden hand in the shadows to participate and bring their agencies into a scheme where Jewish financial, foundation and think tank money steered a compartmentalized bio weapons development program where each individual US agency was approached to become involved in what eventually would become a bio-weapons program targeting caucasian genotypes and leaving Jewish genotypes untouched!

Here’s the study showing that covid was designed specifically to attack whites and blacks but to not harm jewish genotypes:” – Harry Vox: The Crime of the Century – An Investigative Methodology to Solve The Crime (

States tell World Health Organization and DC to go away!

This is from CHD Newsletter

World Health Organization, WEF, and DC get the middle finger. If you live in a country with representative government it is time to tell your representatives “We will not comply!” Some people do get it. This article shows what I think the term think global:act local is about.

The globalists must be shut down.

World Health Organization gets the middle finger!
Think Global Act Local

You can read more of our thoughts about health by clicking on this link to the Health section of Jack’s archive => Health

All 49 Republican Senators say NO to WHO’s Pandemic Treaty and IHR amendments in public letter to President – Contributed by Dr. Stuart Bramhall


Click to access WHO-letter-to-Biden-signed_5-1-24.pdf

By Dr Meryl Nass

Thanks for reading The Most Revolutionary Act! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Pledge your support

All 49 Republican Senators have written to President Biden and told him to withdraw US support from the proposed Pandemic Treaty and IHR Amendments.

Please share this with every official you know. Explain the danger. We need our Representatives to sign on to HR1425, which is the companion bill to Ron Johnson’s S444, the bill from which this letter originated. We need our elected representatives to protect us from the WHO d’etat.

Neither of the two WHO-proposed documents is in a final form. How can nations make a decision to turn over health sovereignty to the WHO with treaties that are not even completed 3 weeks before the meeting at which they are scheduled to be voted on?

Neither draft document provides any value to any of the 194 member states of the WHO. Instead, they put the keys to lockdowns, information control, medical mandates and a library of potential pandemic pathogens into the hands of former terrorist and WHO Director-General Tedros Abhanom Ghebreyesus and his staff of clowns masquerading as serious scientists and doctors.

Here is the WHO’s Executive Director and top infectious disease doctor, Mike Ryan, who can barely speak in a coherent fashion. Watch the video.

And never forget the Spy Doctor, Jeremy Farrar, is WHO’s Chief Scientist. He took a 2/3 cut in salary to move to the WHO to inveigle developing countries he had funded as Director of the Wellcome Trust into supporting the WHO Treaty and Amendments. He also started CEPI with Bill Gates in 2017 at Davos. CEPI is the NGO grabbing billions of tax dollars to roll out unlicensed vaccines in days, not years, with no liability for the manufacturer, the nation, the doctor and the WHO. When not jet-setting between G20 meetings, Davos, the World Bank, etc. he was answering to his boss during COVID, the former head of MI5, who herself is now co-president of Chatham House.

He almost single-handedly invented the bird flu “crisis,” and poisoned several thousand subjects in the Recovery and Solidarity trials he funded and helped initiate, overdosing them with HCQ in order to sink the drug, prolong the COVID pandemic and clear the pathway for remdesivir and COVID vaccines. As the WHO website states,

Dr Farrar was the founding chair of WHO’s R&D Blueprint and the founding director of the International Severe Acute Respiratory and emerging Infection Consortium (ISARIC) that led on to the work of the RECOVERY Trial and the UK COVID-19 Genomics UK Consortium.

There is plenty more dirt on Jeremy but I’ll stop now.

Then there is propagandist Maria Van Kerkove, who worked under the notorious Neil Ferguson predicting millions of deaths from the H1N1 swine fu in 2009 at Imperial College, and has been a lead fear-monger on bird flu.

During the 2009 H1N1 influenza pandemic, Dr. Van Kerkhove worked directly with WHO’s Global Alert and Response and Global Influenza Programme to support the pandemic response. Her main activity during the pandemic was to coordinate the WHO informal mathematical modelling network for H1N1pdm under the leadership of Professor Neil Ferguson

She specialized in field research to gather data on the highly pathogenic avian influenza H5N1 (HPAI/H5N1), with a focus on transmission risk from poultry to humans.[11]

Van Kerkhove has been an honorary lecturer at Imperial College London since 2015.[11] She has been Scientist, Technical Lead MERS-CoV at WHO in Geneva, Switzerland, since March 2017. She is currently the head of the Emerging Diseases and Zoonoses Unit in the WHO Health Emergencies Programme.

