Musing on the Times as Lord Apocalypse Appears

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

You got to love The Apocalypse. Elie the Weasel is getting brilliantly stripped and hammered by a talented practitioner and someone else wants you to ‘find Eli’s tattoo’ and win valuable prizes. It appears that Elie was never in a concentration camp and stole the identity of someone who was, along with the man’s writings. Once again, The Nobel Prize proves itself to be a travesty and a celebration of all that is dark in humanity.

The debris from the torpedo that sank the South Korean sub was made in Germany. You don’t have to be an Oxford scholar to figure out who is slipping through the Suez Canal with German torpedoes or who has the world record for false flag activity.

The Duchess of York got bagged trying to sell introductions to her ex-husband who is a pillar of righteousness, to hear the media spin it in their usual, unbelievable fashion. You got to love The Apocalypse.

This thing about Obama not being a U.S, citizen won’t go away but I don’t know what to think about that. I know he’s not a member of the human race and that’s probably a lot more important. Now I hear from Wayne Madsen that Obama and Emanuel are both long standing members of Chicago’s oldest gay bathhouse and I don’t know what to think. He really gets into the details too. Reading it is an experience. I can easily believe any of it and pretty much anything else but we are definitely not in Kansas anymore and I was never in Kansas to begin with. I remember living in America at one time but that’s so far away in my consciousness that it seems little more than a bad dream at this time.

What I remember about America is how there were always police about and how they were generally intimidating and looking for trouble. I remember how the presence of crime at every level was a given that you had to keep in mind. I remember a lot of violent bars and the suffocating pressure of materialism on all sides. I remember a lot of things I have never seen in Europe. The UK is the place for that. Here, I’ve never met an unpleasant member of the police force. I seldom even see them. I do not encounter crime and I have yet to discover a violent bar. I don’t spend much time in them in any case... but I’ve never found one in any of the countries I’ve been in.

I catch people looking at me a lot. I don’t know if it’s because I’m tall ...or some kind of vibrationary thing. The looks are curious or apprehensive, depending on the age of the observer- it seems -but it never leads to anything. Direct encounters with people in stores or for whatever reason are unfailingly pleasant. People are usually in a good mood, except in parts of Germany, where they labor under the weight of various invisible gravities that we are familiar with. It’s a palpable depression, which I hope they shake because they are an enormously gifted people and I have never seen anywhere else, the degree of honesty that is the normal state of affairs there; lose your wallet and it comes back to you intact. I’ve seen this happen half a dozen times, never for me because I use a waist pack (grin).

Every single day is evidence of the presence and determined operation of The Apocalypse. For years I thought The Apocalypse was some grim, hammer and tongs, end of the world thing. Now I realize it’s one of the best things to ever show up at any time. It’s not a good thing for the bad guys but it’s a breath of fresh air for everyone else; strike that, we’re not talking about fresh air here but... the uncovered stench holds the promise of some fine and long desired transformations and freedoms on up the road.

The ironies of the moment are breath-taking. As one ugly truth after another, lurches like an incontinent alcoholic up out of some deep place beneath the surface streets, the collective of Schmoos who make up the body of the population, continue to march in lockstep toward some unknown destination. The only difference between them and the beasts of the fields is that they have hands to facilitate their appetites for the Imperial Stomach. It’s feeding at both ends. At one end it consumes packaged death and at the other it eats its own regenerative organs, lest some portion of the potential, spiritual light find its way into the tower and exposes the realities that they prefer not to see.

I understand it is my duty to love them, something grand and filled with possibility is hidden within them but it is most difficult to see and they will tear you to pieces if you don’t watch how you go. Under the sway of some atavistic, reptile mind they are at war with their own best interests and have turned the precious gift of free will into a weapon against themselves and everyone they encounter. It’s not an obvious thing that can be perceived in the short run. It’s something that defines itself in the summation of their works. It hides under the banner of patriotism and lip service to an anthropomorphic God. It plots and operates beneath the garments of their posturing as what they wish to appear to be.

They chatter like chipmunks on their cellphones and possess the same attention span. They spin on the wheel of interchangeable fight or flight, believe liars and manifest scorn and contempt upon those who would free them of their bondage to an unshakeable ignorance. Their vanities are the stuff of a sick humor that soars on the wings of a manipulated imagination. They circle their own corpses like a gliding vulture and do not recognize it.

It must be that in opening themselves to the truth, they compromise the possibilities of their hunger for material goods. It appears that there is nothing worse than for them to lose faith in the permanence of temporary things. The Apocalypse will not be kind to them or to their satanic overlords. Conditions will worsen until awakening is unavoidable. It seems to be the only way. It is not the only way but they have built a mighty wall against all of the more benevolent options.

