How far can you run a mile?

Last weekend some mates came round for a mini swilling session, well actually my daughter contrived for her bestest mate to be brought round by her parents so we fed the lot. No difficulty there I just arranged for a fine selection of ciders to be at hand for my buddy the secretive squirrel. Before feeding our faces, in the first part of the evening we all got round to a bit of a chin wag.

I cannot remember how we got there but this is the conversation I’ve been mulling since.

The first part were words said, the second part were things I didn’t lay on them since they’d already shown signs of a 2iC moment coming up pronto on the blind side.

That second part is for you to suffer!

As we headed into the red apple cider, after a couple of pear ciders, I remember my swilling mate remarked to us that because of the full body scanners R&D process something weird had been discovered about the percentage of human beings playing without half a full deck. Or even less.

Well that got our attention. He said that although not unknown, and he mentioned a particular genetic condition where this is manifest, the really surprising number of people who have a small brain within their…aaahhhh I remember how it all started now.

He’d asked us about what are the two defining characteristics that separate us from the great apes. This was after we’d discussed how painful it was to land on your coccyx. I had wondered if the Canadian researcher who is trying to switch on chicken tails to regenerate dinosaurs, the Jurassic Park method being passe etc, would be successful. I mean do you want a genetically tampered with chicken, with a tail, that might turn into a velociraptor?

Anyway. Opposable thumbs we got. I was waiting for an ability to hold our breaths under water. No; instead we got heavy muscling on the jaws which meant that great apes have more head volume handed over to muscle and lucky old us got the brain occupying that corresponding space.

Now I‘m reading something at the moment with which I could compare his statement and decided to mull rather than say anything further. Anyway he was on a roll. So I piped up with the underwater bit which suggested, as far as I could make out, that instead of coming down out of the trees at some point in the distant past we must have come out of the “water”.

Now we’d got to that point because I’m sure the putative chicken footering confirmed some of the suspected facets of the overall wierdness that is the scientific smoke screen, to our prejudices and educated guesses.

Anyway a small percentage of us are operating with a smaller brainiac mass and the scanner tech guys realised that there were a lot more of us than thought running around quite happily with a tiny grey mass. The really freeky thing though was that when these guys were checked out they were not what you’d expect. They reflected the general population in terms of professions and qualifications. Lawyers, academics, carpenters, footballers etc. Just like the rest of humanity.

Again no probs there. I quipped that it wasn’t unknown for trauma to cause massive brain mass loss and yet the person to continue to function. I can think of one Vietnam vet who has a head full of epoxy and continued to get on with life as a correspondent.

I know of maths grads who, naturally, have such a small mass of frontal lobes that they are classified as subnormal.

Well as we headed into the Magners again he remarked that after the tech guys had mentioned this fact there had been other research types who’d gone further and wired up the persons of interest. Instead of one small part of the whole brain lighting up as in normal persons when tasks are completed like listening or speech, in the cases of the guys with the small brain mass the brain lit up completely.

Well yours truly thought that it might be time to broach a little mentioned topic of conversation which was brought to mind by the presence of another guest there that night. The last time I’d seen her and her husband together Robert had talked about the strange out of body experience he’d had a long, long time ago.

It was also spurred by some of the things I’ve parked out here with you guys in the past.

I related the stories that had been circulating about OOB experiences. Not just that but also about people who had acquired talents, after heart transplant surgery, that they had never displayed before the procedure.

I speculated that there would seem to be a little understood fundamental connection between the human heart and human brain. I stopped there. I hadn’t seen the Arthur Scargill 2iC moment sweeping up yet though!

Now that of course chimed with the ladies present, as I knew it would. Many we knew this time last year are gone now.

I proferred my squirrel friend another Magners pear cider. I cracked open a Bow.

I know, I know. Those of you reading here regularly can see the warning signs. I was there and didn’t.

My squirrel buddy sat back and I hit the gas. I took it a little stage further, I thought, and stated that perhaps there is an inseparable link between the human heart and the human mind, that there is no need to explore the physical human brain to find the human mind.

I was thinking of the Tavistokian goons and the Nazi and Commie butchers who poked around in the brain cavities of the poor slobs that they imprisoned in their barbaric clutches. All the wierdos that infested Canadian research in this area.

They had no idea why I suddenly said “It is always the Canadians isn’t it?”

Followed by “What about if the human mind does not reside in the brain? What about if the brain is an antenna of sorts? An antenna connected to an equivalent of Jung’s…..”

That’s when I heard it. There was a massive phekking great big 2iC moment screeching and heaving into view.

“Shall we sit at the table? I think dinner is ready” Just got me out of it in time.

The unspoken second part of the conversation I’ll have with you lot.

TBC

Gigits...

..you fucker.

Where the fuck are the cartoons ripping the shit out of the ripened fields of fools?

Where are you?

As the candle gutters

Engines of Death.

How much mass of us can wax aware of our mass?

Do we wain’ like great cart, slow and …..dead.

How big a tobacco pouch can your imaginery pan-drug running, Jew selling- son sell you from the iGREEN death camps?

You know the tobacco pouches , don’t you?

KAPO.

