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A genius uses one component in a dazzling way, fueling it with the others.
I took a sip of my drink.
“Hi there beautiful,” I said. ”Made that suicide attempt yet?”
“No,” a girl answered as she walked by. “I'm in a collective now.”
“Good for you”, I said. “Of course there's no reason one can't have collective suicides too.”

Umberto Eco - Foucault's Pendulum

In the beginning, there were no beginnings. There were no need for them.

But somewhere between then and now, people started wondering. Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going? And they came up with answers. And they came up with beginnings. But of course, everybody had different answers, because everybody had a different beginning (Or was it the other way round?). You see, the alternative was to assume that there was no beginning and that we are swirling in a mass of chaos with no answers, with no objective reference point from which to gauge, on which to gauge, eh........... everything. That's all one would need, one tiny objective reference point, and everything would be okay.

{ln:Aquaria 'God}, Heaven, the Creation, the Big Bang, an atom, a quark, a platonic universe, Hyper-space, Jesus, Buddha, the Sun, the Earth, Sacred Places, Agartha, The Grail, The Ark, The Philosopher's Stone, the Soul, Gravity, Time and Space...All failed the test.

{slimbox images/stories/posters/cyborg_2087.jpg, images/stories/posters/cyborg_2087.jpg }

Because, of course, the truth is there are no absolutes.
You see, it wasn't the acceptance of any particular answer or beginning that was the problem. Rather, it was the naive assumption that one's answer was better than any others. Imagine a person with such an objective point. No matter what information he receives will be gauged based on his reference, therefore there will be no paradoxes.

If there appears to be a paradox, then it's because the other information is wrong. It's as simple as that.

To question the dominant objective reference point could get one burned as a heretic or institutionalized, or maybe nothing more than being considered an outsider by one’s peers. So the only remaining option was to keeps one's mouth shut and not think too much about objective points, or God, or life. To basically stop asking Who am I? or Where Am I going?


{slimbox images/stories/rocket-head.jpg,rocket-head.jpg,Cyborg 2087}

Bob believed, he believed he could build a game that would mimic life. He would be a god himself. He reckoned if life was a system, if the universe is a system, if nature is a system and the mind is a system- then what he has to do is build a very big system.

He would build in out of components, modules of code. And this system would feedback onto itself and correct itself and find the true balance of .... the true balance of everything.

And it was good.

And Bob would call this the eclectic meme connection because every module would represent an idea a single unit of knowledge. It was the beginning.

Bob based his work in the concept of memes, ideas, units of culture that could replicate and mutate in a healthy memepool or die in a sickly one, by Richard Dawkins

The same Dawkins who wrote the selfish genes and popularised the idea that we, human beings, you and I, were merely machines, vessels for our DNA, our eternal masters.

But it wasn't Dawkins who came up with this idea, nope. So we go back before that beginning and meet Mr Hamilton.

The selfish gene theory which holds that humans are machines controlled by genes  was invented by William Hamilton. William Hamilton went to Kisangani in the Democratic Republic of the Congo while the Second Congo War was raging. He went there to collect Chimpanzee faeces to test his theory that HIV was due to a medical mistake. Unfortunately he caught malaria, for which he took aspirin, which caused a haemorrhage and he died.

 However his selfish gene theory lived on.


The experts started talking to each other via the new mediums. And they start to realise either they are ALL wrong or they are ALL right. With the help of some esoteric teachers, including a large number of Buddhists, some of the experts (+-ven none at all. Rather than looking for building blocks of matter, they looked at the universe as a whole, or at the relationship between different objective viewpoints.

(Don't worry we'll get back to this.)

So, there were the Hidden Masters who want everybody to be experts, and there are The Old Masters who want to remain the Elite. Since the Old Masters were already in power, it was very easy for them to maintain the power. Meanwhile, the New Masters were obliged to move underground.

Cybernetics has been applied to human beings to attempt to build societies without central control, self organising networks built of people, based on a fantasy view of nature.
{slimbox images/stories/posters/acid.jpg,images/stories/posters/acid_sm.jpg,Acid}
I don’t know I’m not a fucking dealer dealer.

DMT is almost never sold through dealers,naturally occurs in the body .

Perhaps the most powerful hallucinogen known to man, man . Like totally related to LSD and psilocybin, an’ there’s no tests that would show usage. Not the the basic NIDA-5 drug tests nor any extended drug test.