Neither of the two proposed documents explains why we need pandemic governance, nor why we would choose such governance from an organization best known for:

  • its ineptness,
  • its lack of qualified staff,
  • its capture by Bill Gates and the Pharma industry,
  • its massive failures providing on-the-ground assistance for pandemics,
  • and its corrupted medical advice.

Now we need to make the rest of the world aware before the WHO votes coming up in 3 weeks.



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Jack Heart’s Conversations from the porch – Episode 51


Yum, yum eat ’em up!

The Real statistics for the new Human from Iceland
The old Human you can see where it dropped when the new Human was put online
Over one and quarter million hits
International hits I may add

Below are two links where you can purchase Those Who Would Arouse Leviathan. I would suggest you buy it in hardcopy, not because I make more, I actually make the most from Amazon E books, but because you will avoid giving Amazon any money. Frankly you should be shooting Amazon employees in the street, Google too.

Those Who Would Arouse Leviathan by Jack Heart, Hardcover | Barnes & Noble® ( Those Who Would Arouse Leviathan: Memoir of an awakening god: 9781736288016: Heart, Jack: Books

Balanced Thought as the Driving Force of Humanity and Miniature Lobotomy, Constant Third, Invasive Problem by Happy Parrot


Beyond known stars

behind the synthetic, overlapping farce

Awaits… philosophic quarrel of honorable saints

Living Nightmare

or instant gratitude

wasted unbalanced fortitude

rightful forgiveness

packaged as immortal solitude

Humungulus awakened in an empty jar

Self-important Conscience soaring to go far

Take care of Red or Blue Tzar

Pick your part

try to look

especially smart

no matter how close

or distantly far

vote for the right side of the entropic law


chained diffusion


manic ignition

Beyond Good and Evil

lies the naked heart of Evel Knievel

Is he real?

has he signed the mortified deal?

Can he, at last, feel?

White Cosmos arising as black fruitless onion,

refreshing doubt is hidden like a savage-released oxymoron

nature in her serenity slowly peels

tortured pain, steadily keels

fractured starlight and valiant moonlight,

eugenic facade wasted on one singular sight

Are you born wrong

are you born right?

Can you fight

do you…

already belong to the forgettable pleasure of hungry night?

Amazing quotes for Holly Army of Semantic Robots

Amazing songs for those who will be born

Pavlovian(dog) Cathedral of Herd morals

Sophocles’ pyramid of ingrained marching orals

metaphysical construct in man-made door

a stoic house without functional floors

a dead heart without an organic odor

Can independent thought

be cheaply bought?

Is nothing built free…

are, we just too blind to see?

Extinction always needs a willing mouth

nothing else to empty mind has been thought

For inflated, starving coalition

all sane world is the daring opposition

to misguided Machiavellian ambition

Unreal world

always breeds jagged swords

misguided questions are raised

without the right admiring words

Somber untruthful accords

always produce

stagnant and opaque-looking lords

They don’t rule


just whip the but of the exited mule

Beyond Good and Evil

whispers the land of Thule

Is the hyperborean moral cruel?

Does a dominant fire

needs Antichrist as boneless, yearning crucified fuel?

Is artistic madness just another, inferior verse in the epic duel?

Are we subconsciously torn?

Beyond Good and Evil

are we purposelessly born?

Beyond Good and Evil

moral code evaluates the presence of the Devil

Does the naked heart of Evel Knievel



the judgment of




Are we all the same

do superb thoughts

carry all the



“More or Less Edited, a Whole Book Could Be Written Here, but I Always Seek New Things and Stimuli, and I Don’t Have Time to Dwell on One Article for 7 Days or Two Weeks.

The Lack of Perfection, Imperfection of a Work or an Article Sometimes Is a Spontaneous Act of Perfection, and on the Other Hand, at Least You Know It Wasn’t Written by Artificial Intelligence.

How Much Freedom Does the Human Mind Truly Need, Which Shapes Its Reality… a Smile, a Whisper, the Need for Love, Pain, Sadness, or Something Completely Different?

“Three problems and you’re not here,” as we jokingly say here.

When the world, seemingly completely insane, simply spins and repels from you, are we in reality or is that reality revolving around us dishonestly trying to destroy our good day or even better, good morning?

