Hello, Dear Reader 😀
Today we have a brand new missive from Okie Text US Devil for you…
*/plumes smoke… Okay, that’s fine but we’ve got a new missive from Cade to format now, so…*
You are dumb…and I can prove it.
Wait…no…that’s not right. I fucked up…lemme start over.
You are dumb…and you can prove it.
NOW you are dumb and I can prove it.
Thanks for the assistance.
Interesting to think about the reach one may have beyond their cage(s). Who…or…what, provides the means, which allows the animals to become unrestrained.
Or, less restrained.
And no, I’m not gonna explain what I mean.
Not now anyway.
How’s that look?
Able to follow?
OK then. Excellent.
Let’s keep going, eh?
The tools that become available due to certain circumstances arising. A cascade of cause and effect type events which are channeled into a particular eventuality.
EX A: If you are a cop/police officer/peace officer/whatever, and you get a citation or award of some kind, you can likely utilize/leverage that citation or award to your benefit for the remainder of your law enforcement career. A tool. A tool, for opening doors, previously closed to you.
EX B: If you are an employee of a company, and you work your way up the ladder, you can likely leverage both your ascendant tendencies and your position(s) in the hierarchy to better open doors previously closed to you. Never sick, great attendance, always on time, will choose work over family or social life, always trying to better yourself for the benefit of the company, not afraid of making enemies, indifferent to the woes of others, don’t care what others think of you…you’re going places and you know it because you’re proactively working to make things happen.
The metrics in that tweet above…only one of those books are familiar to me, and pretty sure it has at least something to do with the topic of “generational theory” (Behold A Pale Horse). Prolly why the tweet caught my eye in the first place. Generational theory has been appearing on my radar a lot recently, culminating in learning that this Bannon cat who is a wig at Breitbart is purported to be a frothy-mouthed lunatic on the subject.
Me? I know little to nothing about generational theory. I know it’s loaded with archetypes that label people and put them in categories, and it does the same with “turnings” as to what certain generations will do and why. It appears to be very cyclical, has a very Circadian Rhythm, Schumann Resonance, nature’s seasons type of vibe to it, a “time to every purpose under heaven” vibe to it, but it also has a long con/short con and “the old tricks are the best tricks” kind of vibe to it too. Overall, I can see its appeal. Has a “great plan” or even “greater good” kind of tone. Shows some big tumblers turning that were previously more or less invisible. Removes some veils. Provides some insight for those who choose to look.
Let’s get back to those metrics in the tweet above, and think about vectors which point to certain spaces in space. But in order to find this space in space, let’s take a detour which may provide us with a bit of clarity as to our destination.
Our basis for discussing anything at this point, is channeling a someone or a something towards a particular eventuality. This is likely to be a “master/servant” type of exercise where one desires to assert dominance over another. In the tweet, someone reads a few books, certain nosy fuckers are out there snooping as to who is reading what, and when some critical mass is reached on both sides, an action will result.
Let’s us plumb the depths further as to what the tweet suggests will help one to attain this critical mass.
I think she or whoever made that image may have got that fourth book title a bit wrong. No biggie tho. I found the book referenced.
Fuck. I was wrong about Behold A Pale Horse being somehow connected with generational theory. Another detour is required in order to find out how in the hell I fucked that up. How I misassociated that particular book with that particular theory. Emphasis on the word “how”.
I’m thinking that’s as far as I need go to solve this particular mystery.
Mystery = SOLVED! Next?
Those who have been on the victim end of…erm…”certain deviations”, are unlikely to be inclined to play seduction games. They’re likely to be interested in the dynamics of relationships, sure. Especially the “text book” types of relationships: birds and bees; boy meets girl; go to school, get a job, get married, have kids, etc.. But seduction games?
Short games are gonna be long-odds because they’ve previously been stung, and maybe even been stung more than once. Prolly gonna have to go long-con on that number.
You know those birdie things that sometimes fly around in the sky?
Great, let’s keep going.
You know those fishy things that sometimes swim around in the sea?
Great, let’s keep going.
You know those animaly things that sometimes migrate around on the ground?
Great, let’s keep going.
You know that compass thing that points North?
Great, let’s keep going.