The problem in The Gulf seems a matter of indifference to so many; significant portions are unaware of it at all. It’s a sad and painful truth that they cannot see the danger till it knocks on their door. As long as it is around the corner it has no importance at all. It seems that their unconscious motto is, “Better him than me.”

I’ve studied this phenomenon as it has worsened over time. I’ve thought over many an hour about what it is possible for anyone to do to have a positive and telling effect upon it. I have arrived at no solutions besides the ceaseless effort to rid myself of personal shortcomings. One can only lead by example but the example must be seen. I suspect that the most attractive examples are appearing on Entertainment Tonight and the Fox Channel. It always seems to come back to pulling a Lao Tzu and riding out between the gates of civilization into what remains of Nature.

It’s a difficult thing, abandoning your comrades, who have no idea that you are their comrade. It’s a hard weight, to cheerfully serve those who are indifferent to your presence and it’s near impossible to truly know yourself in a world that hunts to the death its every appearance. We see the truth of it all in myth and legend. The archetypes play out variations on a theme through the whole of the long and winding road of life. It’s always the same story, got up with different characters, in a new environment with the same result.

If I am grateful for anything besides the presence of the ineffable divine, it is having been given the occasional glimpse into the worlds beyond. This has made everything endurable and it makes you wonder if androids really do dream of electric sheep. They are dreaming of something. They do not realize, I suppose, that salvation is not guaranteed, simply by acknowledging the presence of the one who sweeps up after you. It takes a deal more than that but the idea that this is all you need, fits in perfectly with everything else they believe and none of which is true.


End Transmission.......

Visible sings: ♫ When Darkness Falls ♫
'When Darkness Falls' is track no. 5 of 11 on Visible's 2001 album 'God in Country'
Lyrics (pops up)


The New Shangri-La.

Petri Dish Mirror.

Dress Rehearsal is Over. it's Time for Opening Night.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Crank up the nausea machine. Activate the bad taste module. Put a quarter in the Rolfing Golem, lay down and hope it passes. Bristol Palin is going on the talk lecture tour. Apparently she’s going to talk about abstinence, instead of just abstaining from making a bigger fool of herself than she already is. She’s going to get $15,000 to $30,000 an appearance. Levi Johnston is said to be in Hollywood looking for a reality show which is newspeak for, “Get a life”, without the necessity of actually doing so. It’s an incredible disconnect to hear about TSA and border thugs manhandling the populace while banality has become the God of the people.

There’s some good news. Long time political whore and Israeli operative, Arlen Spectre (spelling intentional) has been given the boot after pulling a Joe Lieberman, without success, because Pennsylvania doesn’t have the level of general corruption that Connecticut has, which is kind of like saying that you’re never going to get the same smell from an ordinary two week old, dead body that you will get from a floater of the same age, unprofessionally pulled out of the Detroit River, with a misplaced grappling hook. He’ll be off to his next life as munitions lobbyist for The Carlyle Group as soon as Cthulhu climbs up out of the Gulf of Mexico and gives George Bush a blow job, which is kinda like beating a dead horse without the entertainment factor. This is in no wise meant to distract from Bush Senior’s actual focus of sexual attraction, which you can find through only a cursory internet search.

Do I really need to talk like this? Well, it’s the Petri Dish, that concave, virtual glass object that holds Western Culture in its cupped embrace. You can take an electron microscope and use it like Google Earth to get a street view of the people moving through it without gum boots but you have to utilize a few well placed mirrors to get the actual effect. The only thing I ever used Petri dishes for was to prepare cocaine for insufflation and that’s only accessed in The Wayback Machine these days.

If this is true, then we are now living in the moment of an extended “Bad Day at Black Rock”. We are seeing the nature of evil at the surface of its expression and “The Human Centipede” is the other half of the double feature, which is playing beneath the surface; do not see that movie and do not say I didn’t warn you.

It’s a bit of a trip to absolutely believe in the divine ineffable and to write like this at the same time but it just so happens that the ineffable does not behave according to human understanding or the cute little stage sets that sexually dysfunctional men of the cloth designed for him. God’s the ultimate outlaw. I’m pretty sure he has no intention of behaving according to the rules forced down upon us by men and women who don’t obey them either. Furthermore, all one has to do is read about his exploits to realize that he does what he pleases and for his own pleasure and that the entirety of creation is nothing more than a vehicle for his entertainment. We take things too seriously because we don’t take the truly important things seriously.

I don’t know what to tell you, which you have probably guessed by now but I will try to come up with something comforting and faith enhancing. I can tell you this. It all works out and appearances are deceiving. That’s a good thing because appearances are going to get increasingly worse as it all works out. I’d suggest a light touch and a conscious focus on levitating the expected heaviness of the heart, as it appears to spiral more and more out of control. It is a spiral and that is also a good thing.

