Monday, September 26, 2011

With the lightest touch imaginable, The stars dance to her naive gravity


There is nothing I can ask you. And nothing you can tell me. Not without we were face to face, and then I could only kiss you. And lose myself of course.

My fall will be my own. Certainly you will push me. Cruel and beatific as I, like some flightless rail, panic and wonder at all those before me winged by evolution. Or were they? How the fuck did they do that?

The bottom is nowhere in sight. This fall is to be epic. Makes the Holy Grail look like a comedy. Look at that mad creature, flailing about - flip flap flop. You thrill at the prospect.


A gold top mushroom at my feet. You guide me as I trip. The ageing neophyte and the neonate sage. Hold my hand. As I fall into the abyss.

The only thing that's real is 15,000 kilometres. A flick of your wrist, and my face wreathed in smiles. Time and space are nothing. Golden eyes gleam at me through the smoke that's left behind.

It's the devil. Hold still while I paint horns on you. Is this a mirror I see before me? I kill the Medusa and hear laughter. Silly boy, you were looking at yourself.


Who are you? Don't you know I'm nobody? And that none of this is real? Not you, not me? I really am nobody - a ghost in a crowded street. Falling, unnoticed. Is that the gutter? Oh, I hope so. Here's to seeing stars.

Cairo, Egypt: Police were called when a man attempted to attack the Sphinx with a stick. Fortunately no harm was done as the man knocked himself unconscious with the first blow. Attending paramedics laughed their arses off.

Hey Gorgeous. I'm digging an inside-out mountain. Are you impressed? Okay, not yet, sure - so far I only have half a hole. But one day...


One day, if I try very hard I know I'll disappoint you! Huzzah! The Gods are triumphant! The possible achieved. You are too much like me to be my son. Okay, but which was which?

A puzzle I never asked for. An answer I'll never understand. What was the question again? Exactly. Tantalus smiled.

Goddess I beseech you: kill me or make me you. Smash my brains to pieces and rearrange them as you will. God help me if I have to do it myself. I can't even find my head.


Dumbstruck. Too bedazzled by the stars. So effortless.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

A Dear John Letter


Following the stoush in the previous comments I thought it might be enlightening to see what led to it and what it all means. I expect that there are people out there who will view the whole thing as the paranoid ravings of a madman, not to mention a flagrant disregard for all rules of common decency. But that's alright - I really don't care. I'm nobody and you can kill if him you like. One day I'll no longer be here and what will it matter?

Furthermore I should also add that whilst the following is intended primarily for those of us who are anti-death cult, it will also effectively function as a debrief for spooks keen to avoid the missteps that would otherwise give them away as cointelpro. But there's nowt to be done for that and we'll just have to carry on regardless.

First up: Statcounter. For those who don't know, statcounter is a website, one of many, that one can plug one's blog into and be given details of who hits what and when. Only I can access my statcounter of course - all you get is a single number at the bottom of this page's right hand column (which at time of writing stands at 241,579).

I can understand certain people might view this with a degree of alarm. All I can say is, better you know about it than not, what with every site you go to recording details much like the ones I shall lay out here. The only difference between them and me is that I tell you about it.

Confession time: I'm a statcounter junkie. I find it beyond fascinating. But by the same token it's also a lot like trawling through shit looking for pearls. Here are some pearls I've saved with an eye to one day putting them up here:



Ah, yes. Heartwarming and good clean fun. And the DHS! The US taxpayer's dollars at work. But as if any of us are surprised. And whilst I doubt that that fellow was looking for an image of a cum-spattered Australian Prime Minister, that's what he got, ha ha.

Along those lines, I find myself fascinated by google drop-ins. God knows this blog is perversely desultory (or is that desultorily perverse? Perhaps the latter. I shan't say 'eclectic' since that would be putting on airs), so inevitably most arrivals from google, searching say for ten plagues of passover, will find themselves in amongst waaay more information than they wanted.

But for those of you who've read this far and are wondering what I make of you, would you be disappointed if I said, nothing at all? Approximately half of all hits to this blog look like this:


They read what's on the front page and don't bother with the comments and nor do they click any images or links. They just want the text and they're off. And fair enough. I invariably do the same myself as I wander around the net. And who is that person in London? Hell if I know. Not only do I have no idea, I really don't care. Even if I did, I have no means of finding out anything beyond what you see there. WYSIWYG.

The other half of my hits are best exemplified by the following two grabs:



I like these people, whoever they are. They check out a couple of images and links and otherwise spend a bit of time. Hats off. I invariably do the same myself as I wander around the net. The only thing I know about them (that I don't know about the preceding individual) is how long they spent here. A single hit gives me no idea whether someone stayed for a second or an hour. Two hits or more and I can take a guess. It has to be a guess on account of the possibility of whoever it was having left their computer to make a coffee or somesuch. And if anyone can recognise themselves in any of the preceding three, consider me impressed. The service provider I'm currently availing myself of seems to shift its virtual location so often I can't even recognise myself. Ha!

