I was ten years old in 1970, in that era Viet Nam was the enemy and there were lots of people that looked like them to me. An appearance didnt make much of an impression on me as it did my family. The government where I grew up picked my enemies for me and made up stories about why it was my duty to recognize these slanty eyed people as the bad guys. The people who were once my sworn enemy now live where I’m from and we get along fine.
From WW II my parents were taught to hate, in one case the native born relatives of the enemy were locked up. Products were banned or favored to support your side and the bankers wept. Mass media was steering the direction of war lying to the public about the details and the politicians said it was keeping us safe.
Traveling to other peoples lands has always been uneventful I have never been detained by border authority or molested by foreign police for anything. I do avoid going where the homeland shits, lots of governments are unhappy with the results they got compared to the promises that were made.
Now its Muslims for war and jews for guilt. The stories about why change with the times but the extremists and the bankers keep us living as we do. Choosing not to play brings social judgements based on statutes and code, enforced by armed thugs that seem to have good aim or lots of ammo.
The story doesnt seem to matter as long as there are enemies that need to be killed, people who need to move up out of slavery and into debt slavery instead. The games we play as adults look foolish to a child even a kid can tell when somebody wants something for nothing or when things are tilted to one side. The system is here to beat you into submission for the greater good as the bankers wipe their asses with their own fiat currency.
When is enough, enough?
People treat machines with more care then they do people.
Having a GREAT TIME, with a VERY BEAUTIFUL SINGER, Betty Martin, of THE GEORGIA SONG WRITERS BAND, one night in Dahlonega, GA
Once upon a time, long long ago, in a far away land there was a landfill, a landfill unlike any other on the planet. And on this landfill lived a unique Fly, he was known as Freedom Fly, FF was no ordinary fly. Freedom Fly had a dream, FF was determined to make his 72 hours in the landfill remarkable and amazing. The best life a fly could ever have.
The flies were gathering to feast at the annual Democratic National Convention, FF had different ideas. FF wanted to crash the ACDC concert featuring Axl Hose in a wheel chair pretending to be Bonn Scott but the other flies refused to join him.
The majority were in the mood for rich white guy but FF was in the mood for nasty old white guys starving for attention surrounded by old women. Our hero had a dream, he wanted to sit on Axl’s nose while Angus Young attacked FF with a Gibson. Going out as the fly that made Angus attack Axl with a guitar breaking his nose, blackening an eye and pissing Axl off was FF’s dream.
On the other hand, the death count at the DNC was 100% flies cant survive the cold climate of the DNC and died. The morale of this epic tale is being in the majority is boring.
What would become of me if I stopped believing in all things man made and decided to live in my own reality, under my own terms and conditions? I would erase all manors of control over me starting with time, refuse to recognize Monday as the oppressor of freedom, stand naked in my garden at 2 pm and stare at the sky for no damn reason or get milk for coffee.
I decided long ago the collective has made society so unattractive I choose not to participate in it. I refuse to pay taxes on fiat currency to murderers pretending to protect others while they steal everything that isn’t bolted down and kill those who stand against their invasions.
I don’t contract with government, I found honesty will keep lawyers, clergy and politicians as far from me as they can get. After all, the nature of society is to control us and keep us safe from ourselves and others.
You can have this complicated, exaggerated, excuse for survival of the fittest. In my mid 20’s I saw the dynamics of society as they were explained to me as lies designed to confuse, deceive and misdirect us into submission. Choosing sides that have a leader is serving your master, call it what you like but these assholes don’t give a fuck about us. That is the only bridge that I needed to cross, on the other side I can just be me.
How does society serve you?
Where I am has never made any difference, there is always tragedy being spewed about far away lands, with horrid leaders and the people that need to be saved (what about the rest of us). I found it hard to give a shit about somebody in a distant land that dared to say no to my homeland because progress is one sided. Congress will just destroy the opposition and blame the POTUS. The Corporations have so much control over government they offer assholes like Clinton and Trump as leaders.
How do I collapse an illusion?
Stop believing its real and it goes away.
Jordan Page and his family need some help. Please help out anyway you can, if not monetarily then with good healing thoughts or prayer. Thank You!
Click here to support Thomas Page Medical Fund by Lauren Burk
Thomas was diagnosed with Sagittal craniosynostosis. This diagnoses requires a five hour surgery with a hospital stay of five days. He is having surgery on 6/1/16. Surgery will be taking place at the Seattle Children’s Hospital. Mom will have to fly with him and will have quite a bit of traveling expenses. He is a very happy little guy!
The double talk started when a group of gold hoarding, slave driving rich fukers got together and thought up the scam that charges living beings a fee to exist and live a comfortable life. Some people are so indoctrinated into this illusion they over look the family they come from that supports them. Competition and success was planted in me as it was everyone else and all was well until 1980.
The results of political change is told in one way and exists in another way. Fighting to keep a job, fighting to stay married, fighting to survive, this was the start of adulthood and it looked like a trap to me. They pounded these lies into me until I started to look for a different way to live!
I was ridiculed for my fear of compliance, joining is not for me. Instead of being appreciated for my personal stand against the machine the majority of the public attack my beliefs and actions and point out the weakness of depending on another human. Standing alone and being free is lonely work that seems unrewarded when it happens. Freedom for me is not being obligated to perform a task to afford the luxury of living indoors, eating food and washing my stuff.
The game society plays to survive is as attractive as you allow it to be. Not many people believe in themselves enough to disregard the deception society has turned into and comply believing it is good for them. Dont lie to others for personal benefit, dont kill anybody and grow hemp like you mean it. These three actions will cure the society we are victims of and make a real change. Good luck in the game and just keep laughing.
I don’t get licensed to drive or own a car, it gives me a chance to stretch my legs, exercise my lungs and take in my fellow travelers on my journey. There is a store by the train station I stop at for tobacco. What got my attention were the two kids I passed three times in two days. On the way home the other day, the two lads were walking toward the train as I was heading away from it. The lad closest to me asked in Danish if I could give him a smoke! How could two guys share one smoke? I gave them each one and in my American sounding voice said, see ya later.
I have lived here for a year and a half and these two kids are the only strangers I have run into two days in a row. The second day I was headed from the train on my way home and I see these two kids walking towards me as we met I said to them in a sarcastic tone, you want a smoke right and again offered them each a smoke.
Earlier the second day I went to get Circles some baking stuff and in my state of mind forgot the Hvedemel and everyone knows you can not bake cinnamon bread without Hvedemel. So, for the third time in two days back to the store I went to repair my error. These two kids are again walking toward me from the station, as they approached me one the kids grabs his crafty pack of ciggies to offer me one. I never did value a smoke unless I didn’t have any, I had some and told these two kids that repaying me would be appreciated but not necessary, but one day we might pass and I would need one and if they remembered me or somebody else when they had plenty of smokes all would be good.
In one and a half years I have become a functioning member of local society, both strangers and acquaintances acknowledge me as a living being on a mundane journey through an average day the only difference between us is my inability to speak their language. Like where I am from some people like to speak in English and some people don’t. I find it similar to liking blue over red, a matter of personal taste. They haven’t started a support group to protect themselves from the American invasion I must represent to the indoctrinated, I don’t fly old glory, blast Rush Limpballs on the unsuspecting passers by and never and I mean never drink the golden lady (again).