Made from Djinn afflicted scrotums and strung to a high pitched screech by their foreskins, on a cat gut strung screemolin brick lined kiln’d gassed and environmentalist feindly killer approved supplier of Nimrud malarky?

Non tobacco Tobago slave runners who fuckin’ hate the Egyptian Sluice Kanal.

Kalliff’d; you have been subject to ponazi pestilience. Have you? Not much.

Your bones are picked and your dreams of bliss have ablated. If you hoped to die in the quite of your own, forget it.

In the silenced night all was robed in ceremonial plunder. A plumb line to murder.

The violence remained

The organic chalice unfilled.

Then fulfilled quanta progeny.

The Rayleigh instability stasis static.

If you really understand, that blinded sincereseer, then.

Wander in the world as if you had halted and hatered.

Steed.

Archon.

What is it you see’d?

The Afflicted.

They come to bind.

Untold nonlocal autocausal defend the common from?


We unstitch their time.


Nam Shub

Can U shit diamonds 2?

You and me we’d stick something valuable up our arses, not the phantascists. Oh no they are so caught up in the unreality of their fables they actually believe their own crap!!!

The chief fantacistphascist thinks he’s cast his spell.

Nah!!!

It is the same fecal fascist matter that was installed in Rome. Believe and genuflect. Do not argue scum!! No wonder Rome’s semitici princes wear skull caps and a Nazi is installed now!!!.

The Afflicted at work. Deconstructed.

H/T Akira

Have we been placed in a prison or secured in a safe or freed in a lifeboat?

Inevitably we’ve arrived at a question.

What question?

Well allow me a little fore play.

It should be obvious by now that it isn’t the hermit and hermetically memed so-called jew RCE phukkers, Camel shagging pikeys, road warrior Jesuits or any mixture of Aetheistic armoured psychopaths or delusional affliction aborted killers that is our problem at the helm.

It isn’t the circumscribed circumcised and soon to be excised, exorcised chosen fools or the RISC Sabbateans and the most evil men in the world, the witches at their brew ‘n’ stew, the bush meat traffickers and assorted charabanged slavers that we should be targetting our keenest attention on. Their pantechnikon of distractional flavourings and spreads is enough to exhasust Xeno. Infinite and yet RISC’d.

It is not the manned womanned thing that weighs it’s shadow in peripheral shallow gold. It isn’t the delight of our foolish whim. It isn’t the dealers of death from Babylon’s false Khazar or the London scrapped U235 merchants.

These slobs are weak. That is why they flock like so much violent poultry. They are beginners at the cock fight we are forced to face down in our terminal decline from grace.

They no longer exist to us.

Thethe have surrendered.

Though I admit the whole lot love fucking us over and killing, killing, killing, killing……… over and over and over and over and over….non-stop, 24/7 and they cannot wait to start again. They hate everyone that is not part of their stupid little Mandelbrot infinite up its own arse world

The fact that we know this means we still stand. We are surrounded by friend and foe who wish us toppled. Good and bad, alike.

The question is really a question of Realty.

Who keeps our sovereign soul?

For we have abandoned the watch on the garden.

That’s right fuckers, don’t be getting all comfortable by pointing and laughing at the other psycho muppets. We’ll wipe them out in a trice, that’s what makes them shit their undergarments.

Long, long ago we allowed the desert to evacuate on our desserted hearts, upon the stillness of equanimity. An Other has bread enmity and placed beautiful plants out of their place. A foreign intelligence dines here to this day. Trenches at a table that we should populate with modest sustenance instead of the over pouring and heaped spoils of the pursuit of avarice’s bawbles and bawbees. The gluttonous pyres' offerings. All the deliberated unalive.

Cannibal bawl.

It Always Eats at our open hearth. Schooled in occulted Satan’s semen name. No name.

A little while back I asked if we had been blinded.

I will ask again before continuing.

Are we blinded? Have we been occupied? Has the stulted taken us? Are we not us?

Are we blinded to our misshapen form?

What caused this paulsy? The leperous stink and fallen limbs. Discarded digits of a humanity that cannot sign.

I took the task of pointing out the RISC at work last week?

Ignore the RICO simple invective, the effervescent sparkling stench of numbskulled skilling degenerate sloth. The task at hand is unending with no obvious triumph. The battle and war, our existence, against the RISC is infinite. Ad infinite, as the NamShub they cast through wordings and mouthings every day through their magicians’ hearings and sayings.

In hopelessness and triumph are the paralleled conflictsses tres-solved.

Within us.

Not from one who profers truth’s poison pestle for us, use, usury.

And from us.

Sovereign.

Got that?

We are our problem.

Not them.

If you think otherwise you are RISC.

Now that that question has been asked I’ll pose another to help us break out of our RISC programming..

Who are we?

68 Years ago the 100th monkey stopped fighting around the Kurgan

Sacred places.

I loved the C4 sports programming of the mid 1980’s. The beautiful series, every year, presented by Dr Lyall Watson giving 15 weekly vignettes of the yearly 15 day Aki Basho would keep me all aglow.

So make of this what you will. It all fell into place by chance today.

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Now don’t get all shirty until you’ve gone off and digested some nonlocal smashing of causality.

What if the bad guys remember yesterday better than you can deal with today?

Cya.