But then again, I'm not looking neither. All of the three preceding are of no interest to me at all. I grabbed them because they are to statcounter hits what John is to men's names. They're merely more of the same that I have to plough through in my search for attention grabbers like the DHS, Fort Huachuca, The House of Commons, the Whitehouse, and The Office of the President of the United States. I've had hits from all of those by the way, with the last one involving someone googling the McMartin scandal curiously enough. And sure, it could be an intern taking a break from blowjob duty but either way a hit is a hit and bragging rights ensue.

After several years of this one becomes inured to the humdrum. But one also becomes attuned to oddities, things that not only stick out like the proverbial but have you wondering at the curious logic that drives them. Like the individual in Seattle, Washington who hits the same page dating from January 2010 up to five times a day, day in, day out. What the hell is that? What's the point of hitting a page that's never going to update? A complete stumper.

---

And then there's John Friend of San Diego who, if he was to tell you one single thing about himself it's that there were no planes at 911. Did he mention that there were no planes? Because there were no planes at 911. It's interesting that, how there were no planes. Everyone talks about 911 but there were no planes there. Oh! Just remembered! There were no planes at 911! Ha ha ha, what a laugh, no planes at 911, he says.


Does anyone play that silly game Who would you invite to your ideal dinner party? I do. I'd have my faves from QI, Bill Bailey, Alan Davies, and Rich Hall, Aangirfan's schoolgirls, David Bowie, P2P, Hugo Chavez, English John, and um... Vincent Cassel! Like I'd fail to invite myself to my own party? No doubt this party might be a bit stilted at first but once the Stoly started to flow we'd hit full gear. Stories! Jokes! Smutty double entendres! Laugh! What a swell party we'd have! Right up until fucking John Friend walks in to tell us there were no planes at 911. Shit! And we were having such a good time!

---

John sure enough, has charted his own weird course through statcounter. Truth be known, on its own it would have been unremarkable. However, when you lay it side by side with what he's saying and doing in the blog, all sorts of things become clear.


I first noticed him by way of an arrival via direct link from a Mr. Friend's Blog. Hmm... curious. And sure it sounded like some creepy paedophile thing, but whatever, I go check it out. As a chap not often linked to (astounding given that I'm easily the best writer since William McGonagall) I always check such things out and then keep an eye on it to see how much traffic it generates. At time of writing: nada - just that single solitary hit. Would anyone blame me if I was to declare that that was merely John checking to see if his link worked?

So I visit his site and instantly notice he's also linked to my haiku blog. Double curious. Not a single arrival from there which means he didn't even bother checking the link. Doubtless he didn't actually care, what with never having written a haiku (that being the whole point of the place). And this after a single visit - one hit, no haiku, but he likes it enough to link to it. Sure. But let's not jump the gun and start using the word 'glad-handing' yet. We'll save it for later.

Like the haiku blog, John loved the church after his very first visit. He liked it so much he didn't need to look around, hang out in the comments, click any links, nothing. A blink was all it took and he was sold! Love at first sight - "Let's not fool around baby, let's just go to Vegas and get married!" - and he promptly pledged his troth with a link. Wow. Talk about swept off my feet! Or not. Probably not actually, now that I think about it.


On the same day, he pops into the comments for Pedophocracy Disinfo 102 which I loosely paraphrase thus -
1) Dropped Aangirfan's name, said he loved my blog.

2) Made a single para almost-on-topic comment about the twenty year old Franklin Scandal and condemns paedophiles to hell. *For those who don't know the Franklin scandal is the only scandal to have made the front page of any major US daily, albeit not in connection to any other scandal. It's also the only scandal that Mike Rivero is prepared to mention on his blog without condemnation (as he does with the McMartin scandal). And it's also the scandal which I have previously declared to be the limited hang-out fall-back position for pedophocracy disinfo spooks. Not that I'm accusing John of that, or anything. Oh, nearly forgot: John was a kid in Nebraska at the precise time Franklin was going down and associated with many of the same people and organisations that were involved. Not that he had any idea at the time of course.

3) Writes nine paras detailing how there were no planes on 911.

4) Once more tells me I am great.

5) Reappears with a second comment asking for my insight into whether Paul McCartney really is dead. No seriously, he did. Also writes 'LOL' for the third time, not that that makes me grit my teeth or anything.
John's penultimate misstep came when he arrived at the last piece wherein I discussed his favourite topic in the world. Unlike the curious people at Kenny's who checked out his no-plane links, and unlike the average 'interested' punters above, John was filled with an insatiable incuriosity and completely failed to click on a single link, pic, or movie. His utter lack of desire to check out my blog, which he professed to like so much, was here perfectly replicated by his complete uninterest in checking out an article pretty much written for him. It's all he can talk about but really, he just ain't interested. Go figure.


