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Living In-Sane?

The World Wears Down The Thinker

The World Wears Down The Thinker

In Sane-ity?

I talked to a woman who lets me into a secret. There is a spaceship on the dark side of the moon. Aliens within the vessel are awaiting orders to invade earth and enslave the human race in order to take our remaining gold supplies.  Apparently, this has happened before. The story is not new. Slaves? I wonder. Most of us are already enslaved.

Parents once told me their children were ‘indigo’ children’. Specially selected and of supreme intelligence. I confess to being confused they looked like normal white kids to me and bored out of their tree as they had been watching super-hero DVD’s for most of the afternoon. I researched the ‘indigo children’ scene. It is a dubious phenomena and does not stand close scrutiny. A wishful parents hope to make their child special. Like the father who makes his eight year old child race a dirt bike, crazy, dirty and dangerous, a child living the parents dream. In any event I doubt being an indigo child will advantage them very much in this hard, hard world. “Hi, I’m an indigo child.” “That’s nice, I’m a grown up who has to attempt to live in the real world.” “Yes, but my mummy told me I’m special.”  “Shut the f#$k up and stack those shelves you idiot.” Indigo here we go if you have any common sense.

In Birmingham I ask a woman about sodium-bicarbonate being taken daily.  She is selling a book describing the diet and food additives which changed the Ph of the blood. Those with alkali blood become free of disease. Sufferer’s of cancer, she implies, would be cured with alkali blood. It is a miracle!  The woman believed my simple questions were antagonistic and BANG! Did she become offensive/defensive. Truth to tell up to that point I was interested in what she was selling, after that point and to this day mention PH blood to me and I’ll tell you why its the baloney of a phoney. “Hi I’m selling you a cure for cancer.” “I know about it, unfortunately it didn’t work for my friend Maureen who some moron had told her she had an allergy to electricity.”

I played with Tarot cards, Kaballah, read a million words of occult doctrine, prayed to god, researched past life regression and everything in-between. Nothing unprovable stokes the coals thought in the boiler of my mind. I am beginning to suspect that if a subject is uncertain, unstable or ‘occult’ spiritual, it is, in truth, just spaceships on the dark side of the moon.

I wish the aliens would come and take the gold supplies. It would be nice to have indigo colored children running around the planet and cancer cured with bi-carbonate of soda. Holy Jesus it would be more interesting than a celebrity not wearing any knickers at a pseudo award night or the worship of overpaid actors.

I listened to woman who talked to angels. I listened to another and another and another. As I listened messages they received, I discovered the messages from specific angels did not seem to be consistent. Maybe they hear the warnings (always seem to be warnings) from differing angles. A man (I could name him – I have the recording of the ‘talk’) claimed he conversed with Angel Gabriel as he drove to work, the celestial messenger told him the world was in danger! I do not need an idiot to pass on that message to me. I conclude Green Peace must be a choir of angelic hosts. If I was driving and an angel sat next to me I wonder if the conversation would be, “Watch how you’re driving, Ian,” I’d look at the good looking messenger and say, “Shouldn’t you be helping little starving children in Africa?” “No! I’ve a message for you to pass onto man kind,” “Do it yourself you lazy sod, now F#$k off.”

Do the angels weep? I should think they so! The celestial messengers information is non to hot at the moment. Try this for a message… ‘Suffer starving child no one cares about you!’ Is it possible though the starving child is a pot of intellectual gold?  If you open your mind you may discover the answer to the question. The staving child does hold the secret, the truth, the fact, the certainty. What is it? To be hungry and in agony is tragic – To be well fed and happy is wondrous. We know this, all of us know this and yet you use the minerals, gas, oil and resources of the African – South American continents and let the natives starve…

Monarch saviour of the masses holding court to sycophants, why do you let your servants down? You worshipped bastards of abject greed. Although I cannot blame you for your selfish attitude, you parasites of evil. You are as brainwashed as the woman who believes the aliens await. You know not hunger, live in warm castles, slaves fill your already overflowing coffers, idiots sacrifice their lives to protect you and fools worship you. Only the insane would walk away from a life like yours.  If only I had your power for a day, if only I had your power for a day…

So! "Fight Me" I care not.

So! “Fight Me” I care not.

Once (in England) the punishment for treason was death. The punishment for blasphemy was death. The punishment for cowardice was death. Take me back in time and hang me. I cause offence so track me down for my personal truths and fight me. See if I care. I am Traitor – Blasphemer – Coward – My words are of no consequence, all I can do is write my thoughts. And if not one agrees it matters not for my conscience speaks to me in kindness.