A mass of irregularities screams at our souls and tries to drag us into a muddy ditch full of darker truths… because if you don’t feel bad, fearful, if you’re not constantly afraid of players like Putin, CGI Biden, the green Ukrainian windbag, Americans, English, Iranians, nuclear holocaust, then are you really here?

Reality as a special item, matter that with its transparent, unobtrusive tendrils pulls the human mind by the nose behind the scenes where a boiling cauldron full of all kinds of spells constantly brews, a place where all possible probabilities cry out on a slow fire gently simmering in it and await their welcome day, awaiting their bold chance to happily transform from one state into something different, something that a human would call – material.

What would happen to the human mind if some things were simply acceptable for everyday, casual individuals, for example, Chemtrails, something visible to the naked eye, not requiring the proximity of a “cursed pentagram” and the invocation of the darkest creatures from the haunted closet, frightening, indescribably and unimaginably strange Lovecraftian beings full of treacherous, deceitful, and highly suspicious intentions…

Just one thing would change consciousness both of an individual and of the human family as a whole and would shake the very foundations of the current timeline.

Secondly, when a person renounces gods, God, and takes responsibility for their actions while not losing spirituality, Gnosticism, what would be the result of that existence?

Would mosques, cathedrals, pagodas, and similar places where a normal person encounters and kneels before the presence of God be sustainable as something truly necessary, even if built with a great deal of beauty and immodest extravagance?

If God is everywhere and there’s no need for a mediator, a third mediator, a third problem… what then arises in the human mind and what is the inevitable result of this new human adventure, which cries out to be known on a deeper level yet unexplored.

From a boring mosquito with only one mapped purpose (reality), an unstoppable mountain can emerge. The lack of this higher knowledge is currently the biggest problem of our human existence, disbelief that super tiny things can trigger a cascade of changes and that man is not just a weak being floating in the embrace, often too big, of the universe, which is at the same time greedily terrifying and too monstrous with all its elements, and certainly too rebellious to change anything.

Therefore, our protagonist is always in a state of constant physical and mental hibernation.

The result of this thinking, human condition, and its static expression is more than obvious; we’ll hardly find a new Hercules, a new Tesla, a new Melvin, etc…. “When no one risks, humanity doesn’t profit.”

Others thrive, those who hold the illusion that keeps this world alive.

If a person ever separates from their beloved illusion and static hibernation, mental and physical masturbation whose ultimate goal is always a one-way, eventually two-way street, that same person will have a better world, will find themselves, God, and maybe even see themselves in what is currently presented or seen as an omnipotent God.

There has never been a better time for this outcome. If you’re tired of gods, big or small, “those or those,” start changing things, first small ones, and from small everyday, seemingly insignificant things, great unstoppable ideas will be born, and a new braver man who won’t just easily become or be a future submissive inhabitant of this wondrous “planet.”

Man is essentially the third problem, but the ruthless truth indicates the following: if he doesn’t solve the smoldering problem in his head and heart, he’ll always be in search of a gray eminence, a new miracle, or an even more omnipotent God.

The war of gods for the human mind and man’s war for his better tomorrow… do gods really care about human status, current and future status, does man care about what’s happening around him today if it doesn’t concern him?

The stable paradox, where two diametrically opposed entities don’t care but at the same time want something better without too many moves and made changes.

From these two problems, a third one will easily arise, which will become an unsolvable puzzle or just a small obstacle on the path to a better, brighter future, in which man’s awareness of himself and his often-deserved stupidity separates him from it, thus becoming a brilliant star that selflessly moves his reality and creates, manifests a world that has not yet been seen or even glimpsed in the still small and often timid human mind.

One thing is for sure; the quest is ongoing, maybe not in everyone, but man is slowly knocking on the door with a pile of questions to which he has not had adequate answers until now.

Between good and evil, between good and bad gods, is man the third problem, and the only sensible solution to that, let’s call it the third problem, is to elevate it to the level of the left and right functions and solve the constant occurrence of the third problem, when all three forces are unified, the balance between them according to the laws of physics is established without the need for any external intervention. There are no irregularities, and reality becomes a perpetual motion machine without friction, without changing oil, unnecessary element of “bloodletting”, wearing out components that move the creation engine, and other effects that accompany such a closed element/system.

The energy residing in such a space is properly distributed, and no one seeks anything more from another present subject.

The problem that arises: then, in total balance, can they all find peace and progress without constant influences from the outside, or are they all condemned to a good but very boring life path forever?