Did somebody says 'figures'? What with yours truly being a complete maths wizard, why don't we mathematically compare John Friend's curiosity in his professed field of interest with that of a standard punter. As we can see, as the standard punter's interest in a given topic increases, his curiosity charts a concordant rise. John Friend on the other hand follows a curve of inverse proportion. Thus as his interest in a given topic hits maximum his curiosity scrapes zero. Like that makes any sense at all. Otherwise, Descartes, eat your heart out!

As I said in the comments there, the only time I've encountered such extraordinary incuriosity in the face of professed interest is with blank-eyed zionists and pedophocracy disinfo scum. It ain't great company to be in, is it? And John's response? He did click some links! What's that John, fingers crossed and a quickly muttered, 'he durst not give me the lie direct.' Ha ha ha ha - durst I not? Bullshit. I fucking durst.


Dear oh dear. So much for that. But John wasn't done yet. He still had one last nail to hammer into his own coffin. Never mind me having called him bullshit and telling him to fuck off, nor him saying he'd knock my teeth out (yeah, yeah, you and stevieb, the apple onion, and zionists too numerous to mention) the next day he... wait for it... came back pushing his piss-weak no-planes barrow and acting like nothing had ever happened.

Huh? I shake my head. Who the fuck does that? I can imagine all sorts of responses but that's just too weird for itself. Mate, do you even know how a normal person behaves?

---

Cointelpro exists. Cointelpro is not passive. It is aggressive. They do not sit at their computers playing the ghost surfer. They go out and they pile in. That's what cointelpro is. And not in any half-arsed way. Remember they are not passive. They will do their level best to become big wheels. They will clock up hours. They will dominate the discussion. They will be tireless and busy and full of enthusiasm. They will network and make links. They will be charming and complimentary and have their gladhanding down pat. Will they want to be your friend? Abso-fucking-lutely. Hell, they've studied the art of making people trust them. They have sincerity down pat. And they depend upon your credulity and unwillingness to think ill of people.

And if you think you're safe because you only get a thousand hits a day, go read up on all those peace activist groups who warranted a full-time infiltrator who would live and work amongst them for a year, and the group only had an effective membership of a couple dozen people. The internet and blogs are not going to get a free ride. If you frequent these circles you will encounter cointelpro. It's a dead certainty. The good news is they will give themselves away. And he did!

NB. Edited 22 September as noted in the comments

Sunday, September 18, 2011

911, No-Planes, and the arse-about meaning of If it Looks Wrong it is Wrong


911 was three events - WTC, Pentagon, and Shanksville. WTC was two events each differentiated by time but otherwise both resembling each other. Shanksville was two mutually exclusive events differentiated by location, neither resembling the other.

Germane aspects taken at face value (loosely in order of timeline occurrence)


WTC
- Numerous and sundry witnesses and footage of wide-body jets striking buildings, exploding, and leaving plane shaped holes. Extensive media coverage.
- Numerous and sundry witnesses and footage and seismic evidence of explosions leading to the unprecedented and complete destruction of three buildings involving the pulverisation of steel-reinforced concrete and the melting of both steel and concrete. No media coverage.


Pentagon
- Numerous witnesses of a wide-body jet striking the Pentagon. Extensive media coverage.
- No footage. No plane shaped hole. Scant debris and that inconsistent with a 100 tonne wide-body jet. No media coverage.


Shanksville location A
- Numerous and sundry witnesses and footage of a small hole in a field. Extensive media coverage.
- No witnesses or footage of a crash. No debris. No bodies. No fuel residue. No media coverage.
Shanksville location B
- Numerous and sundry witnesses (no footage) of a low-flying wide-body jet breaking up in mid-air, an explosion and mushroom cloud, a white chase plane, and plentiful debris scattered over a wide area. No media coverage.

Questioning of official narrative (in loose order of argumentative usefulness, ha ha)


Pentagon
This began with Thierry Meyssan who not unreasonably asked where the 100 tonne wide-body 757 had gone. Where was the debris and litter that accompanies every jet crash ever witnessed? Why was the hole in the face of the Pentagon so small and the damage so slight? These were reasonable questions that would have to prompt any thinking person to wonder if the story of a wide-body jet inflicting such damage was factual.

There were pieces of evidence to support this idea. Flight 77 was the only flight of the four to have its course plotted as a dotted line on all maps reconstructing the courses of the four planes, this on account of it 'having disappeared from the radar'. Wide-body passenger jets, transponders turned off or no, do not disappear from radar. Usually if a given flight disappears from radar the automatic assumption would be that it is thus no longer in the sky. Furthermore the black box allegedly recovered from the plane indicated an attack angle that experienced pilots declared impossible. In addition to this the FBI confiscated all CCTV video footage of the attack and released nothing until three years later. The release consisted of two near-identical clips neither of which showed a plane of any sort.


Counter to Meyssan's question was the evidence offered by numerous witnesses some of whom saw nothing at all (and wondered at it) and some (almost entirely apparatchiks of the military industrial complex) who were adamant they'd seen precisely the plane the government had declared had been there.

