— 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗩 𝗚𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗽 (@TheTVGrump) July 23, 2019
Want to know Boris Johnson better? Here's some background on the man who'll become the UK's #NextPrimeMinister pic.twitter.com/YWFvjiBlnZ
— BBC World Service (@bbcworldservice) July 23, 2019
Story Time: The Imagination Virus
*Apt image, Clicky, considering this is my second Stranger Things post… /pats snout… well done…*
As promised, Dear Reader, a second post about the hit TV show ‘Stranger Things’, but this time in regards to a short story by my friend Leggy. H.K Hillman has a rare talent for writing tales that linger long after you’ve finished reading them. His tale ‘The Imagination Virus’ also ‘synced’ with an experience I had in 1985 when I was 17. I mentioned it to him when we first became friends in 2014…
… So it was weird to see something similar played out on ‘Stranger Things’. Another ‘sync’…
*Yeah, it was like that, except purple, Clicky…/lights up…*
… Another ‘reality’ appears…
*/drags… Yeah, I could smell the difference, butt couldn’t see it… /stream smoke… And it was strange when JLL decoded ‘tonsils’ in his Mandela Effect investigation…*
… So I asked Leggy if we could reproduce his story here at the LoL. He agreed, so settle back, Dear Reader, and enjoy ‘The Imagination Virus’. Meet you for a Song at the bottom 😉
*******
The Imagination Virus
by H.K. Hillman
As Dale walked beside Julie, his nurse, he saw the other world again. The crisp, white hospital walls faded into the damp, mould-encrusted bricks he had come to know well. The flicker of tallow candles replaced the bright fluorescent lighting, their odour wiping out the smell of disinfectant. He didn’t want to look at Julie. He knew what he’d see; he knew how she would look to him now.
“Dale, are you all right?”
He stopped walking, the muscles in his face twisted in disgust. Julie put her hand on his shoulder.
“Dale,” she said. “What is it? Are you seeing it again?”
“Yes. It’s awful.” He couldn’t help looking at her. He shuddered at the patchy grey hair, the hunched shoulders, the sore-ridden, wasted body clad in soiled brown cloth.
She smiled, showing her few remaining teeth, black and rotting, and he could smell her graveyard breath, the breath of something that had feasted on decay. He closed his eyes, tight. “I don’t want to see this anymore,” he said. “I want to see the real world, the clean world. Not this – this monstrosity!”
Julie took his arm. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll guide you the rest of the way to the doctor’s office. It’s just a little further. The doctor will know what to do.” She led him as if he was blind, slowly moving forward until she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Dale,” she said, “open your eyes. What do you see now?”
“I don’t need to look,” he said. “I can smell the candles, feel the damp. I know I’m still hallucinating.”
“Look anyway. For me.”
Dale opened his eyes. “I can see a doorway, in a wall of cracked plaster, showing bare bricks. A battered door is hanging in the frame and I can see light through the gaps in the boards. There’s a symbol, a cross, drawn in red on the centre of the door and some markings below it, which I can’t quite see…”
Then, abruptly, everything changed. He was facing a white-painted door with a frosted glass panel. The light showing through the panel wasn’t flickering, it was the focused light of a reading lamp. The tallow-smell had gone, replaced with the ubiquitous disinfectant smell of the hospital. He looked at Julie and smiled. “You can see the hospital now?” she said. He paused before replying, savouring her long black hair and perfect smile, the crisp white uniform that showed off her shape so well.
“Yes,” he said. “Everything is fine now. I see the door as it really is, clean and white with a frosted window.” He drew a long breath as Julie knocked, then released it slowly as she opened the door.
The doctor stood, smiling, then walked across to Dale, his hand outstretched. “Dale,” he said. “How are you today? How’s that other world of yours?”
Dale winced. These attempts at humour always sounded flippant to him, as though his condition were some kind of joke. He knew the doctor meant well, but sometimes Dale wondered if the doctor believed a word he said.
“The other world is Hell,” he said, not accepting the doctor’s handshake.
The doctor’s brow creased into a frown. “Had another visit recently?”
Dale nodded.
“Just a moment ago,” Julie said. “His hallucination is consistent, he always sees the same things in the same places. Where there’s a door, Dale sees a door, but it looks very different to him.”
The doctor looked at Dale. “And it’s always the same?” he said.
“It depends where I am,” Dale said. “It’s always the same for a particular place. It’s as if the hallucination is overlaid on reality, permanently, and sometimes I can see it.”
He thought for a moment. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been trying to remember what things were like outside. Before I came to the hospital. I can’t. I can’t even remember what I used to do or where I used to live. It’s as if I never existed outside here.” He buried his face in his hands.
“Relax, Dale,” the doctor said. “You did have a life, you know. You lived over on the West Side, alone, and you had a job. I’m afraid it wasn’t glamorous. You were a cook in a small cafe. It’s the virus. It’s affecting your brain, causing these hallucinations and amnesia about your previous life.”
“Can it be cured?”
The doctor smiled an indulgent smile. “We’re doing everything we can.”
“But can it be cured, or not? How long will I be here?”
“When you see the hospital all the time, and don’t see your Hell at all, then you’ll be ready to leave,” the doctor said. “You’re already seeing it less often. Only once today.”
“So far,” Dale said, curling his lip.
“That’s good enough,” Julie said. “The day’s nearly over.”
“That’s right,” the doctor said. “Time for Nurse Davis to take you off to bed. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”
Dale started to rise, but stopped halfway. He looked at the doctor. “Is it contagious?” he said. “It’s just that Julie – I mean Nurse Davis – and the other nurses spend a lot of time around me. Are they at risk?”
“Not at all,” the doctor said. “The virus is very hard to catch. The nurses are safe with you. Now, off to sleep with you.”
Julie led Dale back to his room. He climbed into bed, and she handed him his sleeping tablets and water. He had taken them every night without question, but tonight he felt like a change. He wanted to think, not to sleep. Dale didn’t want to offend the nurse so he put the tablets into his mouth and took the water. Instead of swallowing, he trapped both tablets between his cheek and gum, throwing the mouthful of water back as usual.
“Well done, Dale,” Julie said. After her routine of fussing with his bedclothes, she left the room, turning down the light.
Dale picked out the tablets with a finger and put them under his pillow. Sure, the staff would find them in the morning and they’d be annoyed with him, but so what? He was a patient, not a prisoner, after all. He lay back, enjoying the warm, clean sheets of the bed, and tried to remember his life before the hospital. He had been a cook, so if he could think of something, a recipe perhaps, maybe something would come back. Still trying to think, he drifted into sleep.
***
He was woken by the creak of a door opening. His bed was uncomfortable and his sheets felt rough and dirty. He could hear voices, talking quietly as if to avoid waking him. He opened one eye, just a little, and saw the doctor and another man. Both were wearing rough sheets of brown cloth which were draped around them like cerements.
Both were hunched and looked malnourished, both were covered in sores and stinking of decay. Oh great, he thought, another hallucination. He closed his eye and pretended to be asleep.
The doctor was speaking. “He’s making good progress. He sees the clean world most of the time now, he only sees the decaying world intermittently.”
“Good,” the other man said. “When will he be ready?”
“A matter of days.”
“The fundamentalists haven’t found out?”
“No. As far as I know, they don’t even know about our work.”
The unknown man grunted. “We have to be careful. They have spies everywhere. They won’t approve of what we’re trying to do here, they would consider our work blasphemy. Interference with God’s punishment, or something like that.”
“I know,” the doctor said. “Our staff are carefully checked, and no visitors are allowed.”
“Very good. What about the others, are they seeing the same things?”
“Yes,” the doctor said. “The other patients all show the same hallucinations as Dale here. We’ve kept them separate so we can be sure they’re not comparing notes. They all report exactly the same visions. The virus, it seems, works the same way on everyone.”
There are others, Dale thought. Others like me, with the same virus, the same hallucinations. Dale squirmed on his bed. It felt as though he was lying on a coarse sheet laid directly on the bedframe.
“Careful,” the doctor said. “Best not wake him.” The two men left, closing the door quietly.
Dale opened one eye. All clear. He opened the other. Bare-brick walls surrounded him, lit by a single guttering candle on the far side of the room. He put a hand onto the mattress – there was no mattress! He sat up, examined the bed, and found that it was no more than a few planks of wood with a coarse blanket thrown over it. A similar blanket covered him. His pillow was a sack stuffed with straw. On an impulse, he lifted it, and saw the two sleeping tablets he had put there earlier. So they were still
there, even in his hallucination. He hoped that was a sign he was getting better, that small pieces of reality were filtering through his nightmares.