Does creativity die with peace, or does creativity enhance and multiply within all elements occupying space in such a newly emerged subject…

I think I’ll write more in Croatian in the future; people ask me, they request it from me, so since I’m already writing, why not fulfill their friendly request, and let’s make time with a glass of cold, longing, and most of all delicious beer a bit more interesting.

So, here’s a morning brain teaser for those who want to hear, and for those who are still a little deaf.

Greetings to all.

Good morning, and an even Better Day.”

Translated from Croatian…I hope it is readable and understandable, nothing has been changed.


Running from stubborn time

running from vagabond life

awaken and blessed

naked and undressed

Fragile moment, falling as eventful Comet

Stolen loveless touch has been stranded and forsaken

Can the heart-shaped love be violently taken?

Can the sanctity of life be ruthlessly faked?

are you mistaken…

are you blindfolded?… but awaken

On the red flashing gallows, are you already taken?

Running from pain-ridden walls elevated in eventful youth

running from sharp, constant itching tooth

Bringer of esoteric pain

Voice of domesticated enchanted restrain

Truth as the vigorous dagger, arising in tainted youth will try to explain

What was lost will try to reclaim

spoiled hours that are made tyrannically insane

will beg for the accused name

White Wolf will try to devour his betrothed domain

regain or restrain

nothing in the Cosmos is born in vain

Dancing on the coil of lifeless edge

drowning in self-pity and cruel reckoning revenge

venomous pledge

cutting momentum of downtrodden edge

Somber signs are written in their own crooked Stonehenge

The world in him is trebling for acts of resolute Revenge

Bastardized point in time

darkened words, taken away in the simplicity of careless rhyme

Now your life road is the remembrance inserted in a golden shadow

now your way is a transcending, rampaging mouth of Long Barrow

All look and greet like strange creature reanimated Marsh Mallow

The potent road has become an oath that is laughably narrow

life becomes the sound of whispering bones and drained marrow

Running from time

chasing the animalistic dime

running from stolen life

asking for one more hard-hitting rhyme

staying alive

awaken and blessed

naked and undressed

moment, forcefully stolen, but never really forgotten

touch resolutely forsaken, your iron will never shaken

Can the heart-shaped love be violently taken?

Can the sanctity of life be ruthlessly faked?

are you mistaken…

On the red flashing gallows, are you already taken?

To Read Article in its original Croation: Uravnotezena Misao kao Pokretacka Snaga Covjeka te Miniskulna Lobotomija,Konstantnog Treceg,Invanzivnog Problema (

Actual Stats for the Human for April


I got nothing to say. I’ll let the real stats speak for themselves. I would say send money, guns and lawyers but the last two are just as useless to me as your current government is to you. If you want to help, send money, those of you that have and are these kinds of stats are the fruits of your labor, we can’t do this without you…

Between the Moon and New York City


Current Lifetime (2014) Lifetime Lifetime

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Wheels by Mike Kay


He watched the lights crest the hill in his rear view mirror. Who said that mirrors lie? It was no apparition. The police cruiser pulled parallel and stopped, window to window. His left arm rested easily on the door molding, with his window all the way down he was enjoying the cool night air. He looked over casually to the cop, who had his interior light on.

“Is everything ok here?” The cop asked.

“Yeah”, he replied. “I’m just letting her cool down, then I’ll be on my way.”

The cop looked at him doubtfully.

He just grinned at the officer.

The cop knew quite well what went on out here, at night, on this desolate stretch of road. In the end, the officer had nothing to go on, so the cruiser drove away slowly, as if making a statement through a lack of speed.

An oppressive state creates a clever populace, says the Tao.

He understood the cop well enough, law and order, follow the rules more or less. It was one of a dwindling number of jobs that offered a future, unlike his …

“Why do you want to? Why do you have to? I mean, if there is a God, we’ll all find out”. Her ancestry was from Finland, and it showed in her blue blue eyes and high cheekbones.

She meant the world to him, and he wanted to tell her, to explain, to have her share in his longing. He wanted to explain the thirst to her-to really actually know. He didn’t have the words to explain those experiences, or the wisdom to tie them together. He tried to say something about the space between worlds, the place where this reality ended, and the compulsion to drive right through, but she just looked at him with a growing puzzlement, and a sadness that could have broken glass.