It should be kept in mind that in spite of the fact that the government sat on the two clips for over a year, and in spite of obviousness of video fakery being in their best interest, it's clear that they either failed to insert any digital element into either of the clips, or they did so very badly, ie. in a fashion that it wouldn't convince anyone of anything.


Shanksville
Here too, no fakery was ever proffered. Admittedly it would've been a little bit more difficult than the photoshopping of a single frame of the Pentagon video, but not much. If I were a death cult FX guy, I'd have gone to a nearby recognisable shanksville location (after the event, sure enough), swung a simple handicam up to an empty sky as if following a streaking plane and followed the imaginary plane down to the horizon right next to the stated location. I'd then put the footage into the laptop, track in an off-the-shelf 3D model of a 757, quick textures, lighting, render with motion blur, and load to youtube. Fast, simple, cheap, 1 all-nighter = 2 days @ $500 a day (cash money), $1000 thanks very much. But as we all know, no such thing happened.


WTC
The events we saw in New York prompted many questions (mostly around buildings doing a vertical drop into their basements at free-fall speed) but in regards to planes, the first and most obvious question centred on how men who couldn't fly cessnas could successfully steer wide-body passenger jets travelling at over 700 km/h into targets 100m wide.

Extraordinarily, it turns out that the dual-Israeli financial comptroller of the Pentagon, one Dov Zakheim, who'd the day before 9/11 announced that 2.3 trillion dollars of the Pentagon's money had vanished, also happened to own a company, System Planning Corporation, that specialised in the remote control of aircraft. Further, the remote control of jet aircraft was not any kind of new science but had been perfected in the early 60's.


Given the technological advances that have taken place since then, with cruise missiles capable of following roads, turning at intersections, and hitting targets with a 5m accuracy, the guiding of a passenger jet into a 100m wide building becomes the simplest thing imaginable. Were confirmation needed, many examples of passenger planes being accurately remoted-control crashed into small targets can be found on youtube.

Regardless, many people were troubled by what they considered to be faults and errors in much of the footage of the planes that day. The first consisted of a discussion of pods. Does everyone remember that? Where is it now? Next up was talk of holograms. This too was abandoned, probably on account of the perfect stupidness of the whole idea. Finally we've arrived at a workable proposition to explain the undeniable fakery in the footage: there were no planes, or holograms, or any other thing in the sky at any time in New York and everything we saw on TV was digitally inserted, either in real time or as a post event. And all the eye-witnesses were either bullshit artists, à la the Pentagon, or mistaken.

Wait, let's rewind to the beg-the-question: ie. that the various youtube shots we all saw, displayed evidence of 'undeniable fakery'. I couldn't be fagged tearing apart all of them. I'll just do one and see if that doesn't say something about every other one. Have a look at this astounding example of obvious fake footage -


What a give-away! Such obvious fakery!

Groan. What happened to the assertion that the US military skunkworks magicians are capable of making holograms so perfect that they could be projected into clear blue sky and fool cameras, witnesses, everyone? Now they seem to be the very opposite of that. Now they seem incapable of doing something so simple that if it had been my job I'd have palmed it off to the work-experience boy and expected him to finish it before lunch. I can't tell you how basic this is as a CG shot. Something like this would qualify as tutorial 1, lesson 1, and the only way you could fuck it up is if someone hit you over the head with a pickaxe handle half way through. But somehow the vaunted US military did precisely that. Go figure. (Mind you, they do groove on violence. Perhaps they actually were beating each other with pickaxe handles and that's why it looks so bad?)

Enough of that, just go play that youtube thing again but this time don't look at the where the magician is pointing. Instead look at the top left hand side of the image. See the aerial / antenna thing at the top of the building? Watch it as the foreground leaves move backwards and forwards in front of it. And wait for the slo-mo. Wait for it! There did you see it? Holy shit! They've faked that too!


Yeah, right. Does everyone get it yet? You're looking at compression. Do we need me to explain that? Surely not. Let's just say nothing gets more compressed than youtube images. They get compressed to one step shy of complete incomprehensibility. Or beyond, as is the case here.

But the thing is, we don't even need compression. Every ad, every TV show, and every movie gets put into post because raw footage looks like shit. If I had a buck for every shot that had us remarking, 'Gee that looks weird doesn't it?' I'd have enough money to get that penis shortening surgery I so badly need. As is, I'll just have to struggle on I guess. Never mind.

The thing is, footage gets put into post precisely to clean this sort of shit up. Or to put it another way: to make it believable. And yet for the no-planers this raison d'etre paradigm is turned on its head. For them, all these artefact-laden shots are proof that they have been put into post, when the truth is, it's proof that they haven't.

How about this guy?


How's that for logic, eh?

- I can fake footage of a plane crashing into a building
- 9/11 has footage of a plane crashing into a building
- Therefore the 9/11 footage is fake

God help us. That's what Aristotle would have called a 'syllogistic fallacy'. Or to put it another way, 'crap'. It's proof of nothing beyond that silly boy's desire to show off.

