"It is The Fatal Attraction of All Doomed Love Affairs... Singing to The Dragons Underground; Shake The Earth!"

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

I think sometimes about what Abraham asked God, concerning Sodom and Gomorrah; “May the Lord not be angry, but let me speak just once more. What if only ten can be found there?” This was after he already asked if he could find fifty... forty-five... forty... thirty-five... thirty... twenty... righteous men, would he spare the cities, and... then... there... were... none; Sayonara Sodom and Gomorrah.

So... what we are witnessing. This is not the first time it has happened. Certain sexual behavior was so 'common in Sodom' (grin) that the name of the town became an ever-after identifier for the practice. It comes round again, and again, and again. It is the fruit of Materialism. When the idea of God departs from the human mind, all that remains is the sexual angle... and because lasting satiation is not to be found there, the celebration of the act becomes more and more perverse because ♫ the thrill is gone ♫

It astounds me how easily professionals will sell their souls for reputation and money; how quickly they will pollute and prostitute the science... if science it even was.

They reflexively legitimize EVERYTHING because of what will happen to them if they don't. Once again... it brings us back to The Emperor's New Clothes. I can't do it. I'm sorry... (no, I'm not sorry) I can't. I know I am not alone in this. As e.e.cumming said in that remarkable poem, “i sing of Olaf glad and big,” “there is some shit I will not eat.”

Remember when I mentioned the root races of Humanity in the last posting? Well... here is something; I think is mostly from HPB about all that, which I ran into later in the day.

For those of you who get that far, take note of what gets said about the Semitic race. Also, take note that I didn't say it.

By... the... day. By... the... day, I wonder... how long? How long can this madness continue? The culture is starting to look like a massive... festering... boil; a pimple... some kind of excrescence. Something that is pressing... being pressed to the surface by systemic force; perhaps it is the leeching of the by-products of Materialism to the street-side, public locations?

Materialism has overflowed its containers and released a cannibal darkness upon the poisoned urban dream of no-exit cities. Once human creatures... lurch in and out of the deadly fog.

It is as if some steaming... toxic substance that has long been percolating below the sight-line, is now... no longer contained by whatever barriers there might have been, and is overflowing like broken water mains. It is not only coming up from the subterranean reaches below the surface. It is also overflowing from human forms into acts of psychosis...into temporary and not-so-temporary acts of insanity.

Entire cities are being overwhelmed by the phenomena. Portland and Seattle... every major urban center on the west coast... is now a minefield of the creeping dead. Step on the wrong section of sidewalk and flesh-eating zombies appear. Truly... a darkness is upon the land. It is eating the minds of children, the way primitive cultures scoop out the brains of monkeys and consume them. I am not exaggerating here.

Homeless... and hopelessly insane people are receiving messages that only they can hear. Different and competing personas, well up in these hijacked minds. They all think they are on alien space cameras, performing in front of unseen audiences. On one corner a vagrant is possessed by the spirit of Al Pacino... waving his arms at invisible bugs, he screams, over and over, “I'm in the dark heah!”

On the next corner, it's Pacino channeling again. This time it's in front of a Bank of America branch and he's doing Dog Day Afternoon. A porcine man in a pink tutu... hirsute and unwashed... goes by on a skateboard, flashing his privates at some Catholic middle school students who are talking about opening a joint, Only Fans account.

Up the street... a drugstore cowboy is humping a wooden Indian outside a cigar store. A good dozen budding auteurs are catching the action on their iPhones. They trade these snippets at the end of the day like Pokémon cards. There's a sidewalk preacher every hundred feet (much be some zoning thing) screaming about The End Times, while hookers laugh at them and throw discarded syringes.

Something that looks like two Lizzos duct-taped together is twerking to sounds coming out of a boombox with flashing lights, and I am on a street corner in my mind, talking to the future where... hopefully the laser force of intense visualization will wipe these images from The Surface World of The Hive Mind... or at least my own.

Do I exaggerate? No! I do not. Something is pressing with irresistible force upon the collective and individual subconscious, and... you get what is appearing... worldwide... in every urban center of intense human concentrations. They are outnumbered only by the roaches and rats.

This force is the cosmic identifier of what's inside. It presses all that is hidden within before the eyes of The World. One either channels it into something of beauty or... the resistance to it results in abomination... whatever the weakest link is... thar she blows! It is the force of apocalypse and revelation. It is the wind in the withers. It is the fatal attraction of all doomed love affairs singing to the dragons underground to make The Earth tremble.

The Bitch Queen Regent of The Underworld is riding her mount, Nightmare. She is bound for the Gog-Magog Rodeo for The Barrel Race Competition. What dark dreams have unleashed this madness upon The World?

Somewhere... in the places where The Filthy Rich count their money and drink the blood of children, they plot the overthrow of The World as we once knew it. This is not hyperbole or fiction. This is real. This is what they do because the madness has gotten them too. Everything within everyone is being exposed for what it is.

It... does... not... have... to... be... this... way!!! Some dream of the lemon groves of Ithaca, like Ulysses, wandering in search of his homeland. Some dream of Saruman's foundries from which howling orc legions come, brandishing terrible weapons. These creatures were once human, but now the video games have come to life. What made them so? Materialism made them so. It is the tragic love affair with dead matter and animated dust that made them so.

It is the Treasure of Sierra Madre Flu, running like a wildfire across the empty plains of vacant minds in search of someone to possess and rule them. They will not have long to wait. Will the streets clean themselves? Will the crazy make themselves sane? Will the stupid technologies run forever when there is nowhere to plug them in?

Somehow they have all lost their minds. Wind power is no answer, better to harness the wind of all the hot air coming from the mouths of the helium heads, blown completely out of proportion to their actual size by the delusions of arrogance. They are men drunk on power. Do... they... not... see... themselves?

This is God's doing. This is the answer to the vanities of those not equal to the task of self-mastery. This is the final demonstration of how things do not work... and all the bobbleheads nodding in accord with their paymasters will get their just rewards. The men who count their money laugh; crying, “who can stop us?” Oh... they will cry too.

Now they dream of wars they are no longer capable of fighting. They have reduced their potential armies to feckless... intoxicated... cross-dressers. They have failed us and they have failed themselves. We all bought a ticket to The Next Act... to commence soon. That is why and how we come to be here...

Here is their legacy... a blasted landscape where nothing sane remains; ♫ oh terrible for chem-trailed skies, for endless fields of pain, from purple mountain's travesties, above... the... looted... plains ♫

Hey... it's not all doom and gloom, BUT... you had better mind how you go.

End Transmission.......

I see where the Absolutely Linear... Cinderblock Heads are now back again with their CIA-conceived cointelpro... mind abortion... Flat Earth bullshit. Here's my reply; over the course of thousands of years... when once there were sages and illumined rishis, far wiser than any today... there was NEVER one who said anything about The Earth being flat. NONE of the great minds of history; Socrates-Plato-Aristotle... the realized yogis and Hermetic scientists and alchemists... Apollonius... Pythagoras... Paracelsus... Hermes Trismegistus... Copernicus and Galileo... my dear friend Giordano Bruno, and scads more... none of them indulged such nonsense, and... neither do I... who am not even fit to be in their company.

Some links are to be had at GAB=.