Thursday, 3 March 2016

From out of the Dirac sea the fire extinguishers glow II.

Continued from


Sometimes the darkened room within which to slumber will notice that your time disappears. The Copenhagen convention gets disrupted by Marxist thugs crashing the Munchen beer hall. Polite intercourse goes out the window and blood flows again. Unconnected historical events meet, merge and separate as news. Suddenly one finds oneself outside of the god containers and unlimited in capability.  A long while ago a chum of mine related on his understanding of why the Pripyet suddenly got all nucleotided, as well as welsh sheep.

It was during a winter BBQ and our conversation was really about the Kursk shoot down. Only the two of us at the charcoal, everyone else inside. As well as describing the ideal location and schematic of nuclear power plants we were discussing the style of the then western nuke pp management. In the midst of all the rain, wind and hot coals he remarked that the management of the plant got lax and chained up some valves in the coolant circulation exits to save on the hassle of scheduled inspection because nothing ever happened there. Then an unexpected major transient reared its ugly head, within designed contingencies mind you, if everything was tikkity-boo coolant circuit wise. Hence kablaamo. I popped another brew and let it ride as we went on to other nuke matters mainly surrounding the Kursk. Later though I was musing about the scalar feedback from the woodpeckers, NATO attack, that had caused the plants to need massive cooling pronto-tonto in the first place.

I then tried to put all that into context. The more the answers arrived at the more hydra branchings questioning ahead.

Like who was it that instructed Maxwell’s equations should be pokkled?

Anyway there we are in the mid 80s and the TV is full of BBC newsrepoeters who know that Jimmy Savile was not decomposing Shelley or Brooke with children. Indeed everyone in London medialand knows that children are being sacrificed to the appetites of the screaming front man’s chums. If you can go to the end of a Texel beach road and find yourself in a banker’s torture garden and know, if Hattersley’s then mistress can know, if bands from out of the country on tour can find out what is what and that everyone knows that the creepzoid is protected by the shield of royal “charity”, then one can expect that ordinary persons will be kept in the dark on everything in this experimental asyslum.

So back to the MiHiBBCPRAVDAbots. There they are in the mid 80s ignoring Savile and his child embalmer crew and what do we find our screens full of? MiHi operatives in the IRA blowing stuff up and killing ordinary persons. MiHi operatives causing massive industrial strife in UKplc. Out in the real world beyond blanket D notices we are given mega detailed investigations on how beastly everyone is in South Africa and the USSR. What is wrong with SA and USSR that it needs such minute forensics to consume so much air time on our expensive TeeVees, featuring coddled investigative reporters financed by our license polltax/tolltax and parked in gin soaked hotels?

Well they were both unnatural shitholes where the majority were pfukked over by their elitist degenerated governments and kept in ignorance. So are we talking about P W  deSeville and Piotr Savilivitch then stalking their lands? Are we talking about the absurdity of watching your expensive TeeVee and having the words spoken by the talking head silenced by blanket censorship? Are we talking wastelands where no one has anything but government funded state dependency, are we talking public purse welfare scroungers like RBS and Lloyds banks? Are we basically talking UK but overseas?


You see it is OK for UKplc to be a backward retarded graveyard for burned out humanity constantly importing death merchants and grave fillers to replenish the ranks of consumed society. It is all relative. Inside the ignorance cage you can die relatively undisturbed by the unrecognised engines of war you helped fashion, for release of totenchaos outside the crown boundaries, in your depression. Just don’t expect to have any say in anything. Keep your fascionose clean and know your knowplace. There are no British in the recycling war plant and money publishing house known as UKplc, just expendable shifts of prole fuel.

UK trashheap is fantastic, global dumpster is ideal. DO NOT dare to have ordinary people anywhere question that. DO NOT have aspirations. DO NOT be anything other than serfserving. Go quietly into the night and die.

That is the world to come.

Everyone, including the magicians, is to sink back into the always ancient simple Dirac sea crossed by restricting Noah.