Can it be synthesised?
Yeah But rarely man It is, however, easily extracted from common plant materials that’s why it’s been used in various forms for hundreds of years.


  {slimbox images/stories/posters/chamber_of_horrors_belgian.jpg,images/stories/posters/chamber_of_horrors_belgian_sm.jpg,Chamber of Horrors (Belgian)}

Boom Boom Boom end of days Man it’s all in the The Bible.  
The Antichrist will  establish the most dictatorial government in all of world history.

"And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name." [Revelation 13:16-17]

I had been sitting in front of my computer screen for about ten years. In 1994 I set up a bbs with old486PC. Since then I ran an underground zine publishing music and demo scene reviews, republishing chomsky papers and vegan recipes. Until recently it had been deemed mostly harmless. Then my path crossed with that of Kevin the Snowman, an employee of BBHQ the Big Brother Holding Company a consulting firm contracted to the CIA

31 Dec 1999:
That’s the night we got busted.
 For partying without a licence.  
The internet was just a baby. I was getting regular usenet reports of atrocities in East Timor, Palestine...

Other shit in Sierra Leone, Algeria, Somalia,Burundi, Nagaland, Ethiopia, Uganda, Nepalese, Afghanistan, Yemen, Yugoslavia, Liberia, Chechnya.
Mostly Afghanistan.
I was following the works of an assassin : Iron Jaw.

Iron Jaw was a soldier who fought for the CIA on the Afghanistan front during the War of Terror.

In the trenches, he met a young Dietrich  and the two conspired to kill a superior officer. The plot worked, but the officer managed to lob a grenade in their direction, before he died. Dietrich ran, but Von Schmidt was caught in the explosion. His jaw, damaged beyond repair, was replaced with a mechanical "Iron Jaw."


My report on Iron Jaw and his destruction of the war protest movement stared back at me stubbornly, or should I say, " …anti- war campaign".

No. anti is just as negative as protest.

I was tired and words are so damned annoying. Why can't people be more like computers. I banged the desk and another dormant monitor sneezed into action.

I’d been hacking into a local branch of the Bonsanto biotech company over the past few nights, just looking no touching. Careful to cover my trail (or so I thought), I was downloading an encrypted file, piece by piece. It might take another day to download, and god knows how long to decrypt. I'd need help. I sent a message out to Gurgeh, requesting a meetup. I was a talented hacker both a coder and a confident social engineer but the ace up my sleeve was Gurgeh. Gurgeh, probably bi-polar was an algorithmist. His natural propensity to see patterns where others don't led to some novel decryption and compression techniques, but he also speaks multiple languages adding a new one on a yearly basis.

I returned to the first terminal. Fuck the war protest, they're gonna lose anyway.

Bonsanto was big. The town I lived in was small. Hacking the mainframes like the others had tried was nigh on impossible. But in this little town, finding someone, who knew someone was easy. From sleepy village to sleepy monster, and Jonah was in the whale. Bonsanto was formed from an alliance between a notorious bioengineering corporation, created by a group of demon worshipers from a hell dimension and the the band U2, who were attempting to decimate parts of Africa after their tax exile status there had been revoked.
{slimbox images/stories/posters/death_race_2000.jpg,images/stories/posters/death_race_2000_sm.jpg,Death Race 2000}


When you look at the wondrous village in the trees, it's hard hard to imagine its conception. 30 wet and drained hippies huddled around a fire in the pouring rain, with little more than a layer of plastic between them and pneumonia.

The plastic made mini rivers and lakes, twisting and meandering through the camp.

The main building had collapsed less than an hour previous. Most were asleep when it came crashing down. It was 4AM. Now they were drunk on poitín. It made the night that much more bearable, as they waited for the rain to subside, or for morning - whichever came first.

When you are faced with that every night, it's amazing how resourceful and hardworking a supposedly lazy bunch of dole heads can be. This forest - the largest in Ireland - was under threat, and for 6 six years, the community lived high in the trees, and underground in tunnels, both natural and man made. This was the last stand for a unique ecosystem. A result of glacial erosion in the ice age.

‘That there is a faerie entrance.’

He points to a small dent in the side of the hill.

‘From there you can travel to hundreds of places around the world in the blink of an eye.’

‘Like where?’

‘Oh, I dunno, The Pyramids maybe, or Newgrange. Stonehenge, or a hundred similar caves that nobody knows about, I guess.’