Welp, lemme see if I can muster a ray of sunshine for you fucks wandering around in the haze of your obsession with brainwashing. First, it is very unlikely that you are being brainwashed. You are more likely to be subjected to braindumping. They ain’t trying to clean your shit up because they’re too busy burying you in a glut of shit for you to try and sort. You’re drowning in it. “They” only need throw you bones, and you sort it of your own volition because you think it actually means something. When the shit don’t add up, you even think that means something. “There must be more.” And you likely self-deprecate, they ain’t gonna disagree with you, and now suddenly, you, just weren’t good enough, because they did not accept you.
Q: You ever tried accepting yourself?
A: How 'bout you give that a whirl.
Yeah, I know, it’s tough. There’s all these rules out there…all these expectations. We have to rely completely and totally on other human beings in order to find our place in the herd. There’s no other help available to us…just other humans.
If only there were something, somewhere, that wasn’t humans or a something that is not even “human”. A something out there which gave me some direction. Gave me some bearings as to how I can find my own feet, and place my own feet on my own path. But alas…there is nothing.
Speaking of utilizing what is right under your own fucking feet and using what is dangling over the top of that thick skull of yours in order better get your bearings, better keep your bearings, and better find your way…
Saw that tweet the other day and thought “yeah, I get ya, astrology is a cryptic crock of shit”…woah! Wait a fucking minute here!!! No…no, no, that’s…all fucking wrong. Wrong, wrong, and motherfucking WRONG!
of your astrological sign…
affect your life…
in any way.
Holy hell…that couldn’t be more wrong, I thought to myself as I munched in an ever slowing pace on the most recent bite of my salad.
I put down my cellphone, which coincidentally contains many rare-earth elements, placed my metal fork into the ceramic salad bowl, swallowed the now masticated mess of salad I had been chewing, leaned back in my metal chair lined with a polyfiber and foam seat cushion, and looked up at the sun shining through a hole in the broken clouds hovering in the blue of the early afternoon sky. It wasn’t often that I treated myself to an outdoor lunch. And it occurred to me the strangeness in that of all days, today was the day I would bumble across a tweet where such clarity could be attained via a perfect set of circumstances.
Here I sat, on the surface of a planet, outside in the sun, which is a star, munching on a salad, which comes from this planet and is encouraged to do so and nurtured by the sun, and along comes this tweet implying that stars and planets have no effect, whatsoever, on my life. I leaned forward in my chair, folding my midriff somewhat in half whilst clasping my hands together and somewhat bowed my head just above the salad bowl resting on the table. My posture may have given an indication of prayer, but that’s not what was happening here. It didn’t feel that way to me anyway.
Confusion raced through my mind at the absolute clarity of seeing the ridiculousness of astrology…smashed, by the absurdity of truth. Or at least, a truth. This is not prayer although my body feels as if it is at prayer. Am I praying a confused prayer? Am I confused about how to pray a confused prayer? A “God? What in the bloody hell are you up to?” kind of prayer? No…it doesn’t feel like that. Not even a little.
Suddenly, my lips, almost involuntarily mumble a something…”The person who posted that…what, in the fuck, are they thinking?” My ears hearing my own voice somewhat snaps me out of my contemplative trance. “Are they thinking at all?”
BTW, most of that didn’t happen. Just taking a little artistic license with what actually did happen. In truth, I read the tweet, and simultaneously had two thoughts.
ONE: I can relate dude. Astrology, and certainly in its institutionalized form, is confusing as FUCK. Its linear. ‘Cept more like a blender that unchops things instead of chopping them. An assembly line where abstract bits and pieces of nonsense go in one end, and a completely assembled and operational something comes out the other, and only those who built the factory know how any of it works are capable of understanding the factory’s intricacies.
TWO: Dude, this chart is clever, funny, and completely fucking wrong. We live on a goddamn planet which is next to a star, and we are completely and totally dependent on both stars and planets for anything and everything that happens in our life. And if it weren’t for distant stars (and planets) virtually anything and everything that humans have developed would be a virtual impossibility. Or at least, extremely difficult and certainly much different than we do things now.
So yeah, knowing what you now know, which version do you prefer? Does it even matter? I told both versions, both are the same tale, same message, same events, same person/people, same truth(s).
Two short ones in a row.
Whatever is this world coming to?
*Revelations galore, Clicky. Go get us a suitable Song to end with…*