Hers was a belief and trust in the substance of this world. She had returned from the doorway of death brought on by Scarlet fever. The fever had left her damaged, wounded, but with a fierce desire to live here, now. She couldn’t understand anything else, to her any curiosity beyond this physical world was a waste of time. Life was better spent embracing the world with her arms. She wanted to share that with him, and that was about all that ever she did hope for.

Their eyes locked and for a moment there was no space between her femininity and his masculinity. They flowed easily together, winding in and out, a rolling current in a fresh cool stream eager to find its way down the mountain, until they reached the rapids.

“You gotta stop”, she said with so much heart that it felt like a push.” Racing isn’t the way”.

Another set of headlights broke his reverie. No cop this time, the lights were especially intense in the mirror. The car approached slowly, as if the driver had spotted him on the shoulder, yet was hesitating to drive up to him. It took a ridiculous amount of time for the new arrival to pull up beside him with the well tuned throaty mumble of a performance engine. In the drivers’ seat was Paul. He stared in anger out the passenger window where Lisa, his wife was buried in his rage. Paul now projected all of that over to him.

“So, you all alone then?” Paul stared through the dark.

“All alone as agreed, except for my co-pilot”.

Paul’s’ head jerked as he tried to stare into the passenger seat. Unable to give Paul a break, he lifted up his arm and shook a stuffed toy wolf at him, laughing.

“You always were fucking weird, man.” Paul climbed back into his seat.”I’ll see you at the strip”.

Paul’s Mustang roared and was off in a plume of exhaust fumes and burnt rubber.

He reached down and keyed the ignition. The supercharged hemi barked to life, snapping and ticking at idle due to its overcammed, over juiced tuning. The whine of the supercharger was barely audible at idle. It wasn’t even apparent, built as it was to sit underneath the shaker hood. The whole car was pretty much a sleeper, aside from the fancy Crager SS rims and the four hood pins.

The Hurst shifter fell precisely into his right hand as he slipped into first, released the clutch and drove away. In the light of his headlamps the white dashes in the center of the road blurred into a single white line. He honestly couldn’t remember what it was that made Paul turn so completely on him. All he could recall was that they were on pretty good terms, and then at one point they weren’t. It might have been that time Paul got busted for an open container of alcohol, but that was so long ago he wasn’t sure. In any case it all came down to this grudge match. They had both thrown in $500 to make it especially real, which was held by Kevin at Sadies bar and grill.

Heading to the strip, he had to admit she was right, and he needed to stop. Nobody stayed in the same place in this life for all that long, and although he was actually good-exceptional even, when it came to racing, he knew it was dangerous, illegal, and offered no future. His life was always like that, it seemed.

The street race scene was all things to all people. The dilettantes with daddy’s money could cruise around with their pretty girls mooning everyone, because they had it made. Wide eyed kids could get a load of what genuine racing machines were like. Street racing gave the cops something to do besides reducing the world’s supply of donuts. It gave young, savvy mechanics a test for their skills. It gave holier-than-thou types something to rage against. It gave girls who felt that wild streak within themselves the chance to be with the bad boys.

Then of course there were all those more serious things, lawyers making money, judges studying more law, jails justifying their budgets. Racing even threw work at the coroner.

He walked into racing the way he got into anything, by a series of events that he never intended or fully understood. Maybe it was that night he found himself at the strip after a day of too much of everything. The engines roared and the naked headers spit out nitrous boosted flames. He grinned like a fool then, something in his blood stirring.

Of course he got in at the end. Literally it was at the end. Despite society finding all forms of work and profit from racing, society was determined to give it the same fate as steam engines and slide rules. The cold tendrils of dead banality had found racing, and they were clamping down-hard.

New housing developments sprouted up like weird diseases in the forests and fields. More stoplights and more traffic and more taxes and more antennas and more TVs rotting brains and selling people a world they had no right to believe in…

“You are late! Do you know how late?” A hostile frown.

He looked into the hard, washed out eyes of the old woman. Her business suit more than hung off her frail figure. What wasn’t wizened away was her seething disapproval, and her harrumphing over his dirty hands, disheveled hair, and black t-shirt.

“I just had a death in my fam-“, he began honestly before being cut off.

“Save your sob stories” she glared at him.

It occurred to him that as usual, he didn’t really know why he was here. He already knew it was going to be a giant waste of time. She was fumbling for something, and he saw the pack of thin lady’s cigarettes, followed by a cheap lighter. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes’, he replied, more than a little vindictively.