“The whole universe is one giant hologram, both local and non-local, and our brains are basically a hologram, both local and non-local,” explained the Vampire. “Not that our brains are necessarily the same as the universe, locally or non-locally. “

“But kinda like as below so above?” The Wolfman did his best to keep up or at least add to the conversation. He liked hanging with the Vampire but he tended to make the Wolfman feel a bit stupid.

“But it does mean,” the Vampire continued, “that if you cut your brain in half, you still remember everything that you remembered before hand, just less clearly. It means if you cut the Universe in half, everything remains the same just, eh, less clearly. So every square millimetre contains ALL the information for the entire universe.”

“Soo.........FTL is simply not necessary 'cos everywhere is, eh ........ right here!!” the Wolfman exclaimed delighted that he had drawn his own conclusion.

“Huh,” replied the Vampire, “I guess so”.

The Big Brother holding company has its HQ across from its Masonic Lodge on Alexandria Washington Street, though it appears on no map. Nothing but a nondescript 23 appears over the entrance. Few people ever pass through this door.

Most people who do their business with the BBHC (whether they know it or not) do so through the Masonic Gift shop, 22 Alexandria Washington. Behind the gift shop is situated a large hall. By day it is used as a museum for tourists displaying hints of the quirky underworld of masonry. Hints of Rosicrucians, Templars, assassins and space dogs. By night, it metamorphoses into its more insidious role - the call centre for the BBHC.
Underpaid and frightened women “operate” the indecipherable phone systems. Their magick rites crystallize the negative energy in the poor, bedazzled callers. People in debt, already low in esteem, are ripe for the plucking.

"Please press the pound key to continue.
I'm sorry the pound key is not a valid entry."

Rose (as instructed) projects an elephant into the hall. The bewildered beast lays on its side (as instructed) eager to please the sorceress. Royce may be underpaid but she is not frightened. She scans the hall and her co-workers. She feels genuine pity for them. Don't they realize... They have been let into a secret, and they can either allow the knowledge to terrify them into impotency, or they can use this knowledge to gently subvert the system.
Message from Wavy Lines

The Cell is now two weeks from its neural equinox, already showing signs of integration with the other cells on a psychic level. Its imagination has already superseded that of Erasmus, who has become ill (his force of will has deteriorated to such a degree that he has trouble flying). Perhaps you could pass on my source code to that professor of artificial neuro-surgery with re: to helping me with the Cell.

I'll get back to you.

Thomas lays on his bed. Smoke rises from his joint, merges with that from an incense stick burning on top of the mantelpiece, and fills his small apartment with the obvious pungent odours of a burnt-out hippy. The fireplace is blocked.
From high on the wall, Jimi Hendrix stares down disapprovingly.

‘Hey, Thomas, you're letting me down.’

He sits up, and puts his bare feet down on the worn carpet. The threads hurt his athlete's foot, as he stands up and faces the chipped mirror sitting behind the incense holder. One of his few remaining possessions. The incense holder, shaped like an old lamp that Aladdin might have robbed, was nearly empty. If he was going to try again, it would have to be soon.


Thomas knew he was in no shape for this trip. Fuck it, he hadn't been in shape since she left and that was four fucking years ago. Back to her lesbian fucking witches coven, or sumthin.
At least the tabloid horoscope was good.
Change will come your way. Be open to advice given in good faith. Oh, and if you intend to have your soul ripped apart on the astral plane, today
is also a good day. Mind how you go.

The sink is full of dirty dishes which threaten to force yet another new species of disease onto this already over populated planet. Cleaning them would be unthinkable so he forgoes his afternoon coffee. If he could see beyond the houses out back, he would know they were coming. But the endless rows of red bricks obscure any view, and since the only window is almost as dirty as his crockery, there wouldn't be much of a view. All irrelevant anyway, since he already knew that they would reach him soon. No doubt they were closing in. One house at a time, one door at a time.

Excuse me miss, there has been a report of a broken...Sorry to bother you sir, but I'm from the Utilities company…

Whatever bullshit's necessary. And, of course, the people believe what they're told.
He could feel them coming. Thomas, may be a fuck-up indeed, a burnt-out hippy, but he was a master, and the drugs may have even helped. He could feel them as sure as he could feel the threads on the worn carpet cutting into his rotten feet.