There are a few I hurt and they wish to reciprocate, do I care? There are a few who have desired and still desire to cause me problems because of essays like this, and if I were such an idiot why would my words concern them? Do I effect them? No! I control them because I anger them, chip away at their resolve to control other people. There are no secret answers, occult rituals or methods of magic which provide the answers to life. The truth is here now, today. Life is life, you live and you die. And the rich hold on to their wealth because it is the proof of their superiority, F#$k them. I despise their arrogance. The world starves and the rich feed at the trough of caviar swill.

What you think you are rich? If you have any form of credit or mortgage you are not rich, if you worry about your future in any way you are not rich, if you own just one property you are not rich. Get the message. The wealthy allow you to THINK you are rich, getting somewhere, progressing, have a future. There are those who have if they but knew it, capitulated, the hope of the impossible, the hope of controlling those who control them. Pray a million tears, the child still starves. Voodoo a capitalist, he still steals you land and oil. Occult your ritual you are still poor.

I’m living in an in sane world – Get it? In Sane world – Get it? Insane world. The population believe themselves in sanity and the way they live and the way they kill proves them to be crazy. Do not agree? That is fine. I’m not concerned because my reason overwhelms insane supposition. Each time I see a television news cast and watch the fighter jet or a drone kill or erase one of my countries enemies, I smile and think, “I did that” and so should you. When you see the soldier kill the terrorist smile and think, “I did that” even if you hate war and killing. When you see the nonsense acts of your government and establishment smile and think, “I did that” – Because sure as air is needed for life your taxes contributed to the killing. And no praying or listening to angels will stop the “I did that.”

Lets hope the aliens waiting in the cold silence of the dark side of the moon will rescue me soon…

Death – Rambling Of A Madman – I Am Insane Today

Rope Knife 'Lucky Stone' ? Which One? Which Way?

Rope Knife ‘Lucky Stone’ ? Which One? Which Way?

The ageing process’s effects upon one’s body is insipid, inevitable and unwelcome.  In truth we have to blame the design team for poor workmanship and product development. Lets face it even a tin of beans has instructions on the label. I possess the most valuable and complex electro/chemical body of life in the known universe and sod me there are no operating instructions apart from instinct and intuition. Not only have I wrecked the mechanical structure, the central processing unit is overloaded and through numerous confusions it blows fuses with regular occurrence. I am now one of the unfortunate few my fuse box is so damaged it is beyond repair.

I’m sliding into the ‘Happy Valley’ all is not as it seems. So let me cut through the web of years which traps many fools to the glory days of their distorted past and enter into a free fall toward the inevitable, named ‘death’ and have a few random thoughts about the designer (God) and the so called ‘Spirituals’ who profess to understand the Creator. There’s no heaven awaiting and the hell I’d prefer an imagination too.

God, the greatest writer, author, script-writer of all. Designer of the Universe is a confusing entity. He’ll bless random men or women and at the same time in the story – Shadow a child with thousand’s pestering flies and award the ballon stomach medal of starvation for the agonies – He’ll cancer a saint and long life a tyrant.  The creator is a victim of writers block for all of his creative ideas he’s stuck. The master cannot finish the story with a different ending. Unlike a poorly written film there cannot be a sequel to tidy up unanswered questions. His stories place all of his characters in the quicksand of death.

Surely all that really exists is every memory retained within my mind? When life is over, the fat lady will sing and the incinerator’s flame will disappear my body and within my living mind I know I am content in the no thing of tomorrow. And, pleased my body will release my mind from the burden of thought. Burn me up Scotty the enterprise is over.

I no longer care that the certainty of a final sleep looms in the calendar of existence. I realise I don’t give a fig for the sods who have hurt, despised, tricked, deceived or hated me.  In fact I realise it is not the experience of the many difficulties which mattered, it is the fact I’d allowed myself to become part of the non senses’s.

Best of all – NO the brilliance of my death is the probability more than a few will comment, “Good riddance I’m glad that bastards dead, I hope it was painful.” And I guide them to the certainty I’m pleased that in my absence I’ll still having an effect. And don’t deny it enemies, I know a few of you and maybe I spend a few hours researching your lives and lies before its over. I’m pleased to have agitated your petty, arrogant know all minds.

Old World

Old World

I realise I was never as sharp as I believed myself to be. I’m certain my mind is as blunt as a chewed fruit pastel and about as much use. I’ve made and lost a fortune and now I don’t give a toss people buy my work because of the lessons learned.

Old friends you’ll impress no one with generosity, kindness and charity. These are the attributes the rich take advantage of. I’m certain the moron believes giving to others will make them rich. They’re as IQ deficient as the small minded who pick up pennies thinking luck is the seed of wellbeing. Generosity never can and never will make a pauper wealthy, generosity is the privilege of the rich . What I should have known is worrying about others and buying friends is the toil of an idiot.