The old woman looked genuinely surprised, and if possible, even more resentful towards him.

He could sense it all, a woman determined to win in a man’s world, who spent her life buddying up to the shallow business suit types she could out think without trying. She learned their jargon, and their mannerisms, and with that came the reason for the season, money money money. She traded in her femininity for the tough demeanor she believed she required to survive. She was her future now, with nothing more than gate keeping duties designed to keep the riff raff away. After an hour of pouring over his records, her analysis of his career prospects in the world of real jobs was unsurprisingly dim. He had none.

Top gear was always a balancing act. His car simply had too much power for the crude Detroit chassis, despite his improvements. It wasn’t that the car was skittish, or wandering, it was just that at top speed it was impossible to maneuver. The rear leaf springs hunched down with the posi-traction Dana axle. The front torsion bars, aided with a hefty anti-sway brace were only happy going forward. If any sudden defensive action had to be taken, it simply wouldn’t occur.

His ride was built for one thing, to get to top speed as fast as possible. He made it a personal rule to never check the rattling needle of the speedometer. The tach was all that mattered, watching the rpms curve upwards, and shifting to keep the mighty motor in the zone as the world slowed to a crawl even as it became a tunnel all around him. The sounds would fade, and it seemed that his corrections on the wheel happened in triple time. A million and one fateful things could happen in the tunnel, and if even one leaked in he was probably done.

Here, alone in the tunnel, with speed hurling him headlong into an unknown place he could almost taste the space between worlds. It was a feeling, beyond words, beyond even oblivion. He couldn’t picture it, but he could never dismiss that it was real.

Power down was always the time of abandonment, a return to earth, re-entry into standard time. It always seemed somewhat off, like it wasn’t truly solid, not exactly as it seemed, even as he bore the scars from it, the busted knuckles, the black grit in his pores.

From power down one arrived at the aftermath. This was when the talking returned, the aroma of the tunnel still strong, still singing the siren song. Slowly the banality would creep in, like the cold in a winter night. It would whisper about all the things it demanded from its slaves, and assure him that he was amongst the ranks of slaves.

The strip was several mile long arrow straight blacktop. The racing was mapped out along its length, in half mile sections in order to confuse the cops. The real course was a do-or–die quarter mile that ran some thirty feet above the surrounding fields, with no shoulder or turn off other than down below. It was no more than a mile from the primary staging area, and perhaps two miles from the T intersection at strips end. The road was easy to block off, and during major events it was tough for even competitors to get through. That was not going to be an issue tonight.

He slowed as he approached the strip, noting wryly that the authorities had preceded him. A mass of vehicles clogged the staging area, and no small number of them bore various types of flashing lights. Some cars were finding their way out of the mess, but he had no desire to run that gauntlet. Slowing to a crawl, he found what he was looking for, a little known and less used turn off that led to the slumping ruin of an old abandoned house.

He wove up the rough two-track, killed the lights, and shut the big motor down. Climbing out, it was only him under the stars. In ancient times, it is said, wise observers watched the stars. They stayed up all night, watching, and they learned the secrets of the destiny of mankind.

He played with his keys, tossing them high in the night air and letting them fall down into his scarred, dirty hands. It seemed then, that he faced a choice, and that choice was clear, open, yet with its own cost. He could leave it all, and return to his blue eyed babe. Kevin would keep his $500, Paul would call him a wuss and strut around with his ego on display…or he could wait it out and see if Paul was still around.

Laughing into the night he stretched out his arms, taking in a deep heady breath. Somehow the stars felt brighter, and he could see the cloudy trail of the Milky Way. The tyranny of standard time left him then, and there was no present, no future or past, there was only the flow, and the flow was everywhere and it was everything. He breathed and the flow passed through him. It felt like a near tickle, but with a force to it. He became that flow and for a moment or an hour or an eternity he was simply motion.

More than anyone else, it was the heir to Plato, Aristotle, who came up with a view on time that still has its hold on people today. Aristotle called his description a riddle, most likely because he couldn’t claim it was anything else. He said that the future, and the past didn’t exist, and that no one could describe the scope of the present, because in thinking about it, time became either future or past.

Looking to the stars, there was no riddle of time, there were only hungry wolves chasing one down, sometimes closer, sometimes farther, but never out of view. The grim cold terror of the wolves’ jaws clamping down upon his prey meant there was no past, and no future, and if there be a present at all it hangs upon gleaming canines hungry for dinner.