He rubs the two day stubble while staring at his face in the mirror. Quit fucking whining Man. You're a fucking Martyr and you know it, so let's fucking do it. He picks up the incense holder and turns his back on the mirror to face Jimi.

"Guess it's just you and me, pal".

While sitting down cross-legged on the old carpet, he places the holder in front of him, and stokes the remaining pieces. They should last at least an hour.

When traveling across any dimension, the biggest problem is getting back. Back in the days he would have used his stereo, blasting out voodoo chile or some such. But these days, the waves are full of audio and one could easily get distracted, or lost. Few, however, use smell, which is hardly surprising when you consider the toxins that the inhabitants are pumping into every plane. No dimension is now free of the pollutants that foul our fucked up home.
Once, when Thomas' stereo had packed in on one of his many flights in those days - batteries dead, or whatever. What should have been disastrous, even fatal, proved not to be, once he found that he could still smell his way back to his apartment.

In fact, the incense proved to be way more reliable. Anyway, he didn't have his stereo any more. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he contemplated the journey…
What's the next scene for Thomas?

Dietrich stroked his beard with his thumb; his forefinger rested on the arch of his lip. He sat in the back seat staring absently out the window. Parked outside the main entrance of the hospital, heedless of any warnings to do otherwise. Across and down the street, he could see two of his men - Jehovah witnesses - as they moved from house to house, repeating the process that two utilities men had done not two hours previous. It was only a matter of time. All the signs indicated that he would find Thomas and kill him. He would be promoted and he would be one step closer.

Dietrich was calm. Not the excitement restrained or disciplined that might be expected of one who waited, lifetimes, and whose time was at hand. But the gentle stoic calm of indifference, of a man who travels his path with the certainty that each night will bring with it a new day, and each day will pass as the Gods have ordained. He must fulfill what has been ordered of him. There is no excitement or disappointment when there are no surprises, when all is certain.

Dey be messin wiv our DNA now, dey be messin wiv our DNA since we was monkeys. Who d'ya think Apolla and Zeuz and Jupitor and God and Yahweh be? Dey be alaeens man, Dey be comin’ to our planet screwin’ our women since we was apes and they made hybrds, and mintatours, and hobbits and Medusas and Griffons and all kindsa crazy stuff . But they also made  Jason and Einstein and turned de apes into Man dat he’is now. Why? I dunno dat. Because Dey can. It's a big lonely universe. Fuck no it's a helluva lonely multiverse. So if it's gonna take you a billion years to harvest some friends.

What else ya gonna do?

We saw little mice-like creatures scurrying across the forest floor. Tall white beings, thin limbs with glowing skin. Beside each a cat with fur that shifted in color. The sky grew dark. A woman stepped forward , an apple in one hand an apple branch in the other. A ball of thread was tied to the apple branch which unravelled as it fell to the ground and rolled gently backwards.

Behind her stood the gates to the Otherworld. The ball af thread continued to unravel as it made its way down past the gates and down the steps  into the darkness.


He looked at the cube on his lap, a mixture of old world magick, and new world state-of-the-art technologies humming gently as it endlessly ran through millions of permutations. What if what if what if. Gently influencing as it observed like the beat of a butterfly's wings. Always the box reminded him.

He put the cube in his pocket, flipped open the computer terminal built into the back of the passenger seat, and keyed in his personal code whist a small lens above the screen scanned his retina. He logged onto GrandPa, and from there, invisibly passed through the CIA, Interpols and Europol Mainframes, before returning to GrandPa. Nothing stirring. Not unusual though. Well within the realms of prediction. He still had another 48 hours.

Bill Hamilton was a solitary man, and he saw everything through the lens of Darwin's theory of evolution.  An English evolutionary biologist, widely recognised as one of the most significant evolutionary theorists of the 20th century.

I mean when you think about it , there is nothing more important yet ultimately meaninglessness in the question:  Is there free will?

Is altruism free will? Let’s take God right out of the equation. That’s it. Just rip her out.
What have we got?
We’ve got some ants that will give up their live for the queen. And some people will give up their life for other people.



There’s always a pattern, feeding back in on itself.

Look for the pattern.

I stand in waterloo station for hours watching the people hurry about me like ants.

The ant is not the unit of life, the hive is.

Then the human is not the unit, society is. No, not society, the gene. The gene gets passed from generation to generation like the immortal soul. And God jumps right back in uninvited.

Dawkins would have a fit.