Spirituality is like planting an acorn in a desert in the hope there will be an oak tree on the spot the following day. It is a vacuum which sucks the  words –  Common Sense – Fact and Certainties –  From ones imaginations and reasoning, for without common sense, fact and certainty, the venom of the spiritual viper will paralyse its victim before eating it alive.  It is vacuous and will leave nothing more than questions and nothing.

To be a spiritual being all that is required is to swim in an ocean called truth and as many explorers of this evasive attribute discover the truth drowns many a pilgrim. And those who can work, interact, buy, sell, give, take enjoy, lie a little, drink to much, smoke when life is at an end, not be slave to money, and love this world and hate the bastards who destroy it, truly understand life. For there is no mystery, there is one journey, one life, happiness or pain. I’ll take happiness every time .

This last paragraph entices me to comment on some of the God whisperers I’ve met. From them I’ve learned valuable lessons. People do talk behind our backs and humans will conspire to deceive those they are envious of. And sycophantic wasps try to enter the beehives of those who believe themselves superior.  Anyone can write a book of right thinking indoctrination, which seems to give wondrous answers to life’s conundrums. Problem is there is no answer, life’s a guessing game and as good as the worst bastard who comes into your environment. I’d guess just one in a million spirituals can live by his or her  beliefs and I’ve never met that evasive number one, probably never will. And by the way, if I’m given a choice I’m not being reincarnated as anything other than a rich, healthy and wealthy man who lives in a world of sublime happiness where every human is stunning to look at and does not argue. It will be a world where cigarettes and booze will not kill me and motorcycles are as safe as breathing the air at the top of a Swiss Mountain summit.

Sunday Morning Texas - As Desolate as My MiND

Sunday Morning Texas – As Desolate as My MiND

I do not care if a celebrity dies or is billionaire. I know Hitler was a murdering bastard and millions of Germans loved him. Dangle a carrot of fear or prosperity and a whole populations follow the lies of a tyrant. When the Jews were pushed into the cattle wagon it wasn’t for tea with the Rabbi was it? And those who watched did they understand right and wrong? Of cause they did.  The world is full of vindictive, poisoned mind bastards who wallow in their self importance. I am not a sheep or a slave, I’ve no interest or care for opinion or critic, like, love, dislike, hate or hate me, bring it on sweethearts I just love to have caused an interest in ME!

There comes a time when we realise we can say as we like.  I know I have, and now do. It is a fact I’ve have enjoyed myself talking absolute crap to people all of my life and I will continue to do so. If I’d have known what the deal was, it would not have been a desire to be a diver, dentist, becoming a ‘mature’ theosophical degree student or all round good egg. I’d have been a writer and tap tap tapping on the key board is the way I should have gone right at the beginning, and the work does not have to be perfect. So many want to be perfect, pick holes in the work of others, rip the hearts out of those they do not know. I despise these ‘I’m better than you’ tossers and laugh and I mean laugh at their arrogance these critics are comedians in a concentration camp. Christ I know so many people who profess to know everything and they have FUCK ALL. They are fakes, fakes, fakes at least in my lie I am a reality.

Had I had written about a laughing leprechaun and an astronaut stranded in space things may have been different. Lets continue the possible story… During my early career, I’ll lie and say I’m queer. For a few years I go into obscurity in Berlin, surrounded by crazy Communism and cocaine addicts. My body and mind is abused and Against the odds I come back form obscurity. Over a forty year career I write and publish 258 short three minute stories, which is incidentally 13 hours of reading or seven shorts each year of the time scale and in return for public adoration of my genius I become worth eight hundred million or about three point one million per story. Above all I will do everything my way and without compromise. Would it work? Of cause it would, it did for the man who was a true genius, his name is of cause David Jones.

I believe his real wonder and majesty is within in the third from last sentence.

So I will repeat it.

Above all, I will do everything my way and without compromise.  

If only I knew then, what I know now! I’m on my way in my own world and I dislike, detest, even hate some people, that is my being, my character and personality. I love and adore only a few and I could not care for any human being I do not know. I my final years I’m writing to antagonise, and I have no interest in anything other than tapping and recording my thoughts. Which I do Because I CAN do so, do not like my work? Then don’t read it, tell others not to read it, go out of your way to find fault.  Make no mistake Miss Scarlett No Clue Though – If one, just one reader likes this essay, for all of its mistakes, ‘typo’s’. nonsense, then it was worth the effort.

Its all random, flee flow paragraphs. I’m not dead yet but the final sleep seems to be a sublime option.

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