It was all just the flow, and some things surfaced and others sank but there was no stopping the immensity of it. And this immensity reached its shore line, and upon it he stood in silence, for the night was notable for what it suddenly lacked, the sound of vehicles.

There was the soft hissing of the breeze, upon which the subtle sounds of the night world drifted, but there were no vehicles.

The drive to the staging area was quiet, empty. Not a person, not one car was anywhere to be seen. He listened to the crackling idle of his motor. He was about to turn around, to leave it behind, when in the distance another car appeared moving extremely quickly. It was, he knew Paul rushing onwards to meet him. Just like earlier, the Mustang pulled up right beside him. Lisa rolled down her window and gave him her trademark toothy grin.

“Paul says he wants to beat your ass”. She was waving something in her hand, and he realized it was a ticket-or three. “The cops hit us with these, and now he’s mad”.

As if on cue, Paul stuck his head completely out the window, looking to all the world that he did indeed reach a new level of angry. “Get to the start weirdo, and I MEAN NOW!”

Start was a simple white stripe that bisected the road. It had been repainted dozens of times due to wear from the racing. Finish was an identical stripe, only in yellow, to alert the drivers to power down. Start was where all the action was. Whoever shaved the launch best had the advantage. If the cars were close in capability, the best start won, hands down.

Lisa was out on the road, standing at pole. Pole was right between the cars. She carefully coached the drivers to form up right at the plane of the white line. He really couldn’t believe she was going to flag start from this position. It was literally the most dangerous place for a non-racer to be. As she carefully untied the red scarf from around her neck, he realized she was putting herself there to force Paul and him to launch as cleanly, and as in control as possible. At that moment he found a new respect for her. Her courage was on the level.

If the start wasn’t perfect, if there was the slightest fishtail, or broken flywheel, or whatever there would be no more Lisa.

She raised her scarf over her head, fluttering in the night breeze, lit up by the glow of the headlights.

He knew exactly how to shave the launch. He knew the rpm threshold where the big paws would bite into the pavement without breaking loose. He knew exactly how much play was in the clutch pedal, and he took up the slack.

Lisa’s arm came down fast, and as the red scarf just brushed her knee he was gone. No fishtail, no parts flying. In the mirror he caught her image stand back up, the scarf still in her hand. She was watching them go, and for a moment she stood before vanishing into the night.

The roar of the motor was clean, the howl of the supercharger perfect. He knew Paul was behind, close behind him, that he had beaten Paul out of the hole. The tachometer tapped 6,5oo rpm, and he was into second gear and climbing. Still no view of Paul, although he felt the Mustang somewhere off his rear quarter panel, hungry, trying to sink its fangs into him.

The car hunkered down on her springs as the Hemi drove sheer horsepower down into the paws. Final gear was reached and he gave the wolf all of his legs to run to the end of the world and beyond. Ahead, in the tunnel, the glowing yellow line was in view.

In a flash he was past it. Having won, he felt the heavy change from fury to an incoming release he knew so well. He was waiting for it, as he eased off the throttle and the entire dynamic of the car began to change with it. He waited for the feeling to fully arrive, yet it never did.

Something had occurred which was outside of his experience. A brilliant multicolored yet overtly white light completely wiped out his vision. He could no longer feel his hands, or his feet, or his weight. He had no sense of speed, or of much of anything. Like the opening of a drain, a whirling disc of darkness appeared, at first small and then growing rapidly larger until it consumed him and all the light and erased him from existence.

As if suddenly, shockingly becoming aware he was rising from a great depth. The trauma of darkness released him, and he floated up, up, an air bubble in deep water effortlessly rising to breach the surface.

Where he stood, or actually hovered was between two great wheels, one above and one below. He had emerged from an endless darkness to be between them both. “Wow,” he suddenly thought,” the space between worlds.”

He saw her then, moving up through the fastness. He got the definite impression that this was no ordinary woman. She seemed at once to be gigantic and also of mortal stature in a way he couldn’t truly grasp. Her form was surrounded by a glowing darkness, scintillating. Her legs were long and beautiful, slightly revealed through her split side dark gown. She approached with a magnetic grace. The right side of her face was simply a black outline with her perfect white skull showing within. She waved her arm in a simple gesture and the mist of the wheels parted. He saw Lisa sobbing uncontrollably, and the smoking ruin of the Mustang, what had been Paul mangled within. It took him a moment to catch the scent, but he did know the aroma of his own car, and upon finding it he tracked it to discover the beautiful ruin. His own dead eyes stared at him, even as the great motor still ran, the mechanical spirit not going easily to the darkness. In a way he thought it was kind of a waste, but then it occurred to him that there probably was no other way it could have gone. It wasn’t like he ever spoke the language of this world.