Humans were machines that were only important for carrying genes, and that it made sense for a gene to sacrifice a human if it meant that another copy of the gene elsewhere would prosper.

The sleepers didn't mind killing each other. It was no more pointless than sleeping.

“Cu Chulainn was a warrior of the Uluid” said diarmuid as if that cleared something up. “In Ulster.” he confirmed.
Oh I answered so was he crazy? mood swings?

“I guess that might be accurate. It was said on one hand he was extreme, a battle-fury so intense that it terrified even his family, friends and fellow warriors?

“And on the other hand?” added Gurgeh.

“ a torpor with vivid, prophetic dreams in which he languished for a year.” answered Diarmuid
“It strikes me that aspects of both of these states, said Gurgeh  “as described in the tales, resemble the effects of ingesting Amanita muscaria, the psychoactive mushroom with a bright red cap and white "speckles" also known as the fly-agaric.”


In the Irish general election of December 1918, the Republican Sinn Féin Party, won a landslide victory. On 21 January 1919, the Sinn Féin MPs, who had refused to take their seats in the House of Commons, met at the official residence of the Lord Mayor of Dublin, convened a nationalist parliament called Dáil Éireann, declared independence from the United Kingdom, and voted to depose George V as King of Ireland.

On the same day, the 3rd Tipperary Brigade of the paramilitary Irish Volunteers ambushed a Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC) convoy at Soloheadbeg and fatally shot Constables James McDonnell and Patrick O'Connell. The two Constables' deaths were locally regarded as murder and were denounced from local Roman Catholic pulpits. The Dail which had not authorized the ambush, was equally outraged by it. The Executive of the Irish Volunteers was also sickened and "the Soloheadbeg Gang" were ostracized throughout the conflict that followed. Even so, the Soloheadbeg ambush is still regarded as the first engagement of the Irish War of Independence.First act of War


“I asked for a burger without the meat and a Quarter Pounder™ without ketchup or mayonnaise. You've given me two Quarter Pounders™ both with mayonnaise and ketchup.” Rose dropped her shoulders, dejected. “I don't eat meat, and my son is allergic to mayonnaise.”

“ problem miss, I'll just scrape it off.”

“No you won't son. Please just make me another burger.”

“I'm sorry m'am we're closed.” And don't call me son.

“You were not closed when I paid for my food, now please give me what I've ordered. It's been a long day, and I want to go home.” And stop calling me ma'am. I'm not your ma'am in case you didn't notice. I'm black and you are white.

“I'm sorry ma'am. I can give you your money back, but we're closed. I've turned off all the appliances. If you could please move on, you are blocking a car trying to leave.”

Roisin said nothing. She stared at young Ronald.

"Ma'am, if you don't move, I'll be forced to call the police.”

“I will not be moved.”

He takes out his mobile phone and begins dialing.

"All of our operators are currently unavailable...
your call IS important to us...
For emergencies please press the hash symbol..."

The what symbol? Hashish? WTF?

Ronald turns to one of the other staff, who is busy mopping the floor. Scuzzphut is playing on the radio.

“What's the hash symbol?”

"The one that looks like a game of noughts and crosses...”


He presses the hash symbol. "The number you have dialed is no longer..."

“Oh, fuck it. Listen miss,” he pauses. “Look ma'am, that's a police car pulling in, you really best leave if you don't want trouble.”

I will not be moved.

A moment later Rose is staring into the eyes of one hard-nosed cop. Shaken, she nonetheless puts on a brave face and stands her ground. One last stand.

“Officer, I'm not trying to cause mischief. I payed for my food and he made the mistakes, not me. Now he says he's closed.”

“Huh?” Hardnose looked puzzled. “Closed?”

He stoops to peer inside. Two boys; one sweeping, one messing with his cell phone.

“Hey boy, come here.”

Ronald smiles triumphantly, and moves over to the glass window.

“Yes, officer?”

“You gave this woman her money back?”

“Yessir, that's it there on the counter. She won't take it.”

“Boy, get her her food. Now.”

“But sir, we're closed. All the machines are off.”

"Not now you're not. Now turn em machines back on. Don't worry boy they'll still be hot.”

He smiled at Rose while he hoisted his gunbelt and fixed his sagging pants.


“And boy, put on a couple of burgers for me while you're at it.”