As he held the pillow, Dale noticed his arms, bare in his filthy, coarse night-shirt. His skin was grey, his muscles wasted, and red sores oozed pus that dripped onto the bed. His left hand was missing two fingers, their stumps black with infection. Feeling an itch on his right forearm, he turned his arm to look at it and screamed. A large sore had burst, purple flesh was exposed and maggots wriggled in the wound. Still screaming, he beat his arm against the bed.
The door opened and the hag he knew was really Julie came into the room, followed by the doctor. Pushing him back on the bed, the doctor held him still while Julie tried to calm him. “Think, Dale,” she said. “Think of the hospital. Try to see it.”
“Why is he awake?” the doctor said. “Didn’t he take his pills?”
“Yes. I saw him take them. Dale, come on, concentrate.”
“Maggots,” Dale said, his voice a childish whine. “In my arm. Maggots eating me.”
“No,” Julie said “Don’t see them. Look at me, Dale. You can do it.”
“Yes,” Dale said. “Hallucination. Virus. Not real.” He stopped struggling, closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. He waited until he could smell disinfectant, then opened them. Julie smiled down at him, long black hair covering part of her face. The doctor released him and stood up.
“Feeling better now?” the doctor said.
“Yes,” Dale said. “It’s gone.”
Julie was looking at him, her brow furrowed. “What happened to your pills?”
With a sheepish expression, Dale lifted his pillow and brought out the two white pills. Saying nothing, he handed them to Julie.
“I thought as much,” she said. “I’ll get you some more.” She left the room.
“You really should take the pills,” the doctor said. “We can’t have you screaming all night, you know. You have to get some rest, and so do the staff.”
“I know,” Dale said. “I haven’t done this before. I don’t think I’ll do it again.”
The doctor smiled. “With luck, you shouldn’t need to for much longer. We think you should be okay within a week.”
Dale looked up, hopeful.
“There are other patients with your virus. Some of them haven’t seen the terrible world in days. If you follow the same pattern, one more week should do it.”
“That’s great news. So I just have to hold on for a week?”
“No guarantees, but I hope so.”
Dale lay back on the bed, grinning, just as Julie returned with a plastic cup and a glass of water. “Here you are,” she said, holding out the rusted tin mug. No! Plastic cup, plastic cup, concentrate! The mug wavered, became the cup again. Dale took it and swallowed the pills even before Julie handed him the wooden goblet. Glass! Glass of water!
“It’s starting again,” Dale said.
“Don’t worry,” Julie said. “The pills will take effect in a moment.”
Dale looked into her clouded red eyes and fell asleep.
When he woke, Doreen sat beside his bed. With her red hair in a tight bun, her lips in a tight smile, she was pretty, but nowhere near as pretty as Julie. Still, at least he could see her, at least he wasn’t seeing some rag-clad monstrosity.
“Good morning, Doreen,” he said.
“So you’re awake. I’ll get your breakfast sent in,” she said, standing and walking to the door. She paused as she opened it. “I hear you refused your medication last night. I hope there’ll be no such nonsense on my shift.”
As if he would dare. “No,” he said. “I’ve learned my lesson.” He had a fleeting vision of her as a twisted, infected horror as she left. Damn, he thought, the hallucinations are strange today, flashing in and out. That hasn’t happened before. He would have to ask the doctor about that, ask if it had happened to the other patients, the ones who had recovered. An orderly brought his breakfast and he sat up to eat.
Doreen returned just as he finished. “Up you get,” she said. “The doctor wants to see you.”
Dale’s eyebrows rose. “So early? He doesn’t usually see me until the afternoon or evening.”
Doreen pulled the sheets back. “Well, today it’s the morning,” she said. “Don’t ask me, I just do what I’m told.”
Dale slipped his legs off the wooden bed and climbed into the sackcloth garment. He clutched his head. Mattress. There is a mattress. I’m wearing jeans and a shirt. He took a deep breath and followed Doreen out of the room, along the white bare brick corridor. Gloss-white paint overlaid damp, mildew-covered stone. Fluorescent lights fought tallow candles for illumination. Dale shook his head.
“What is it?” Doreen said. “More hallucinations?”
“Worse. I’m seeing both now, one on top of the other, like a double exposure.”
“We’d better hurry along to the doctor.”
Doreen propelled him along the corridor, past white-uniformed staff with faces ravaged by infection, past roughly-made wooden doors with frosted glass panels, into the doctor’s room. She hadn’t knocked. The doctor looked up, surprised.
“He’s seeing both at once,” Doreen said, guiding Dale to a chair and pressing him into it.
“Oh dear,” the doctor said. “This could be serious. You’d better get a sedative ready.” Doreen nodded and left the room.
“What?” said Dale. “What’s serious? What’s happening to me?”
The doctor frowned. “Stay calm,” he said. “It’s the virus. Your body is rejecting it, cleaning itself. How are you feeling?”
“Scared. And confused. You said I used to be a cook. I wasn’t. I remember – something. I remember a laboratory. I was a scientist, wasn’t I?”
The doctor played with a pencil then put it down abruptly. “Yes, Dale, you were.”
“I worked with viruses. This virus. I was infected. What was it, an accident?”
The doctor stood, his crisply-ironed sackcloth flashing white, then brown, his strong, wasted frame striding, limping, to the window. “It wasn’t an accident.”
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t an accident, Dale. You infected yourself deliberately.” The doctor turned to face him. “You infected the others first, then yourself.”
“No!” Dale stood, knocking over the wooden box he had been sitting on. “No. You’re lying.” His hands bunched into fists as he faced the doctor, then he felt a sharp pain in his back. Turning, he saw Doreen holding a syringe, her red hair becoming a mottled grey as his consciousness fled.
He could smell iodine. Forcing his eyes open, he saw that he was lying on straw, damp and foetid, in a bare room. With a groan, he stood and walked to the door. It was barred from the outside. “Hey,” Dale shouted, banging on the door. “Let me out.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” The doctor’s voice came through the door.
“Doctor? Is that you?” Dale paused. “I remember. You’re Simon.” He spoke slowly, dragging the words from the deepest pits of his memory. “Doctor Simon Morgan.”
“Yes, Dale, it’s me.” The voice wavered.
“You’re my brother.” Dale leaned against the door. “You didn’t tell me.”
“It would have interfered with your treatment. Your memories have to recover on their own.”
“Why am I locked up like this?”
“For your own safety.” The last word was choked off by a sob.
Dale could still smell iodine. He looked at his arms. They were thin and grey, the red welts oozing pus. The wound on his right arm, which had been full of maggots, had been cleaned and was stained yellow. That was where the iodine smell was coming from. Why had they treated it? It wasn’t real. He banged on the door again.
“Let me out, Simon,” he said, “I’m hallucinating again.”
There was a long silence. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes I am. I’m covered in sores and this room is vile. There’s only stinking straw to sleep on.”
Another long silence. “It’s not an hallucination, Dale. This is the real world.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is the rotten world of my hallucination. The virus—”
“The virus causes illusion and forgetfulness. Those infected don’t see the real world any more, and don’t remember it. They see the world as it was before the war.”
“What war?” There had been a war, he remembered vaguely.
“The final war. The chemical and biological weapons war. You were working on antidotes for the weapons, but you were too late. The war took us all by surprise. So you worked on a new virus. This one.”
“Yes, yes, I know. The hallucinations are all my fault. I need help now, Simon. I’m stuck in my hallucination.”
“No, Dale, you’ve lost your hallucination. Your body has rejected the virus, so you don’t have hallucinations any more. You’ll start remembering more soon.”
“What do you mean?”
There was a deep sigh from the other side of the door. “This is it, Dale. This is reality. The war killed most people and those few of us who survived are dying slowly, hideously deformed by the weapons that were used. Your virus is our only hope. It won’t cure us but it gives the illusion of normality, of cleanliness, of life before the war. The other patients are fine, they believe they’re in a clean, wonderful hospital in a beautiful world. We’ll begin injecting more people with the virus soon.”
“What about me? Why not just inject me again?”
“It won’t work, Dale. You’re immune now. The virus won’t work on you.”
Dale slumped against the door. “So what next?”
“Soon we’ll all be seeing the clean world of your hallucination. Thanks to you, your work, your virus, we’ll all be able to enjoy life again. Oh, life will still be short, but it’ll be better.”
“You mean everyone will see the illusion of a clean reality.”
“Yes. Well, almost everyone.”
“Almost?”
“Everyone but you, Dale. Everyone but you. That’s why I’ve hidden you here, to stop the authorities killing you as they did the others. Those who the virus failed to infect. I can never let you out. You represent too great a risk, the risk of remembrance.”