I will tell you it is time to batten down the hatches or move to wherever it is that you expect to be when the baseball sized, flaming hail stones start raining out of the skies. It’s time for you to either fully trust in what animates you or go into survival preparation mode. I’m in the former class so I’m not making any preparations at all; taking it one day at a time and expecting things to just keep improving as they presently are doing. I don’t recommend this unless you believe it. If you do then you won’t need anything else. If you don’t then nothing else will be sufficient.

The problem with trying to understand the nature and depth of evil is that it is not possible unless you are willing to become evil by degrees as you progress to the core. The core is composed of the same thing that composes the mystery that is the majority attraction of a femme fatale. As you explore this mystery and come to the center you find there was nothing there at all. The currency of mystery is mystery itself. Once explored you find there was nothing mysterious except the appearance of it.

These are all things that we carry around with us, usually in an undeveloped state. Show business is the same thing. It’s a fantasy woven out of nothing and given presence and importance through the use of lights, mirrors and music. Life itself is easily as empty unless the only thing possessing reality inhabits your person in an activated sense and also has your attention.

This is also a very good thing because all you have to do is discover the real and dismiss the unreal and what doesn’t exist won’t be in a position to hurt you. The point of blessing things is that the act sets up a resonance with what is real and dissolves what is not on its way toward making contact. Cursing things is similar to breathing the breath of life into zombies.

I realize how all of this sounds put into the language of the Petri Dish. However, if something is so then it is true in the roughest presentation as it is in the most sublime. If it isn’t, all the prettiest words in the world won’t give it enduring life.

What’s this all about? The non-existent shit is about to hit the non-existent fan and cover all the things composed of it with more of the same. The hallucinated body doubles from Ghost World, like Hillary Clinton, are dead serious about using their seeming superiority, while it’s preeminent and before any balance of power can come into place to check it. The premise is as ignorant by contrast to the degree to which they consider themselves to be informed and is going to have the predictable result.

To the extent that something is considered necessary and desirable; to that extent it is going to become rare and difficult to obtain. People in the act of stockpiling are going to become the new grocery stores for the rampaging mob. Because of the deep cosmic need for a universal lesson, these things are going to take place in order to define the value of what is euphemistically called civilization at this time. Some will be in the movie and some will be watching it from varying distances.

You know what sort of locations, due to density, are going to be the primary staging grounds. You know which countries, due to the nature of the culture and the government is going to host the majority of the scenes. You know what sort of conditions are going to provoke what kind reactions based on the laws that have been created over the course of recent years. You know by the nature of evidence given, concerning disasters natural and manufactured, what sort of additional special effects might manifest in which locations.

Well, you must have come here for a reason and we are about to find out what that is. Since it really is a movie, my suggestion is that you make a deep investigation of what you consider to be your part and play it with all your might. It doesn’t hurt to have an in with the director either.


End Transmission.......

Visible sings: ♫ Sing it Loud ♫
'Sing it Loud' is track no. 6 of 10 on Visible's eponymous
'Les Visible' Music Album
Lyrics (pops up)


The New Shangri-La.

Petri Dish Mirror.

Pardon My Language, You Lying Sacks of Shit

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

It’s Petri Dish after all and it needs to be said; a loosely aligned aggregate of psychopaths, bi-pedal lizards, Satanists, Draconian Religion Junkies, Coprophagial Wannabe Anti-Christ’s, Garden Variety Greed Monkeys and assorted clowns with the blood of children on their costumes and big ass shoes are working over time with time cards in six different names to feed bank accounts in three different countries, while they turn Planet Earth into a stinking, smoldering rubbish dump because that’s their idea of the forever and ever getaway, Bahamas Beach in the mind of an insane fool who, having destroyed and consumed everything and everyone, will spend eternity atop the rubbish dump, gnawing off his own foot.

These sterling representatives of what may or may not be life forms, are aided and abetted by some of the most clueless- beyond ignorant- (and beyond definition by those of us who have watched it happen in front of our eyes) oyster-brained, lawn ornaments, pet rocks, retarded beach balls, with purple dragons on them and a collection of various flea market items for alien locations, where they are purchased and used for things I probably shouldn’t be talking about. These... these... uh, whatever they are, share equal responsibility for the antics and success of the first group, because without their devolutionary, fast track, three legged, potato sack race into the primordial, entropic swamp, the world would not presently resemble a swollen colostomy bag, well past its due date. Folks, stand up, take a bow, you’re the ones who made it possible.