But forget the little pictures. We'll be here all day otherwise. Let's gun for the big picture. This was best encapsulated by what I learned in University, year one, product design, age seventeen. The golden rule of rendering was If it looks wrong, it is wrong. And sure we were told this to stop us whinging that we didn't deserve the lecturer's criticisms because "technically it's correct". No one gave a shit. If it looked wrong, it was wrong. But forget us as spotty youths making silly arguments - it's not the output of this rule that counts, but the input. Which is to say, why did this rule exist? It existed because this sort of shit happens all the time. It's beyond common. Technically correct images can and do look wrong. All the way through college. All the way through prop and model-making. All the way through CG.


Inversely, I could take you through dozens of shots I've worked on, that would look completely normal to you but were in fact no such thing, each of them being so bent out of shape that they made no sense from any other angle. If I swung the camera around and showed you the side view you'd have been amazed at how abortionate it all looked. And the reason I had to cheat that thing was because when we did it the first time (correctly) it looked wrong. Do we get it?

In every discussion about 9/11 video fakery it's always the same - I dutifully follow the links to the examples cited and never have I found anything that impressed. All of it was the same old shit that I'd seen my entire working life and was, as far as I was concerned, the kind of thing you put into post in order to be fixed. To declare that these not-cleaned-up images were the result of fixing demonstrates an arse-about understanding of the logic of the whole process. Not to mention an eat-your-cake-and-have-it-too argument whereby the light-years-ahead, scifi-wunderkind Pentagon suddenly become hapless amateurs that couldn't organise a shitfight in a pigsty.


And this same inverse logic follows the no-plane argument from the micro to the macro. Back to me as post production supervisor: as supervisor it was my job to decide, for any given shot, what we do for real (in-camera) and what we do as CG. In-camera (no, not the latin meaning) is always preferable. It's cheaper, quicker, and the client couldn't endlessly fuck with it like he could with CG (which is to say, ruin our lives).

So! I'm in a production meeting and the brief says we need to put two planes into the twin towers and have them come down. Obviously you'd do that in post because it's not like we can use real planes and real buildings. Except, that we can. We have an unlimited budget! We can do any fucking thing we like! We're the Death Cult! Not only do we have no compunction about mass fatalities but as far as we're concerned, the more dead the better. We fucking love it.

But never mind that, just in terms of whether we go with CG or a real plane there's only one question. I turn to the RC guy -
"Can you guarantee that those planes will hit the building?"
"Mate, we've been doing it since the sixties. Have a look at these quicktimes. See that 707 nail that fucking camera? And that was in the sixties. And 707's are lumbering elephants compared to 757's and 767's. You've no idea. Think of cruise missiles. They can turn right at street corners, you know. And they're twenty years old. It's no problems, forget about it, accuracy under 5m."


Yeah, yeah, that's me being hyperbolical. Forget me. Why don't we just go to the only attempt by a no-planer to answer the question of why bother with CG when you could use real planes instead. ...impressed? No, me neither. Well, at least he tried. For comedic value why don't I paraphrase the four bullet points he gives as to why there's no way you'd use a real plane and would have to go with CG.

- what if it missed?
- what if it didn't go into the building?
- what if it missed and didn't go into the building?
- what if it missed and didn't go into the building?

And that's it is it? That's the best he could come up with as to why you'd reject forty year old technology in favour of some mad fucking idea no one has ever tried before? God spare me. It's a good thing there's no one asking the flip-side question: "So what happens when there's no planes and in the twenty minutes between the two strikes a bazillion people all grab their handicams and film a building that explodes for no apparent reason apart from air pressure? How's the FBI going to find all those fucking cameras and insert a plane in each of them?"

Back to the bullet points, it's this chap's opinion that the likelihood of the plane missing its target is unacceptably high. Cue the obvious question - Well is it or isn't it? So far it's just an assertion, something he just made up. Mind you he posts a little youtube clip to prove his point. Let's have a look at that. Blogger doesn't do animated gifs, so here's the key frame as a still. (You can see it moving at the above link).


Sure enough, it's the least accurate piece of footage of a 707 being crashed that he could find. In case anyone thinks that he might be onto something there, just think about what you're looking at. You're looking at a forty year old plane aiming at a 20m wide target and absolutely knocking the living shit out of it. It's easily accurate enough to nail a 100m wide skyscraper. And that's the best example of inaccuracy he's got is it? So much for what-if-it-missed. A pointy hat for that boy - go sit in the corner until you get some arguments that aren't crap.

And do we have to address the old 'what if it didn't go into the building' bit? I think the only sensible response to this is - What the fuck else is it going to do? Bounce off? Like a squash ball? Fuck that - you line up a 100 tonne jetliner travelling at 700 km/h and aim it at, hell... Ayer's Rock! and it's only going to do one thing and that's to pile-drive itself into oblivion. It'll have no hope at all.