Dale sank to the floor, sobbing, as his brother’s footsteps echoed among the drips from the damp walls.
*******
*That’s a cracking collection of short stories, Clicky… /smokes… sum times I fink the man’s on a nuvver plane…*
Dear Reader… Have a Song ❤
Adventures in Remote Viewing: Stranger Fins
*/rolls eyes… I agree, Clicky, the first two seasons of Stranga Fings did concern ‘Free Will’,… /lights up… butt that’s Free Willy…*
Dear Reader, after posting Cade’s latest Missive at the LoL on Friday evening, we settled down, in our respective locations – Southend and Texas – to remote view season 3 of the Netflix hit show ‘Stranger Things’. In terms of remote viewing bingeing, it was…
*/drags… Knot sure Cade liked it as much me, Clicky… /streams smoke… I fuckin’ loved it!*
… I’d already started to wonder how exactly I was going to shamble about it. Fortunately, Red universe Frank gave me the perfect opening on MEROVEE…
… And again when Clicky posted news there that the Big Apol! was experiencing a massive blackout, exactly 42 years to the day after the last ‘Great Blackout’…
*/smokes…*
… Strangely enough, season 3 of the series started with a blackout…
‘Winona Ryder plays a chain smoking mother, fighting for her children. She is also, or rather the spelling of her name, is a Mandela Effect.’
*Do ya fink that jigsaw image is kinda Shoe On, Clicky? …/flicks ash…*
‘What JLL says in that talk about ‘bio-tropic clues’ should interest anyone who has spent time here on the good ship Merovee, or paying attention to synchronicity in general…
bio (n.)
tropic (n.)
‘“All the clues in the world don’t count if you don’t know what crime has been committed.” – ‘John Lamb Lash – Follow Up on WYN WIN NONA Clustering and Biotropic Clues (25)’
“You have to know what the question is, in order to know what the answer means.” – Deep Thought – ‘Answer To The Ultimate Question – The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy – BBC’
*Aye, Clicky, deep finking ana luminous ball of entanglement…*
… Of course, given that ‘Eleven’ is a character on ‘Stranger Things’ and ‘Day of the Dead’ was the movie playing at the time of the first episode’s opening blackout…
…And that the New York blackout occurred on the 13th July (7), Clicky posted the idea that occurred to me over a morning cup of coffee and a cigarette, way back in 2013…
*An’ 24 hours in a day… /deep drag… It’s true, I am pretty much dead until I have a coffee and smoke in the mornings, Clicky…*
… Frank further replied with news of a hovering marvel, seen in Paris on Bastille Day…
*/plumes smoke…*
… Now, I don’t think Red universe Frank is familiar with ‘Stranger Things’, but the other movie to feature during season 3, was ‘Back To The Future’…
… And then Clicky posted a tweet from ‘Hopper’ from the New York blackout with a definite ‘Go West’ sync to Friday’s LoL Missive From ‘Merica…
*/stubs butt… Oh I see, Clicky! The ‘does ‘opper return?’ cliffhanger to Season 3… Will he?*
*Clever… /nods slowly… Okay, Clicky, go choose a Song…*
…Anyhoo, that’s my ‘Stranger Things’ shambles, Dear Reader. I have another in mind to post, that concerns an extremely spooky short story written by Legs. That’s a treat for later this week, so make sure you come back. But for now… Have a Song… ❤
Missive From ‘Merica: Bundle!
*/lights up… Let’s keep the top and tail short and sweet, Clicky… /drags… I have a remote viewing date tonight… /plumes smoke…*
Cade and I have been remote viewing the Stranger Things series this week, Dear Reader. I want to finish season 3 before I write anything about it, but rest assured, a shamble is formulating in this noggin of mine…
*Dagnammit, Clicky! I said short and sweet… /flicks ash… Dear Reader ain’t gonna spend ten minutes listening to that. Not when there’s a fantastic missive to devour…*
… Luckily Cade touches on the series in his missive below. So enjoy! ❤
*******
I’d like to tell you a story…
about a man named Jed…
a poor mountaineer who barely kept his family fed.
I’d like to tell you that story…
but I’m not going to.
Happy Friday Shit4Brainz
^Skrillex – First Of The Year (Equinox) [Official Music Video]^
Welp, this is one way to get someone to “take you to their leader”…
Intentionally giving lawmakers and weapons designers/manufacturers reason(s) to use those laws and weapons…
great idea!
Thanks for justifying their reason(s) for existing. I’m sure the fines will be a welcome windfall, as the prison time is likely to choke the living shit out of the legal system for centuries to come, and create the need for more and bigger Gitmo and Joe Arpaio types of “correctional facilities”.
But lets think practically
The automobile has made us somewhat stupid as to the logistical nightmare that this A51 invasion would be. Last night I was watching a documentary that was talking about the Second Fitna (Second Islamic Civil War) and they were talking about how long it took for the Umayyad to pull their troops out of Mecca and return to Damascus because the king had died, and someone killed his heir not long after. The documentary I was watching is actually trying to make the argument that “Ancient Mecca” is actually Petra, and not the modern day Mecca…
but that's not really what was on my mind
What was on my mind was how in the hell you pull an army out of an area that you just got to, irrespective of the distance(s) you have to cover. Supposedly, the Umayyad had only gotten to Mecca 40 days before, and now it had to disengage, pull out completely, and does so in about that same amount of time…40 days. Ironically, there’s a more modern logistical nightmare like that if the thought of thousands of people in the desert doesn’t tickle your fancy.
Retreat From Gettysburg
I watched something on that recently too…and…holy shit…what a fucking nightmare. But I know that warfare prolly isn’t your cup of herbal tea, so lets keep it more realerist of all…
Burning Man
I guess they are up to around 70,000 attendees for this thing, it is quite the feat to support that amount of people in the desert for a week, and this ‘Area 51 Get Stun Gunned Fun Run’ is going to host 300,000 people…over 4x more. Even if only half showed up, you’re still talking over 2x Burning Man. So lets think about what is going to get you to Rachel Nevada…assuming you idiots are planning on hitting the base from the North. You are going to drink every gas station dry. ‘Cept for you dolts driving a Smart Car or Prius or a Tesla.
Who...in the FUCK...would take an electric car to the desert?*
Of course, the government is going to have to respond to your onslaught, so its possible they are going to commandeer or restrict every gas station within 200 miles of the base. You may have enough gas to get in, but you won’t have enough to get out. You’re going to fuck over a lot of the locals in the process, so it is unlikely that visitors of any kind will be welcome in the future.
(pun intended)
Better bring plenty of tents since accommodations will be few and far between, and bring enough water to drink at least 8 litres per day. I know I’m rambling, and this Facebook thing is stupid, but my mind is awash with how in the hell you’d ever get even 1/10th of that many people remotely close to there. “Strength in numbers” is not always a true statement.
Woodstock
That’s a social bum rush that turned out well. They didn’t think their shit through either.
*I’m not talking about engineers testing electric cars on the Bonneville Salt Flats.
^Tenacious D – Storm The Gate!^
My suggestion is to show up early, get arrested/detained immediately. At least you’ll have a place to stay, you’ll be out of the heat, food and water will be available, and you’ll have a nice clean place to shit and paper to wipe your ass with until the shitstorm you created, itself, passes. You get you social badge of honor of “being there” to wear around your social media sites, you’re safe and snug thanks to the gubment… and the best part? You still paid for the accommodations via your tax dollars. Its win/win.
Being…there
Hrm
Area 51…Being…There
Hrm
A51BT
sounds catchy...kinda like the same way that barbed wire is catchy
^F’ing Rant | Rory McIlroy’s rigged Canadian Open win, June 9, 2019 & Kyle Lowry jersey tribute^
What are you gonna do with these alien remains? Shove them in your mom’s refrigerator like the idiots did with the Demidog in season 2 of Stranger Things? I bet mom’s fridge is a long ways away, you’re in the middle of the desert, so how long you figure before that fucker thaws out and begins to rot. Or worse, wakes up in a bad mood, tries to eat your brain, discovers you have no brains, gets even more pissed off, calls in the mothership for a rescue, and vanishes from this planet forever.
Seriously, have you given thought to what kind of social damage an alien showing up once, leaving, and never returning would do? You’ve got your proof, but only for you. Everyone who follows is going to think you and everyone around you were morons, hallucinators, uninformed bullshitters, story tellers and/or liars…prolly all on drugs too.
Sound familiar?
It should. Just about every culture that came before us can be accused of the same, and the theme is the same all over the world. The Long Gone Gods. Gods and monsters. Mystics and Titans of all kinds. Gone forever. Never to return. Prolly never existed in the first place. Buncha uneducated idiots telling tales after school/making shit up because they weren’t smart like us. They didn’t have…SCIENCE!