‘You can stay here awhile, if you like, a lot of people do”. He felt the words inside him, and realized that it was Death herself speaking.


“Yes”, the words were soft, magnetic, beautiful.”Some with spiritual gifts remain to act as protectors for those they love”.

He watched the wheels reform and he was longer next to himself, looking into the flow, he saw his blue eyed girl, how sad she was, for far too long, and how a simple yet strong man was turned into her stream, and how her sorrow became acceptance, and acceptance became love, and they moved together away.

“I feel so light”, he said.

“Um hum”, she replied. “Nothing is holding you down anymore”.

“So even here we choose?”

“Only some get to choose”.

He gathered himself then. “So, if I stay, will it be easier, or harder on those alive?”

She seemed to move closer. “You must decide”.

His hands opened and everything fell out of them. His expensive Snap-on sockets, his drill-and-tap set, his keys, his license, his electric bill, all the harassing letters from all the agencies, all the threatening messages, all the greedy fingers wanting to squeeze everything from him, and in the end his girl with the blue, blue eyes released her grip on his fingers, and let him go.

The darkness around beautiful death seemed to grow then, until it filled all vision, absorbing all things, all hopes and all fears and all lust and all hate. The press of nothingness came on, a cool dissolving, a falling as cool and as effortless as a great foaming wave.


Into the flow falling.

His name was pulled from his lips, and like a fire it burned in geometric intensity before being absorbed. The very strands of his thought unraveled and became words in a language he could barely comprehend before whirling away and merging with great fountains of fire that seemingly just appeared. All that he was, from the pain of his mother who brought him forth with her joy and energy into this world to the blood running down his broken knuckles, to the final moment when his fragile form was torn asunder by speed and steel simply whirling into the great fire, feeding it wildly, almost exhaustively, before giving way to pure silence, pure space.

“You have chosen,” he felt her words, “to go onward”.

He expanded suddenly, a flash of invisible light. He was so much of everything, it could no longer be contained, a center of nothing, no identity. Into the vastness of the cosmos he had gone.

Cover Photo: Pinterest

Saturnday Coffee Thoughts…

Golden Torus
Golden Torus source:

“Somebody/Something” knows how to tune the ethereal electromagnetic waves that comprise physical reality as we measure it. Why is it that that we are seeing such an increase in “Foo Fighters” and glowing “Tic Tacs”, the orbs in the sky, sea and close to the ground making crop circles? These “objects”, in my opinion, are localized manipulations of the fabric of reality called space-time. Rabbit trail warning…we shall see what the Skinwalker Ranch team comes up with regarding the orbs and the Einstein-Rosen bridge they have supposedly determined is on the ranch. Can a controlled wormhole also provide means for projection of the etheric waves through space-time? Hmmm, why not? There are empirical studies showing faster than light electron pairing. But, can one make a bridge on demand?

Wormhole source:

If it is all for show, a projection upon the consciousness, “who” is the Director and Producer of the program? Is it you, or me? Are we on the cusp of discovery or destruction, or both? Is there a big picture beyond our individual bubble of perception and thought? Maybe.

From Edgar Cayce to Seth Speaks “channeling” has grown to encompass an entire corner of the internet; much like the supermarket tabloids before mainstream electronics, or UFOs. So, it appears we receiving data for incorporation of “fringe” thoughts and philosophy into human consciousness. News that doesn’t fit the good/evil, Gods/Devils seems to be the order of the day.

As I develop new patterns of thought, leading to new thoughts and actions, I ask to what end is all mainstream media manipulated? Why? As with the foregoing regarding channeling and foo fighters I am left with the question to what end is disclosure (manipulation of mass consciousness)?

There are many pieces of the puzzle shared with Jack Heart every day. Those pieces are often found in the comments offering an alternative philosophy to emerge as those thoughts once offered often become reality.

These were my thoughts this morning as I was having my coffee after Jack and I discussed the latest information passed to him and after my scan of the latest comments on the Human. I post these thoughts as an opening of discussion and sharing of the intuitive knowledge which the contributors do so well in your comments and posts.

Cheers, Phil