As for 'no evidence of jet-liners' we all roll our eyes - it's just too desperate for words, isn't it?

Honestly, between a question that didn't need to be asked based on a shit reading of shit evidence, and a bullet-proof in-camera effect that perfectly fills the brief, what the fuck are we talking about this for? Not forgetting we're discussing a bunch of people who, when they really needed some fakery at the Pentagon and Shanksville, were utterly incapable of producing the goods. A single shot would have done it. But, nope! Not a sausage. And yet, somehow in New York, they knew where every camera was, took them, and inserted a CG plane into every bit of footage and no one said nothin' bout nothin'.

Man, I shake my head.

Now, go read this piece by Paul Craig Roberts. (Thank you Aangirfan) It's a helluva read, ain't it? Now ask yourself: what function does the no-planes meme serve within that discussion?

The answer isn't pretty is it?

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Pedophocracy Disinfo 102 - A Simple Easy Trap for Simple Easy Paedophiles

It's been a while but let's do it. But first a recap -


Occult power in this world consists of two pillars and each has their own disinfo campaign. Occult means hidden and were it not hidden, the death cult would come crashing down. To this end, the price of doing business is control of the media. That's why we have a bloc-media every organ of which sings from the same songbook. Certainly this is used to push memes that will herd us in the desired direction of war, fascism, and the new world order. But even more crucial than this is the disappearing of all those other memes that would otherwise have mobs in the street setting fire to public buildings and hauling the deserving, by way of lamp-posts and rope, as close to heaven as they're ever going to get.

The first and most powerful of these pillars is the Jewish, zionist, banking establishment. Subservient to this, but still untouchably powerful is the satanist, paedophile, mind-control cercle. The two memes that must be hidden, which is to say, completely absent from any public discussion are, a) the senselessness of usury and the private ownership of every nation's money supply and, b) the existence of mind-control as a real thing outside of Hollywood movies, and of satanism and paedophilia as anything other than the foolish obsessions of a disparate bunch of amateur losers.

If there are any Johnny-come-latelies out there snorting in derision at the idea of satanist paedophilia as a global organised power-trip, keep reading and see if we don't stretch your mind a little. If you want to catch up there's this, and this, and this. Those links will point you at Dave McGowan, Aangirfan, the ISGP, each of which in turn will lead you to any number of detailed and explicit exposés of the whole filthy enterprise. The main thing is - so huge are each of these black entities that otherwise large organisations like NATO, or Interpol, hell, even the CIA, are merely their servants. Don't roll your eyes, just go read.


Have we gotten rid of the wide-eyed newbies? Very good. Let's carry on.

The bloc-media is one thing and the internet is another. As it stands the net is not yet owned. They're working on it and I expect they'll get there eventually but it's easier said than done. In the meantime here on the net, hitherto deaf, dumb, and blind nobodies like yours truly are learning and in turn passing the word about topics that ordinarily demand, and get, a pitch black silence. But as things stand right now, the net represents an active threat to the death cult's ability to hide and specific tactics are called for to deal with it. For the purpose of the exercise we call this disinfo.

The disinfo programme of the bankers is very obvious. Hasbara is one of them, Megaphone is another, but really there's many and I doubt anyone here hasn't encountered some aspect of it. It's not like it's hard to miss. Jews are very noisy people who love nothing better than talking about themselves (invariably as victims) and they are as plain as a white ashkenazi face in a seething crowd of Semites.

The disinfo of the satanist paedophiles is a whole other story. Paedophiles cannot defend themselves. They cannot stick up for the rightness of paedophilia. Certainly they have tried, albeit with disastrous results. That link there will take you to Ralph Underwager's notorious Padika interview where, one assumes, he wanted to start the ball rolling on a meme that had as its end goal a society somehow comfortable with the idea of adults fucking kids. God knows what they were thinking of. Instead of a barrow to sell their ideas it became yet one more thing to be jammed into their bursting-at-the-seams, skeleton-laden closet.


And then there's the time-honoured chestnut of victimhood. And the more heinous the crime the more irresistible it is as a defence tactic. To this end a gang of ex-MKULTRA spook paedophiles created the False Memory Syndrome Foundation along with their tag-team partner, the Institute for Psychological Therapies. But without a holocaust behind it, the merest puff of air is all it takes to destroy the idea of paedophiles as victims. But that doesn't stop them - the FMSF and IPT still exist and still push their semen and blood-spattered cart full of their woe-is-me bullshit stories in the hope that those who've never heard of them will buy what they're selling. Believe it or not I bought their line, but only until I encountered Dave McGowan. Tragically (for the paedophiles that is) it only takes a single voice to smash their beyond-flimsy case to pieces.