Our new god(s)
^Iron Maiden – Flight Of Icarus (Official Video)^
Speaking of flights of fancy, we sure are flying close to the sun/Sol these days. I wonder if that’s a good idea. Not saying we shouldn’t do it, but this new religion of Science requires/demands the unquestioning belief of the followers in much the same way more traditional religions do. But Science still omits a shitload of us, all in favor of the clergy themselves.
Sound familiar?
It should. But, that’s why I write in the first place. I’m not gonna win any awards or make any cash, but I will hopefully leave something behind for my children. Fill in some gaps, pass along some ways of looking at things that are neither faithful nor rebellious. Hopefully allow them a bit of guidance + the freedom to do what they need to do in their own time(s) and in their own moment(s). I’ve learned that there are times when the best thing to do, is throw the rule book(s) out the window.
Improvise
There are other times when you should follow the rule book(s) step by step, and without fail. You can’t remember everything. That’s why there are rule books and manuals in the first place. Or so an aircraft mechanic told me once.
Makes sense
^Why the Parker Solar Probe is NASA’s most exciting mission | Michelle Thaller^
An interesting vid, but the analogy she gives regarding a camp fire getting hotter the further away you move? That’s…not really accurate. Heat here in our context…rises. Convective activity. Not to mention that during the Tudor period, they found out real quick that it gets a helluva lot hotter above the fire/in the chimney than it does in front of the fire. Not to mention that they found out that the gases themselves and the soot/unburned stuff is pretty goddamn flammable.
Think about it like this…heat, really doesn’t go “up”…it goes out. Actually, it goes up and out at the same time. But if you see a chimney burning from space, the smoke is going to be going out, not up. A “spew” rather than a “rise”. But yeah, it does both at the same time, depending on your orientation/location. So what she is talking about regarding heat traveling laterally…is not…really…accurate.
I would imagine that much of our Sun’s matter/mass at and around the surface actually acts as to keep the temperatures more constant/consistent. Much like room temperature water or molten metal or even salt in a sodium reactor. However, in the case of molten metal or a sodium reactor, everything in the immediate area is gonna be hotter than hell because of the change in the medium for conducting heat.
Wait...did I just state the obvious?
I guess I’m wondering why science/scientists are wondering why the corona is “hotter than the sun itself”.
^KISS – Hotter Than Hell (Live at Winterland ’75)^
I wonder sometimes if matter/energy can begin moving so fast, that it becomes immeasurably cold. Maybe even that the surrounding environment becomes ridiculously hot. Like say…
lightning
Prolly unrelated, but there’s gotta be something going on that prevents the flow of electrons from becoming constant in certain environments. I know that prolly doesn’t make much sense considering the nature of materials science – I’m actually thinking about static electricity and aircraft more than I am thinking about naturally occurring lightning – but there’s got to be something that sustains cold other than just/only the absence of heat.
Blah
^No_4mat – 1992^
Um…
Q: What do you want from these aliens?
A: ???
Seriously, what can they possibly provide for you? Is that all they can do? Provide things…for you? This seems more like government angst than it seems like some natural interest/curiosity, but that’s prolly because I’m still steaming over season 1 of Stranger Things. Yeah, I watched it last weekend, have written a bit about it, but you’ve basically got different groups of assholes fighting over…
Eleven
Doesn’t matter whether it’s that pack of creepy assholes in their government hideout, or that creepy pack of nerds playing Dungeons and Dragons in their basement…they’re basically the same people at different times. The kids start talking about Eleven as if she’s a weapon…a tool for them to use. Before long, everyone is doing the same shit. She’s something to be feared, and everyone wants to get their claws in her for various reasons. So again, I gotta ask…
Q: What do you want from these aliens?
A: ???
You want disclosure? You want proof? Or is access what you are really wanting? Can’t say I blame you really. There’s plenty of places that I’d like to visit and poke around. My itinerary and reasons for visiting these places might differ slightly from yours. Some might be similar tho.
/shrug
^Trentemøller: Moan^
Most people don’t give a fuck about the water itself, they want control of the tap. Others want to control the pipelines.
Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam
Was watching a doc yesterday on Antarctica, and the mission itself was more of a fisheries expedition than it was a research mission. Not to mention that the musical score, the editing and the narration made the whole thing seem like a commercial. But it seems to me that “business” is only willing to fund science if there is a return. And business is going to have to be in cahoots with government in order to finance the mission in the first place, so yeah…
a triad between science, business and government
That said, if you want control of the infrastructure that provides information, build your own. Hell, I thought that was the purpose of Social Media in the first place…give you a voice. So…what have you done with it, this voice you now have. Have you been honest? Have you been forthcoming? Do you actually tell the truth, or do you simply espouse to the fact that you are telling the truth, and you are you spewing whatever will get you the most votes on election day? Wait…what’s that? You never thought of likes and shares and followers as being the same as votes?
Weird
I’d imagine a smart fucker like you woulda been all over that.
^Alice^
Oh, and here’s that documentary on the Antarctica exploitation, if you wanna watch it. The documentary was posted on YT on July 9 of 2019, but the documentary itself is a National Geographic documentary from 2008 called Expedition Antarctica.
Expedition Antarctica
So yeah, an 11 year old documentary repackaged as something new in the now. If you’re wanting to be timely, current, and on the cutting edge of discovery, this show may not be for you.
^The Secrets of Antarctica | Full Documentary | TRACKS^
Would be nice to find a copy of that Paul Watson movie/doc At the Edge of the World. I bet Roob would enjoy that. Yeah, Watson is accused of being a bit sketchy, but EVERYTHING is sketchy, so not sure what the problem is with sketchy things. In fact, if it wasn’t for sketchy shit, the Internet prolly woulda died long ago. TV too. And radio. And film. And photography. And print. Hell, is media the only thing keeping us alive? Well, maybe that and oral tradition.
The Aroostook Triangle
That appeared on my radar yesterday, and I’ve been contemplating to concepts of gossip and rumor a lot lately. Hell, most of this post is about rumor and gossip, it’s just that a lot of it gets packaged as some kind of official and/or authentic something that is reliable because of a mark or seal or something. Which, did you know that Twitter has “authenticated” accounts?
About verified accounts
Excuse me…”verified”, not authenticated. So yeah, the tap itself has a placard saying that everything is A-OK. That’s no guarantee as to what is in the pipeline tho, nor its source(s). Most information is aggregate anyway. Not clean and pure like single-malt Scotch whiskey.
😉
^CHVRCHES – Lies^
I guess that “single-malt” refers to batches of a particular production run that have not been mixed with leftovers from previous runs? I have no idea, and pretty sure I’ve never drunk a single-malt Scotch. Too fucking expensive. I ain’t spending $150 on a bottle of Scotch. I can buy several fifths of Dewar’s for that, or maybe a keg of beer. Not that I have a place to keep a keg nor a means of keeping it cold. Maybe someday I can afford both a kegerator and a bottle of single-malt.
^Fever Ray ‘When I Grow Up’^
Anyway…it’s 10:24 on Friday morning, been at this for a while, my butt is frozen to the side of the bed from sitting here writing all that bullshit above, and I guess I better get prepared to watch the rest of season 3 of Stranger Things. I don’t like much of anything of what I’ve seen thusfar. A bunch of angsty yelling and everyone trying to tell everyone else what to do/not do. The Snow Ball was kinda funny. I couldn’t decide if it was more Napoleon Dynamite or Fish Under The Sea Dance. Or Carrie. Or Footloose. It did have a Napoleon Dynamite song in it, but maybe the Snow Ball was actually not trying to be any of those previously mentioned things. I mean, it’s a dance and school dances, unlike alien landings or paranormal shitstorms, are quite a common occurrence here in the US of A.
Are school dances portrayed onscreen taboo unless approved by the Bomont, Utah Community Standards and Morality Council?* Or is this where union groups and guilds come into play. I had no idea that the entertainment industry was so inundated with guilds and unions, but it is.
*this is a nod to the movie Footloose (fyi)
^Joke Theft and Cryptomnesia^
You want to know things. Me too. I guess the question is…
Q: How do you want to know it?
A: ?? ¿
You can kill two birds with one stone that way. “They” are gonna be equally interested in how you know what you know, as well as what you know. And knowing is half the battle. No wait, surprise is half the battle. Anyway, yeah, both halves of the battle are important, and how you know what you know is equally as important as what you know. Some considerations to sequencing might not go amiss either. Chronological, topical, contextual, alphabetical…things like that.