Rose smiled at Hardnose.Recursive Cafe


The West’s establishment credibility is dying, along with it’s influence, both the rest of the world and its’ own young and poor and all those that make up three 99%

The frenetic pace of online media makes even the most recent events feel distant, like ancient history.

Failure after failure , they grow exponentially like an anti-singularity, the total absence of intelligence artificial or otherwise.

At the beginning of the new millennium , U.S. and British elites joined together to advocate one of the most immoral aggressive wars in decades: the destruction of Iraq.

Meanwhile a wave of spontaneous revolutions swept through Asia and Europe. Coordinated only by the internet, nobody seemed to be in overall charge, and no overall aims except self-determination and freedom were apparent.

This seemed to justify the beliefs of the computer utopian social media revolutions.

However, the freedom from these revolutions in fact lasted for only a short time. compare them with the hippie communes, all of which had broken up within three years at the most, by "the very thing that was supposed to have been banished: power."

Aggressive members of the group began to bully the weaker ones, who were unable to band together in their own defence because formal power structures had been prohibited by the commune's rules, and even intervention against bullying by benevolent individuals was discouraged.

It has become apparent that while the self-organising network is good at organising change, it is much less good at what comes next; networks leave people helpless in the face of people already in power in the world.

In 2008, their economic worldview and unrestrained corruption precipitated a global economic crisis that literally caused, and is still causing, billions of people to suffer — in response, they quickly protected the plutocrats who caused the crisis while leaving the victimized masses to cope with the generational fallout.

Even now, Western elites continue to proselytize markets and impose free trade and globalization without the slightest concern for the vast inequality and destruction of economic security those policies generate.

In 2011, NATO bombed Libya by pretending it was motivated by humanitarianism, only to ignore that country once the fun military triumph was celebrated, thus leaving a vacuum of anarchy and militia rule for years that spread instability throughout the region and fueled the refugee crisis.

Pope looked at MoonGirl, “The U.S. and its European allies continue to invade, occupy, and bomb predominantly Muslim countries while propping up their most brutal tyrants.”

He sat in the Great Throne. “You look good up there” sid his Mate.
“And then what?”

“Then you take the City said MoonGirl, You could unite the Cities maybe even team up with Texas”

“First, european cities must break any allegiance with The remaining United States. We will show support for thoses that seceded,m especially Texas.” said The Young Pope

“For too long they feign befuddlement about why anyone would want to attack them back, justifying erosions of basic liberties and more bombing campaigns and ratcheting up fear levels each time someone does. “

“The brutal rise of ORCS across Europe, Africa and Asia were the direct results  of the West’s stupidity and military actions as they  continue to divert massive resources into military weaponry and prisons for their citizens, enriching the most powerful factions in the process, all while imposing harsh austerity on already suffering masses.”

The one percent are making deals with demons art the expense of those who have no say.

Western elites thrive while everyone else is fucked.

These are not random, isolated mistakes. They are the byproduct of fundamental cultural pathologies within Western elite circles — a deep rot. Why should institutions that have repeatedly authored such travesties, and spread such misery, continue to command respect and credibility? They shouldn’t, and they’re not.

“Given both the scope and depth of this distrust , it’s clear that we’re in the midst of something far grander and more perilous than just a crisis of government or a crisis of capitalism. We are in the midst of a broad and devastating crisis of authority.”

It’s natural — and inevitable — that malignant figures will try to exploit this vacuum of authority. All sorts of demagogues and extremists will try to redirect mass anger for their own ends. Revolts against corrupt elite institutions can usher in reform and progress, but they can also create a space for the ugliest tribal impulses: xenophobia, authoritarianism, racism, fascism.

One sees all of that, both good and bad, manifesting in the anti-establishment movements throughout the U.S., Europe, and the U.K. — including Brexit. All of this can be invigorating, or promising, or destabilizing, or dangerous: most likely a combination of all that.

The solution is not to subserviently cling to corrupt elite institutions out of fear of the alternatives. It is, instead, to help bury those institutions and their elite mavens and then fight for superior replacements.

the challenge is “directing the frustration, anger, and alienation we all feel into building a trans-ideological coalition that can actually dislodge the power of the post-meritocratic elite. One that marshals insurrectionist sentiment without succumbing to nihilism and manic, paranoid distrust.”

Corrupt elites always try to persuade people to continue to submit to their dominance in exchange for protection from forces that are even worse.

That’s their game.