In the face of such a woeful arsenal to wage their covert war, it's therefore necessary for the paedophile disinfo reps to function as a sort of inverse door-to-door campaign. This requires an army of individuals to act not as salesmen but as anti-salesmen. They are there to make sure you have never heard of their product. Sometimes this will involve them running a website in its entirety. If you want to see what this looks like, go check out the Sargeant's (sic) Inn, a website heavily devoted to Madeleine McCann. Oh that's interesting, I've linked to my place, but I can't to theirs, because it's gone. They don't even exist as a google cache. Wow. Anyway, at the Sargeant's Inn, fingers were pointed in every useless direction they could think of but mostly at the parents of course. And trans-national, organised paedophilia was not only nowhere to be seen but was actually dismissed as the mad ravings of crazy people. Dave McGowan? Never heard of him.

It's a shame the Sargeant's site is gone. It had been my intention to call them out. Or call him out that is. I suspect that the militarily-named Sargeants is in fact one bloke, the also militarily-named Blackwatch. Here he is in the standard black-bloc rig of hoody and sunglasses. Sure, why not? The least I could say about BW is that if he wasn't on the pedophocracy payroll he was an idiot missing out on free money. He was precisely the chap for their disinfo job description. He has If-you've-got-the-game-you-deserve-the-name written all over him. But no great loss that he's gone - there's no shortage of these fuckers and they're all as easy to take apart as each other. As we'll see...
The un-sargeants blog is the ever-mighty Caledonian collective, Aangirfan. The gang of schoolgirls there name names, make links, and otherwise lay bare the whole sordid edifice of filth that is the pedophocracy. What with statcounter numbers that make this blog look puny, it was inevitable that Aang would attract a disinfo effort. Sure enough, the abovementioned Blackwatch (posting as BW) did his level best to shepherd the discussion in the comments to sundry Aunt Sallies of his own choosing, each of course a worthless non-target. BW's problem such as it was, was that he had an identity, with that further confounded by being attached to a blog. Thus, his angles of attack were extremely limited. He could try to change the subject and point in other directions but, constrained by a requisite etiquette, it all came to nought.


Hmm... how to attack Aang?

What of the techniques of the infamous Stevieb that I discussed in earlier hit piece I did Pedophocracy Disinfo 101 and followed up with Two Disinfo Programmes Compared ? Unfortunately they work best at sites where everyone is in the dark about the pedophocracy and are easily spooked by the otherwise tired, old buzzwords of 'hysteria', 'witch-hunt', 'overzealous', 'hoax', 'debunked' etc. etc.

Time for a different technique at Aang's. And just lately we got another salutary lesson in how it's done. All it took was the simple expedient of anonymity. Thus cloaked, the disinfo merchant could attack-attack-attack and any topic would do. All of the attacks were worthless red herrings of course. But the point wasn't to invade and win. The point instead was twofold: at Aang's blog those in the comments, under the barrage of shit, would flee and find somewhere nicer to hang out; and then by taking the same shit-slinging tactics to Kenny's Sideshow (a deservingly popular site with numbers up there with Aang's) they would function to discourage the people there from giving Aang a try.


And what were these attacks? Like it bloody mattered! Anything would do. Gay something or other. Zio something or other. Censored something or other. If we wanted to sum it up in one word it would have to be 'wedge' as in 'wedge issues'. Thus everyone has to pick sides on the otherwise who-cares topic, yell and scream, and finally we all go away and stay away. The disinfo troll sure enough doesn't give a flying fuck one way or another over any of it.

It's not a bad tactic if you think about it. And sure I fell for it. But as he (or they - tag teams are beyond common) slung out different progressive wedge issues the picture of them as disinfo sharpened for me. So I made a trap. Here's the cut and paste from Aang's comments:
nobody said...

And oh look, there's a comment from anon who was just now over at Kenny's complaining that Aang had censored him. Just like he was in at my place (a poetry blog, go figure) complaining that I'd censored him there too. Truth was he'd idiotically gone to the comments page from a week earlier, where (duh!) his comment wasn't.

Mate, it's like you're hellbent on announcing as loudly as possible, and in as many forums as possible, that you are as thick as pigshit. If I had fucked up that badly I'd crawl away in shame. But not you! Over and over you continue to loudly make a complete arse out of yourself. Unbelievable.

As things stand, your criticisms make no sense, you make no sense, and I find myself being shepherded (by your goodself, ahem) towards the position of viewing you as a disinfo merchant for the satanist/ paedophile branch of the death cult. Your shtick, such as it is, is to split the crowd here on a complete furphy - zio something or other - something, anything to distract us all from Aang naming names in the satanist paedophocracy.

Hmm, I'm going to call this the 'Hey everyone! Look over there!' technique. It's pretty crummy but there aren't that many plays in the paedophile disinfo playbook are there? It's a tough gig defending the indefensible, and what's a feller to do?

But never mind all that! You can still redeem your good anonymous name yet. All you have to do is write something, anything, on global organised paedophile-based satanism. Any opinion will do. No need to fear, this is not a trap! And you won't fall in it! I swear to God.