Reference
Some reference points get a little…loopy. Especially when someone is pulling your fingernails out with a pair of pliers. You’ve only got so many fingernails, and getting them yanked out makes concentration a bit difficult.
^Deadmau5 – Sometimes Things Get, Whatever || HD^
I do wonder what you think you’re gonna find on the other side of that fence other than miles of desert, a shitload of snakes and scorpions, dehydration, sunburn, some giant runways, secret aircraft programs, a shitload of toxic waste(s), and a bunch of gung-ho types with automatic weapons who are more than willing to deal you out some government issued bullet wounds. Even if you find what you are looking for, then what? Haven’t you seen Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade?
^The Judys – Grass is Greener^
cYa | cFa
^Cinema – Skrillex^
*******
*Burning man, Clicky… /stubs butt… Fought so…*
Have a wonderful we kenned, Dear Reader… And have a Song…
Three Evenings In July
Dear Reader, I’ve been rather on my own this week. My good friend, LoL regular and remote viewing partner, Cade Fon Apollyon, a.k.a. The Okie Devil of Text US, has been gainfully employed selling fireworks for the past 3 days…
*He should have gone with the Combo, Clicky… /flicks lighter… *
*/lights up… Defo on the Combo…*
*Great Scott! …/drags… And wot wiv enter the dragon… /stream smoke… Sounds like Leggy…*
*/smokes…*
On Wednesday evening I tried writing a post for the LoL…
*/flicks ash… Yeah, I decided to post it on Merovee instead… /drags…*
… Butt decided to visit the Red universe instead…
Ben gal u r u.
Been trying to write a post about the front page of the Echo newspaper this morning…
A chap named Ben drowned whilst on holiday in Benalmadena. Knot-eyes his surname is Lloyd…
https://www.echo-news.co.uk/news/17744476.kind-hearted-ben-lloyd-dies-while-on-holiday-in-spain/
Spanglish…
https://roobeedoo2.com/2016/09/09/a-little-bit-of-franky-spanky/
See ‘Lloyd’ (Joe Turkel) and Danny Lloyd (‘Danny’)?
https://www.etymonline.com/word/ben#etymonline_v_11031
Back to the front page. Three stories are mentioned:
Page 13 – ‘two arrested as cops target London gangs on trains’. A train crash starts the Franky Spanky shambles. As well as last weekend’s shambles…
https://roobeedoo2.com/2019/06/29/adventures-in-remote-viewing-syncing-beasts/
And again in Monday night’s remote viewing with Cade…
Page 3: A pun 😉 ‘Tyred out: Car stripped for parts.
And page 7: the story of the unfortunately Ben, caught in a riptide, first tribute paid by Levi (Evil) Ripley…
Cig gone aye Weaver… Back to ‘Wanted’…
So page numbers highlighted on the front page of the Echo are thirteen, three and seven. 1337 appears in comments in the Franky Spanky shamble…
https://roobeedoo2.com/2016/09/09/a-little-bit-of-franky-spanky/#comment-1329
I decided to stop and post these odd synchronicities here instead; orange is the smell of ‘Shining,’ according to Dick Halloran in the book 😉
Oh and the Jim Beam fire occurred in Versailles, Kentucky…
On Thursday, Legs and Poppy were finally back online after having their internet connection knocked out by a bolt of lightning at the weekend…
*Great Scot! …/smirks… Now that’s a funny fanny…*
… And I was able to catch up with Legs…
*It’s true, he does… /nods…*
*/final drag… I don’t think Tolkien partook of the waccy-baccy, Clicky… /plumes smoke… butt that don’t mean his characters didn’t… /stubs butt…*
*Oh that’s enough for tonight, Clicky… /pats snout… Kindly go get us a Song…*
Anyhoo, Dear Reader, I’m off now for a spot of remote viewing with Cade. Have a great we kenned and… Have a Song ❤
Adventures in Remote Viewing: Syncing Beasts
*No comments made yet on Cade’s missive, Clicky? …/flicks lighter…*
*Oh well… /lights up… we’d better get on with this shambles then… /drags…*
*/streams smoke… Leg-ion is a bit of a train a-fiction-ado, Clicky… /smirks…*
This week, Dear Reader, Cade and I remote viewed M. Night Shyamalan’s trilogy of movies, ‘Unbreakable’ from 2000, ‘Split’ from 2017 and ‘Glass’ which was released earlier this year…
I’d seen ‘Unbreakable’ back in the early Naughties on DVD. I thought it an entertaining enough flick, but nothing more. I admit I rolled my eyes back in January when I heard that a sequel was to be released, called ‘Glass’…
*Yeah, unbreakable glass, Clicky… /smokes…*
… But my ears pricked up earlier this week when I heard work colleagues discussing the performance of James McAvoy in a movie called ‘Split’…
… And I learned that not only is it set between ‘Unbreakable’ and ‘Glass’, but that it also succeeded as a “stand-alone movie”. That reminded me of a favourite book…
*No fucking way! …/flicks ash… That’s like a sync on steroids, Clicky…*
… Not the story told in the film itself, so much as the movie’s format and placement within the trilogy. Now, Dear Reader, I don’t know M. Night Shyamalan, but I do know the author H.K. Hillman…
… His first book, ‘Jessica’s Trap’, is about the construction of something unbreakable, and works as a complete, stand-alone story…
… Whereas his third book, ‘Norman’s House’, set 372 years later, satisfyingly completes the tale. Glass is integral to it…
*/deep drag… Better get a Song ready to end on, Clicky… /stubs butt…*
… So, all in all, Dear Reader, I can thoroughly recommend the trilogies from M. Night Shyamalan and H.K. Hillman…
*Huh? …/scratches head… The Scottish play, Clicky? I suppose. James McAvoy comes from Scotland and Leggy lives there…*
… Have a Song…
*Ah, gotcha…*
Missive From ‘Merica: Rocking Shamballs
Dear Reader, I thought I’d introduce the Okie Devil’s latest missive with a selfie of me and MEROVEE Frank in the Red universe…
*It appeared the day we remote viewed the movie, Clicky? …/lights up… Blimey… /drags…*
… Poor Frank is having terrible trouble with pollen and we hope he feels better soon…
*/plumes smoke… Actually, Blue universe Frank posted about the heatwave today… /smokes… *
… I have a separate shambles brewing on this week’s remote viewing of the ‘Unbreakable’ trilogy, and will post that this weekend…
*/tuts… Spoilers, Clicky…*
… But for Cade’s take on the movies, and more besides, keep reading, Dear Reader. And enjoy! ❤
*******
Sup douchebag. Or, douchebags…if there are more than one of you. Doing OK today? Wanna travel a potentially dark path? Me either too neither also.
Q: Why do Christians hate Satanists?
A: ? ? ?
The concept of Satan and/or Satanism springs from your own mythos, right? So I really don’t see what you get in such a twist over every time that/those particular part(s) of your own bullshit is mentioned. Seems like all you need to do in order to defeat Satan or Lucifer or the Devil or whoever, is edit them out. Redact their evil ass(es) from The Bible.
Problem solved
But wait, you can’t do that can you? Not only does God say not to change one word, but you can’t remove the opposition. The opposite is what allows the entirety of the structure(s) to stand in the first place. Man, you guys are staring down the barrel of Gnosticism aren’t you. I mean, you’re gonna have to face the fact that you’re eventually gonna have to blame God for everything at some point, and I get the feeling that this is almost the entirety of what makes up the basis for Gnosticism…
blame God
Or if you want to avoid those pesky Gnostic conundrums, you can just keep Big Red in The Bible, God is off the hook, problem solved? Is that how this works? I’m asking because I don’t know.
^Iron Maiden- The Prisoner^
You really don’t think I think you’re a douchebag, do you?
You aren't, right?
I wouldn’t sweat being called names…
X: Can I add something here?
Cade: Oh, hello. I’m sure you can add something with a modicum of effort.
X: How do you figure that you completely forgot that your favorite Iron Maiden song even existed?
Cade: Woah. I woulda expected a question like that to come from 0: or T:.
X: Anyone but me?
Cade: Pretty much, yeah.
0: Do you have an answer?
Cade: Welp, you’ve kinda muddied the waters as to what question needs to be answered.
B: No…you did that.
Cade: Muddied the waters?
B: Yes.
Cade: I realize that. But X: typically doesn’t start conversations via a rather detailed question.
Z: Are they typically more of an “observational” type of instigator?
Cade: Yeah. Fuzzy, but knowing.
F: What in the hell does that mean?
Cade: Welp, can I answer the original question first?
T: Will that give you time to think about how to respond?