But at some point, they themselves, and their prevailing order, become so destructive, so deceitful, so toxic, that their victims are willing to gamble that the alternatives will not be worse, or at least, they decide to embrace the satisfaction of spitting in the faces of those who have displayed nothing but contempt and condescension for them.

There is no single, unifying explanation for Brexit, Trumpism, or the growing extremism of various stripes throughout the West, but this sense of angry impotence — an inability to see any option other than smashing those responsible for their plight — is undoubtedly a major factor. As Bevins put it, supporters of Trump, Brexit, and other anti-establishment movements “are motivated not so much by whether they think the projects will actually work, but more by their desire to say FUCK YOU” to those they believe (with very good reason) have failed them.

“Slowly, one by one, I have infiltrated the layers of secrecy surrounding the Group. I was not alone.”

Their names must remain confidential.

Whatever its early mission, the Group is now “a shadow world government.

In short, Bilderbergers want to supplant individual nation-state sovereignty with an all-powerful , corporate controlled, global government and backed up by with Police and Military enforcement.
The Black Panther Party for Self-Defense was a revolutionary black nationalist and socialist organization active in the United States from 1966 until 1982, with its only international chapter operating in Algeria from 1969 until 1972.

The Pink Panthers were a nationalist Lesbian Gay Transgender militant and nationalistic organisation active worldwide from 1968 to 2016.

The Black and Pink Striped Disco Panther Party was an ultra right wing black and Lesbian Gay and Transgender underground organisation whose agenda was to infiltrate religious organisations and cause chaos during book voting campaigns and other important historical fact finding and census initiatives.


King Donald Mc Muffin produced and directed in a new comic hero musical show written by  representatives of Bonsanto, a grotesque hybrid that soon led to the producers suicide. Turn the fucking thing off.

After escaping from prison in 1970, Leary found refuge in Algeria with the Panthers’ Eldridge Cleaver, who was himself on the run for attempted murder.  But rather than receiving Leary as a kindred spirit—and displeased with his drug-touting ways—Eldridge kidnapped Tim and his wife, Rosemary Woodruff…er, placed them under “revolutionary arrest.”  Eldridge eventually freed the pair, but, you can still get a sense of their uneasy Algerian alliance.

Just like Atlantis the greatest of the early cities, Ireland is 3,000 stadia long, 2,000 stadia wide, and widest over the middle. They both feature a central plain that is open to the sea, but fringed by mountains. No other island on earth even comes close to this description.

“It’s simply not possible to write satire these days.”

“The problem with writing pulp fiction,” said El Rob, “is you always end up starting a new religion. I can’t help it. I must be on my third by now”. El Rob was being a real prick since he signed up Bono, Dana,Tom Cruise and the author of ‘Propeller One-Way Night Coach, A Fable for All Ages’ (of whom El Rob was secretly jealous of such a wonderful title).


They would have you believe the first civilisations emerged in the valleys of Mesopotamia around 3000 BC.

But what if that were not true.
THere’s little doubt , agriculture led to a rise in human population and the inevitable dawn of the City.

But what if this was earlier, a lot earlier.

Western Civilization grew from the foundations built by these Asian and African cities.

People organised states and solved the problems as they moved from tribe to empire.

The first conference was held at the Hotel de Bilderberg in Oosterbeek, Netherlands, from 29 to 31 May 1954
They called themselves the Bilderberg Group with a membership representing a who’s who of world power elites, mostly from America, Canada, and Western Europe with familiar names like
David Rockefeller,
Henry Kissinger,
Bill Clinton,
Gordon Brown,
Angela Merkel,
Alan Greenspan,
Ben Bernanke,
Larry Summers,
Tim Geithner,
Lloyd Blankfein,
George Soros,
Donald Rumsfeld,
Rupert Murdoch, other heads of state, influential senators, congressmen and parliamentarians, Pentagon and NATO brass, members of European royalty, selected media figures, and invited others – some quietly by some accounts like Barack Obama and many of his top officials.

Surveillance is the monitoring of the behavior, activities, or other changing information, usually of people for the purpose of influencing, managing, directing, or protecting them.[2] This can include observation from a distance by means of electronic equipment (such as CCTV cameras), or interception of electronically transmitted information (such as Internet traffic or phone calls); and it can include simple, relatively no- or low-technology methods such as human intelligence agents and postal interception. The word surveillance comes from a French phrase for "watching over" ("sur" means "from above" and "veiller" means "to watch").