You’re the ones who would embarrass a turnip with your mute acceptance of the indefensible lies that are presently pouring from all of the polluted mediums of the world press.

For the last several days I have donned my puncture proof space suit and walked through the septic regions of the media to encounter things that offend every good and decent thing that life is the promise of. You feckless whores, who can allow yourselves for money, to spread with your lying mouths and hands the endless redundant lies that it seems impossible to me that anyone could still believe... you; would that I had a voice of thunder accompanied by spiritual fire... would that I did. You would soon have an epiphany of a kind unimagined by you.

Here are men and women; well dressed and well spoken, possessed of all the social graces... all of you knowing you are corrupt and venal and full of shit, each of you talking to each other and nodding your heads in agreement with each other about things you know are not true and... things you and your vicious handlers orchestrated and then blamed on the defenseless as well.

I am here to tell you that you will not prevail. Your plots and weapons and lies are going to turn against you. A voice is crying out in my mind from that central point shared by all living things and it will accuse you to yourself. One reality that I promise you is that you will have the veils lifted from your hearts and minds and you will see yourself as you are and everywhere you go and everything you attempt to do, you will be reminded of this, so that you will be unable to function but also unable to stop trying. Your contempt and loathing for yourself will be your cardinal awareness and will accuse you to yourself without pause.

Something...someone... is coming, coming across the distance within the enduring portions of every single one of us and it approaches by the hour. It is coming and there is no force, no weapon; nothing that can hinder it. Even now you are aware of it. You cannot define it, nor have you any concept of what it is... but it knows you.

As it presently stands, you can step away from the murderous and selfish behavior that you have raised to an art form. I am telling you that mercy attends the coming of this being. Other qualities attend as well. Only a fool will not leap to the possibility of mercy. It is extended and as it withdraws, it is incrementally replaced by something else. You can take this as you like but I am assured to a degree that I am assured of little else that this will come to pass.

Many of you imagine yourselves to be possessed of intelligence and cunning. Many of you are lawyers who believe they can cut a deal with the devil himself. You are going to have that opportunity. I would suggest a voluntary plea of guilty now rather than the imposition of it following your unsuccessful defense and sentencing. You would be surprised to see how much it mirrors what you are already so familiar with; this is part of the remarkable irony of the affair entire.

It is rather pointless of me to address the vegetable contingent as I can myself hear how it would sound... like ambient noise. I will say this, though it appears that ignorance and relentless denial are forms of protection, I can guarantee you they are not; no more than an armadillo’s shell is any protection against the tires of a semi on a southwestern highway.

I know how it got this way. It starts with something like this, “Give me control of a nation's money supply, and I care not who makes the laws.” After that it is a formal progress in which every area of society is corrupted for the profit of whoever is controlling the money supply. Even those who mean well in any position are in no position to effect change, because the money compromises them or blackmails them or threatens them until they submit or walk away; provided that is possible.

This process includes the intentional dumbing down by degrees, according to a formula that has reduced those of you, presently hearing ambient sound, to the condition you can’t find yourself in today; a nation of Tweedledees and Tweddledums marching to the beat of a common drummer, on through the gates, into the chutes and on to the killing floor. The rest of you are in the stands, hypnotized by the lights and cheering the display as if you were not the following act. Some of you no doubt consider it well worth it to be in the lights. After all, fame is a powerful magnet and never so much as when it pulls upon those with no talent and no brains. Once again, stand up and take a bow and give yourselves a hand because you made this possible. They couldn’t have done it without you.

This process that starts with the control of the money moves in predictable stages and if you don’t know what I’m talking about well... just turn around and look down the years and note that everything you see was fashioned and propelled through the changes of the times to the point at which you find yourself now. There is an end game and perhaps if you look closely you can see that too. The kicker is that it never gets accomplished. Oh there’ve been experiments in various countries, which even managed to include other countries for a period of time but it never finalized any more than this one will. But that’s not the point really. The point is where are you in the mix?

I look at the course of humanity as it comes down through time and it looks like a boat on a river. It’s a powerful river as those who have tried to swim against the current have discovered. Its destination is already determined from the moment the boat enters the river. Many individual details are not. Seen in fast forward, it appears to be a dangerous passage filled with screams and hands and heads disappearing beneath the froth that bangs against the rocks. Rapids and falls appear. There are periods of calm as well. Somehow, inevitably and always, the banks fall away and the boat passes onto the great sea. We all get there, even if it’s floating face down (grin). However that isn’t the point of the moment. What are you going to do about it now?


End Transmission.......

Visible sings: ♫ Walk Thru The Fire Or Burn ♫
Lyrics (pops up)
The New Shangri-La.

Petri Dish Mirror.