Cade: Yes. And in answer to how I could possibly forget that my favorite Iron Maiden song even existed? Time.
X: Time, and…???
Cade: Time and rejection.
X: Rejection?
Cade: Yes. I started to “reject” heavy metal music when it started to get kinda…
Z: Foofoo?
Cade: Yes. Foofoo, or fufu or whatever. Frilly. Sparkly. Glam.
Z: You wanted to stay in the dark.
Cade: Yeah, something like that. I was just beginning to understand the dark, become comfortable with the dark.
X: And then?
Cade: Light.
0: Too much focus on the dark creates a glare.
Cade: Now that you put it like that, yeah. Like flicking on a light just as your eyes have adjusted to the dark.
Z: Or coming indoors on a bright and sunny day?
Cade: Yeah that too. Not grey as much as a weird mish-mashy rainbow of colors trying to find where they go/where they need to be.
X: That’s quite the description. Ever thought of it like that before?
Cade: Not really. But now that I think about it, it’s almost like shoving a rainbow flavored sno-cone into your eye.
T: How many time do you think you’ve heard that song The Prisoner?
Cade: A bunch. I used to listen to it over and over.
T: The song has a lot of colors.
Cade: Indeed it does. Up-tempo with a down-tempo intro, clarity, confusion, decision, anger, hope…
X: …and rejection.
Cade: Yes! That song does have some “rejection” overtones in it doesn’t it?
X: I hadn’t noticed.
Cade: lolz
X: 😉
F: Ahem.
Cade: I gotta scroll up, because I forgot what you asked.
F: Don’t bother.
Cade: K.
X: He’s gonna “bother” you know.
F: Why would he, when I specifically requested that he not?
0: Because he wants to know.
T: He thinks he does.
B: In the event the question is raised again.
Cade: Do I need to be here for this conversation?
F: Don’t do what I asked you not to do, and the problem is solved.
Cade: Not from my vantage point.
F: You scrolled.
Cade: Indeed I did, and in answer your original question, “knowing an answer” does not necessarily mean that you know how to provide that answer to a particular individual?
F: You were thinking of anecdotal evidence as you typed that.
Cade: Of course I was.
F: To relate the answer?
Cade: I would say, “to better relate the answer”, but that’s just me.
F: And why is that?
Cade: Because I can have the answer to a question…
T: But that doesn’t mean that you understand it.
Cade: Correct. Even less so with respect to answering an individual.
F: You know a lot of things you don’t understand?
Cade: Um, I think I need to be careful in answering that.
X: Booya.
Cade: Booya indeed.
F: What does that mean? “In your face F:?”
Cade: No. It is a correctness in the moment which buys more time for contemplation on if and how to answer your question.
F: Wait, you are saying you have answers to questions, and you don’t understand these answers, therefore you are hesitant to share these answers you have, simply because you yourself do not understand them?
Cade: Yes. Not always mind you.
F: What the hell does that mean?
Cade: Wow, my head is suddenly a train wreck.
Z: If only you were able to find a relatable anecdote, you wouldn’t be in this mess.
Cade: Tru dat.
F: You probably just have an inner desire to talk. Therefore your first instinct is block direct answers so as to inspire conversation.
Cade: Welp, that’s complete bullshit. I’m typically told that I have the finesse and delicacy of an asteroid slamming into the Yucatan Penninsula.
0: He ain’t lying.
F: How so?
A: Usually, he gives very direct answers in order to avoid conversation.
Z: Dry as the desert.
X: Heartless as stone.
T: All to avoid confusion.
Cade: Oy vey.
0: Oy vey indeed.
Cade: Avoid any perception of being deceitful.
X: Take the beating.
Cade: Forever and always, take the beating.
X: Booya.
F: Take the beating?
Cade: Get it over with. The beating is going to come irrespective of how the information is provided.
F: No justification? No rationalization?
Cade: Wait a moment here, anyone reading that might become confused as to who is rationalizing what.
Z: And why.
Cade: And why.
F: I’m confused.
Cade: Yes, I have many answers. Yes, I have many answers that I personally do not understand. Yes, I have grown hesitant in providing said information when asked for it.
F: Perhaps you are trying to avoid these beatings afterall?
Cade: Do you know what comes after?
F: Can you explain that? I don’t understand.
Cade: After someone asks me “do you know…”, and I answer directly and succinctly, do you know what comes after?
F: Another question?
Cade: Exactly. What I know, then after I tell what I know comes the question of how I know it.
F: And then?
Cade: Its a mess.
F: So, you know a bunch of stuff, but don’t know how you know it.
Cade: There are libraries you know.
F: Meaning…what?
Cade: We encountered eachother. It’s highly unlikely that I know something that others don’t know. So if you want a different source, there are plenty available.
F: Wait, is this about synchronicity?
Cade: Somewhat. Time. You want something in a timely manner, I give it to you, perhaps that saves you some time from having to go somewhere else to get it.
F: And if you don’t answer my question?
Cade: Then perhaps I was not the one that was supposed to give you the information you needed. I’m not a fucking ATM machine.
F: And what is that supposed to mean?
Cade: Go ask an ATM machine for a bottle of Dr. Pepper a bag of Cheetos and find out what I mean. Might ask the ATM machine what it thinks of the new Avengers movie whilst you are at it. Chat about the weather. Perhaps ask for investing advice or get them to comment on your wardrobe choices.
F: I would not do such a thing.
Cade: I don’t care if you would or wouldn’t.
F: Why don’t you care?
Cade: Because I don’t. “Fuzzy knowing”, I would think anyway, is not as much about whether or not to provide information requested, but how to provide the information. A “rock” is not just and only “a rock”.
F: It is if it’s a six mile wide asteroid slamming into the Yucatan Peninsula.
Cade: That isn’t a rock at all…it’s a missile.
0: If I may be so bold as to interject, this is getting a bit long, don’t you think?
Cade: It is indeed.
F: …
If you want answers, I got em’. Step right up and get your answers.
^A Flock Of Seagulls – Space Age Love Song (Official Music Video)^
Ya know, I gotta admit…
DROP EVERYTHING and read this RIGHT NOW! Seriously. Full-length, six-section Ebook with searingly urgent and immine… twitter.com/i/web/status/1…—
David Wilcock (@david_wilcock) June 25, 2019
…I didn’t have the slightest desire to drop anything upon reading the text of that tweet. In fact, the only thing that I had a sudden desire to do, was that I seemed to have a sudden desire to NOT go read your full-length six-section ebook with its searingly urgent and imminent message. And what’s with the Pepe The Frog MOAB? Didn’t Alex Jones get sued for using shit like that?
Hey you! Yeah, you…the one who is reading this right now. Do you even know what a MOAB is?
Moab
Moab, Utah
Moab (Disambiguation)
GBU-43/B MOAB
THERE we go! That last one is what we are looking for. It’s not a daisy-cutter. What’s that? You dunno what a daisy-cutter is? Welp, you can go look it up your own damn self if you wanna. Anyway, I get the feeling that whatever this searingly urgent message is, is prolly more along the lines of investment advice and/or some kind of corporate signaling. That’s just me being conspiratorial tho.
^The XX Intro HQ^
It’s not that I don’t want to grow, it just that I’m not always real keen on growing backwards. Har har. Get it? I don’t want to GrOw…backwards?
I funny
^Calexico – Guero Canelo^
Are you accepting, of being unaccepting?
Just pondering how someone gets their feet entrenched in concrete.
Like, did you have to agree to that?
Also, aren’t feet multi-purpose?
^Thievery Corporation ft. Gigi Rezende – Pela Janela [The Cosmic Game]^
Movies are supposed to be entertaining. Movies are supposed to be titular. Exciting. Interesting.
Entertainment. Movies are something you are supposed to want more and more of. With respect to those concepts…
Q: Does the blending of “the hideous” within a wrapper of “entertainment” muddy meaning(s)?
A: ???
More than that, would you know if movies had switched in their usage/utilization between a medium of entertainment, and one of entrainment? Not indoctrination, as much as entrainment. An intentional mixing/blending of concepts in order to manifest certain emotions that typically operate on different frequencies and/or carry different resonances?
Lemme give an example. Recently, the “antihero” archetype has become quite prevalent in movies, and especially superhero flicks. There’s nothing new about the antihero, but the depictions of them in movies is quite new. Ace Ventura is an antihero. The Man With No Name is an antihero. Frankenstein’s Monster is an antihero. Charles Kane is an antihero. The Shadow is an antihero.
Wait a minute here…there’s nothing new about antiheroes, except in superhero movies. Depictions of superheroes with flaws…maybe that’s what is new here. But that can’t be, because all superheroes have weaknesses. So why is it, that I would get the idea that someone is trying to use subtleties in the medium of movies to influence my outlook on certain things? Oh, that’s right, it’s because there are fucktons of people out there who are battling over the hearts and minds of the masses.
Maybe that's why I'm confused
^Sorten Muld – Bonden og Elverpigen (lyrics)^
What do you get, when you try and unconfuse someone who is not confused? Like say, I am a someone who already has the same ideas about perfection as you. If you think that I am someone who does not share your views on perfection, and you start hitting me with concepts specifically designed for those with opposing views, how would I react to those concepts? Nodding agreement? Or is confusion the more likely outcome. After all, wouldn’t you be preaching to the converted? That leaves me with no other conclusion than to wonder why in the fuck you are talking to me at all. Recruitment? Initiation?
Some kind of security check?
^Renegade Soundwave – Cocaine Sex (LP original)^
Here’s the dealio, I started writing this whatever yesterday morning, and yesterday afternoon, I watched a coupla movies that confused the living shit out of me. Quite sure they confused me because I didn’t understand the characters and their motivations. But the movies were Split and Glass.
Split (2016 American Film)
Glass (2019 Film)
What in the fuck is a stealth sequel?
The Wiki page for Split says that Split is “Hollywood’s first stealth sequel”. Anyway, I was kinda confused by the motivations of the character in Split. But then again, I had a tough time trying to decide if Split was a metaphor for government(s), more than it was a story about some nutcase living in a bomb shelter/prepper bunker.
The reason I thought the movie might be metaphorical, is because killing is the only answer. And not just and only killing, but theft, thievery and overbearing/obtrusive enslavement. Murder is also theft, slavery is supposedly illegal as is involuntary servitude. I’m kinda avoiding the topic of kidnapping because I’m trying to understand any points that Shyamalan might be trying to make in the subtext. Kinda sad really, because I sometimes feel that I can’t watch and enjoy a movie without nitpicking the fuck out of the story for “hidden meanings”.
Le sigh
It gets worse tho, because I then watched Glass. Oy vey, it only got muddier from there.
^public enemy – lost at birth – Apocalypse 91…The Enemy Str^
Glass seems to focus on the concept of ‘Due Process’.
Due Process
‘Due Process’ is top down. That means in order for the concept to be valid, it must be respected and honored from top to bottom, at all times.
This is the Achilles’ heel of every superhero, and the eventual destruction of every supervillan…when and if to respect someone else’s rights. I guess this is why the concept is ever-present in comic books. You’ve got people who are sick and tired of waiting for the slow wheels of justice to turn, and they take matters into their own hands. We’re talking about folks here who likely trust these systems of government implicitly, and when these governments and their systems don’t deliver? Anger and rage are swift amongst the converted.
These governments get their due and proper from us after all, on time and without fail, otherwise these governments and their arms of retribution are swift and firm with us. It’s almost as if these government are indifferent to our taxpayer-on-taxpayer crimes. Wait, I meant to say citizen-on-citizen crime(s). But yeah, this third party is indifferent as to what has transpired, and even if anything has transpired. After all, they are late to the party. But at the start of the movie Glass, the “heroes” are being accused of denying criminals their right to ‘Due Process’. In other words, the government wants their piece of the action. Ironic that this character who accuses the heroes of denying rights to ‘Due Process’, themselves denied the heroes their rights to ‘Due Process’.
I’m not going to spoil the movie further, but I’ll just say that both movies are some really great stories with fucktons of flaws. I almost get the feeling that these flaws are intentional, only because I know that Shyamalan is a clever motherfucker and a great storyteller. But let me add one last thing here real quick…
Good Samaritan Law
Yes, whether you know it or not, there are indeed laws that dictate behavior. Laws that eradicate choice completely, and lead to a ridiculously twisted web of “what I would have done in that situation” types of debates.
/me rolls eyes
^Madeleine Peyroux – J’ai Deux Amours^
So…there is a law…it states that you must stop and render aid if you see a car crash.
So…there is a law…it states that you cannot carry a pocket knife on your person.
So…there is a car crash in front of you. You stop because you are legally obligated to do so.
So…a person in one of the cars is trapped because the seat belt is jammed from the impact.
So…the car is on fire.
So…you have no way to cut this seatbelt because knives are illegal to carry.
So…you are required to be a superhero, but your hands are tied.
So…this law required you to stop and watch/witness this person burn to death as you stand helpless.
Yep, it’s a mess.
Good luck!
^Renegade Soundwave – Thunder^
Don’t ask me how in the fuck this started off with contemplating the concept of defects in your own religion’s mythos, and wound up contemplating comic books and movies. Just kinda…happened that way.
^Los Twangers – Vista Cruiser 69^
Is it possible to plan chaos? I bet a healthy dose of order would help.
Sorry, just really lost in this concept of onscreen retribution and/or vengeance. But then again, I guess onscreen forgiveness would be boring as fuck. A superhero wandering around absolving criminals of their crimes? What a snoozefest. The hero could just as well stay home, kick their feet up, have a beer, eat some Doritos and watch television. That would be a good show model for product placement tho.
“You're watching...The Hero That Wasn't!, brought to you buy...”
^Melody Gardot – Iemanja^
cYa | cFa
^Love And Rockets – “No New Tale To Tell”^
*******
Clicky and I will be back tomorrow with our take on this week’s remote viewing, Dear Reader. Until then, have a Song… 😉
Missive From ‘Merica: Defective Detective
*/lights up… /drags… /streams smoke…*
Had a little bit of a hiccup with Cade’s latest missive, below, Dear Reader. Apols! Hopefully you won’t find your enjoyment diminished ❤
*******
I have come to the conclusion that my normalcy is defective.
Defective normalcy...I have it
I have the same normalcy as anyone else, it’s just that my particular batch was maybe brewed after the factory had been in business for a while. Not quite the same as the first few batches.
An acquired taste?
/shrug
^Junkie XL — Crusher.. High quality.^
Everywhere you turn, there is someone waiting to tell you what a fuckup you are. How wrong you are. How inadequate you are. What you are doing wrong. Usually because you are doing a similar or same something in a different way. Kinda makes you wonder how you’ll eventually react when someone tells you that you aren’t a fuckup. Like, would there possibly be some groups or people out there who might seek to take advantage of such channeling? You could win a lot of converts by being accepting of the mutants and defects. Assuming there are indeed people out there looking for some place to go that is. Could make you look quite powerful when you kick a mutant in the teeth.
^Marie Davidson – ‘Work It (Soulwax Remix)’^
DATELINE: 20,000,000 BC
LOCATION: Antarctica
LOCAL CLIMATE: Temperate
CONTINENTAL ICE COVERAGE: 0%
So…if 70% of the planet’s current freshwater is stored on the continent of Antarctica, and if all this shit melts the oceans are going to rise almost 400 feet and drown us all…
Q: What were the continents up to 20 million years ago?
A: ???
Yeah, I kinda get it, ocean levels were higher and a lot of shit that is above water now was below water then. As recently as 500,000 years ago, the place where my stinky ass currently sits was completely under water as part of the Gulf of Mexico/Atlantic Ocean. But there are some things that aren’t adding up. Maybe I should think on this further and reach some conclusions before writing about it. Otherwise, I’ll wind up sounding like a complete moron. Can’t have that. Gotta learn to tow the line(s).
^BORIS “Statement” (Official)^
I keep seeing these huge blocks/chunks of missing time. Especially in the geological timelines. Is that normal?
^Slowdive – Shine (Video)^
Prolly normal that science has shifts between the research only mode(s) and teaching only mode(s). And it would further make sense that some of us are just…out of sync with those cycles.
😐
^Ruby Cube – Apollo (clip officiel)^
Speaking of numbers failing…
https://twitter.com/ShelCalopa/status/1143029774920503297
*WTF, Clicky!*
*The tweet’s been deleted? …/squints… Bugger! Dear Reader’s not gonna know what Cade’s referring to. Shit, shit, shit… /pinches lip… Oh we’ll fink of sumfin. It could turn out ironic…*
It occurs to me that there’s no such thing as majority or minority when it’s just me and you. If I am “black”, and you are “white”, how do you justify these ancillary labels in a singular context? Do you really see yourself as an individual carrying the entire power of “the white race” when you encounter a person from another “race”? Because if that is so, you are likely also lugging around all the power of the human race, which I guess would include “minority peeps”. To go ridiculously further, this also would mean that you are also in possession of the powers of your gender, and all the powers of the opposite gender. I guess you’ve also got all the powers of the planet, which means you’re in possession of all the powers of the Universe…
Holy shit...you are GOD!
Lemme bow down to you. Or maybe it’s as simple as, you’ve got what you’ve got, I’ve got what I’ve got, and what we choose to do with that is kinda up to us in the moment and moments of our individual lives. Let’s change directions.
How do you treat other life and on what do you base how you treat it? Plants? Animals? Insects? Bacteria? To get more specific how do you treat dogs? Cats? Fish? Skinks? Skunks? Roaches? Butterflies? What about less-organic stuff? Cars? Computers? Dishes? Rocks? Desks? Chairs? Punching bags? Siri? Alexa? Water? Air? Sand? Does it matter whether a certain something is “yours” as to how you treat it? Like say, you baby the hell out of greenery in your own yard, but all you do is complain about the greenery in other people’s yards? You may even utilize municipal types of powers to enforce your will on others in order to make their yard look more pleasing to your own personal sensibilities?
Phantoms...we are full of them
^Renegade Soundwave – The Phantom (It’s In There) A – 1989^
I woke up to that tweet staring me in the face, and I admit that it confused the fuck outta me…
*Clicky! There are only three people in world who might possibly understand that… /rolls eyes…*
…It made sense in that, wait, is this lady someone who is experiencing some perceived inequality because of her age, gender and race? But that’s the obvious. “Society” doesn’t appear to owe me a damn thing, nor do I expect anything from it.
That said, I talk almost incessantly with a white, middle-aged woman, and she’s got all kinds of interesting and meaningful things to say. So perhaps it’s not whether or not you have anything meaningful to say, as much as it’s a matter of whether or not you say it. Most writers are quite timid. They hesitate as to what to say, and how to say it. As a result, we tend to latch on to popular concepts, say what everyone else is saying, and what you say gets lost in the noise.
No big surprise there
Maybe it’s a matter of you not having anyone to say your piece to? Invent them. Might wanna keep in mind they are fictional tho. Don’t want your creation to become a bogeyman. Sounds like you’ve already got enough of those in your life.
^White Zombie – I’m Your Boogie Man (Sex On The Rocks Mix)^
Speaking of not being heard…I’ve not heard from a certain someone in a while.
Hope you are OK
❤
^The Chemical Brothers – Sometimes I Feel So Deserted (Official Music Video)^
I am totally, completely, and permanently clad in nakedness.
^Broods – Freak Of Nature (Official Audio) ft. Tove Lo^
Bad behavior inspires...
Icelanders tire of disrespectful Instagram influencers
…more bad behavior. Yep, tourists behaving badly gives officials the ammo they need to behave badly themselves. You can imagine where things will go from there. On the surface, the story is suggesting that Instagram is to blame via the “influencers” that utilize social media to make massive monies. They spend money to travel to Iceland, to make stories, so they can take these stories take back home and make money off selling them via their social media accounts.
An investment in a future return
Now, I wonder where on EARTH people would get the crazy idea that controversial, radical, shocking, jarring and potentially offensive media would be a cash cow?
Certainly not just and only the CKY idiots
^CKY iceland_mission^
“The Cutting Edge” cares not about what it has already cut. It cares only about what it is cutting.
^CKY – “96 Quite Bitter Beings” (original music video before MTV edit)^
If you lived in a really great and cool looking place, but couldn’t do anything because everything is barred and/or banned, would that be considered…hell?
^SHPONGLE – Strange Planet (2017)^
If you sought to control anything and everything, how would you know when you had achieved your goal? Been seeing a lot of “globalist” types of stuff rearing its head recently, and I gotta wonder how in the hell you would know that you and yours were “in control”. We live in a pretty dynamic place that appears to be cyclical, not to mention that most dictatorial regimes throughout history are paranoid as FUCK.
Wait…maybe that’s it. When “the powers” get paranoid, they do so because think they are in complete control. Makes sense. Power is scary.
^SOULWAX – NY Excuse^
You think it possible to latch on to a static point in space within the confines of a planet’s atmosphere? Like detach yourself completely from the “earth dynamic(s)” by latching onto a certain something that most will likely say doesn’t exist/is an impossibility? Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible either. There’s nothing within close proximity to our planet that represents a static point in space which is opposed to other points in space. Of course, there are those Alpha Loops and Omega Gates. They kinda operate that way. Not saying they actually exist, but they might.
^Why Rockets Fail – Earth’s Rotation Leads to Explosion of The First Soyuz Rocket^
Q: Would you experiment on your own body?
A: !!!?!!!¿!!!
I mean, assuming you had a good reason to do so, and the time to do it in. Everything in your life lined up almost perfectly, the way seemed clear, is your own body the logical place to start? Or you think it best to outsource? Group study? Clinical trials?
Never can be too safe
^BOMBAY DUB ORCHESTRA – Monsoon malabar^
INCOMING SONG LYRICS!!!
(song/video follows)
“The Number Of The Beast”
Iron Maiden
“Woe to you, oh Earth and Sea, for the Devil sends the beast with wrath
Because he knows the time is short…
Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast
For it is a human number
Its number is Six hundred and sixty six”
I left alone, my mind was blank.
I needed time to think, to get the memories from my mind
What did I see?
Can I believe that what I saw that night was real and not just fantasy
Just what I saw in my old dreams
Were they reflections of my warped mind staring back at me?
‘Cause in my dreams it’s always there
The evil face that twists my mind and brings me to despair
The night was black, was no use holding back
‘Cause I just had to see, was someone watching me
In the mist dark figures move and twist
Was all this for real, or just some kind of hell?
666 the number of the beast
Hell and fire was spawned to be released
Torches blazed and sacred chants were praised
As they start to cry hands held to the sky
In the night the fires are burning bright
The ritual has begun, Satan’s work is done
666 the number of the beast
Sacrifice is going on tonight
This can’t go on, I must inform the law
Can this still be real or just some crazy dream?
But I feel drawn towards the chanting hordes
They seem to mesmerise…
Can’t avoid their eyes
666 the number of the beast
666 the one for you and me
I’m coming back
I will return
And I’ll possess your body and I’ll make you burn
I have the fire
I have the force
I have the power to make my evil take its course
Shocking
I am completely and totally shocked to my foundations…circa 1982.
^Iron Maiden – The Number Of The Beast (Official Video)^
Q: If I am sick, ill and/or in some kind of jeopardy, does that mean The Universe is sick, ill and/or in some kind of jeopardy as well?
A: ¿
Better be sure on the answer to that one…eh?
^jefferson airplane • go ask alice cover^
The topic of “kinetic sculptures” has come up recently. I’m wondering if the depictions in the video below qualify. Like, in the “virtual” sense. I guess it just got me to thinking about the generation of wind(s) in the “Archonic Realms”…if you will.
What blows what?
Who blows who?
^Bonobo : Cirrus [Official Video]^
cYa | cFa
^Digitalism – Digitalism In Cairo^
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Have a Song, Dear Reader…
*Phew! That was a close shave, Clicky…*
Adventures In Remote Viewing: Shimmer Shamble
*Why does he keep saying ‘annihilation’, Clicky? Me and Cade remote viewed that last night… /lights up… And it has a lighthouse in it…*
*Weird and interesting movie… /deep drag… No wonder MEROVEE Frank in the Red universe references it often…*
*/holds breath…. And I’m sure that lucifurious tweet had the movie’s shimmer colours, Clicky…*
*Thought so…*
*Ding Dong, Clicky! …/pats snout… It’s chapter 8 of the Fallen Goddess mythos…*
8. Observing that Sophia cannot manage the prodigious explosion of biological diversity she produces, the divinities of the galactic center send the Aeon Christos to configure and coordinate the instinctual life-plans of her progeny. This is the Christic intercession;
*Have a Song, Clicky…*
The Longest Day
*Oh hello, Clicky. You’re back from MJ’s? …/lights up… She’s got naked selfies in there?! And what were you doing when she was doing that?*
*She certainly said some nice things about us… /drags…*
*/streams smoke… No doubt. So do I, Clicky. In fact I’ve been in a bad mood all day. I’m glad you’re back, you can help me with this post… /smokes…*
Dear Reader, today is the longest day of 2019. At 4am in Scotland, it started like this…
*Very nice! …/pats snout…*
… And at 4am in Philadelphia, it started like this…
… But here at the LoL, it started like this…
*That’s right, Clicky, asleep. Having a bad dream about Satin… /shrugs… or Satan. It was one or the other…*
*Someone lost their temper and their job… /flicks ash… Wait! The wench is called ‘Barker’?*
… All and all, it’s been a very long day, Dear Reader…
*Enough… /stubs butt… Let’s go see if Cade’s up for some fun remote viewing…*
… Have a Song…