And because I'm that kind of fellow, I'll thoughtfully provide you with some talking points. If you're Americanocentric you might want to run with:

the McMartin scandal
the Presidio scandal
Dave McGowan's Pedophocracy
the False Memory Syndrome Foundation
Ralph Underwager and Padika
The Finders
The Institute for Psychological Therapies

And if you're Eurocentric:

the Dutroux scandal
the Casa Pia scandal
Jersey and Haut de la Garenne
Kincora Belfast
Margaret Hodge Islington
the ISGP
Baron Benoix de Bonvoisin
Michel Nihoul
Jean Violet and Le Cercle

That should do for now. Anything you have to say on the subject will be greatly appreciated.

And punters who've just dropped in and are wondering what some of those things are - get googling!

PS And anon - remember, this is not a trap and there is no wrong answer.
Now he's in a bind and that was the whole idea. For a pedophocracy disinfo spook a list such as the above is precisely what he doesn't want. His job is to stamp out all discussion of the aforementioned and here it is, as a google guide for the curious. Besides which, what opinion is he meant to express on it?


The flipside of this was that I didn't care if he answered or not. Me waving a flag with the words TRAP written on it was a red herring designed to scare him into running. And he did precisely what I wanted. He fled. People can get nit-picky if they want but for me this was sufficient evidence of where his head was at. But nor is it as simple as that. His failure to answer provided me with a whip to goad him with later. And over at Kenny's he fell for the second bait which this time I thoughtlessly failed to flag with the word TRAP. But it was one, of course:
nobody said...

Is that anon wanker still declaring he's been censored? God spare us. You said the same thing at my poetry blog even though your stupid fat-head comments were right there. And there you were with the same charge at Aang's the other day and equally as wrong! You're not just disinfo but you're crap at it. You dim-witted incompetent. I guess if they pay peanuts they get monkeys.

Anyway monkey boy, after I asked you to make a comment, any comment, on a long list of satanist pedophocracy take-your-pick, and you chose to run away, I'm calling you as a paedophile disinfo spook. You got the game, you may as well have the name. You're not stevieb are you? Actually who gives a shit? Either way: Fuck Off Kiddy Raper.
And now watch him put his foot right in it:
Anonymous said...

Oh and "nobody" you talk about pedophilia almost as much as "aangirfan" does. No wonder you defend him so hard. You are projecting with all that pedo talk obviously. Creepy.
Bingo! Straight out of the paedophile disinfo playbook! Time to get vicious:
nobody said...

That's word perfect mate. You are textbook.

In the avalanche of evidence Aang provides, you have nothing to say apart from 'it's all in your head'. Pedophocracy disinfo merchants are so fucking predictable. I gave you a list of twenty things, any one of which would, for regular right-thinking people, elicit a single response, that being, 'Holy Shit! I had no idea!'

Paedophile disinfo merchants on the other hand never bat an eyelid. They been there, done that, got the thousand yard stare to go with it. Mate, you are the walking dead. In your head is a blank space and the only thing that makes you feel alive is fucking children.

Comment again, I dare ya. You are so zombified and so fucked up that you have no idea how real people think anymore. I lay a trap for you, I even tell you it's a trap and all you can do is walk straight into it.

One more time: say something, anything that wavers from a paedophile disinfo line. And to make things really crystal clear - This is a trap. Do you get it? Yeah? But guess what? It doesn't matter that I warned you since you cannot stray from the paedophile line. You can only walk on a pre-programmed path even when you know the trap is there.

You fuckers are so stupid and so predictable it's almost funny. Except for the bit about you raping kids.

And if punters out there think this is a weird conversation have a read of this [link to the stevieb piece]. It's longish but regardless you'll see a textbook example of what I'm talking about above. In that case the paedophile disinfo merchant, one stevieb, precisely fulfills the description of zombie who cannot stray from the path.

Hmm... I'm going to front page this over at my place. And professional kiddy rapers are welcome to come on down. Be warned: you will be on the menu.
So there you have it. If you have an inkling that you're talking to a paedophile disinfo scum you can tear their mask off by way of the simple expedient of asking them to express an opinion on the topic. The reason this will work is because they cannot do it. They are utterly incapable of expressing an opinion on a subject about which normal humans can only have one opinion. This opinion, this humanity, is now lost to them. They no longer possess it. All they know is raping kids and covering it up. They are perfect one-trick ponies who, hobbled by their lack of humanity, will fall at the first hurdle. Anyone who wants to take them down, it's as simple as that. There ain't nothin' to it. Attack.


I address them now -

C'mon down, you worthless dead cunts! I know you're seething with rage. Well, the comments are right here, and we'll see who's blood gets spattered on the walls. Because I tell ya - and you can't say you weren't warned - it's going to be yours. You got nothing. Nothing but the prospect of a stomping. Yeah, metaphoric, whatever - what's in your head is what's in your head.

Or, I tell you what. Stay away! It is the spook's smart money bet after all. And sure it's chickenshit, but then again, you ARE chickenshit. You know it and I know it. As if anyone who rapes kids was ever going to be anything else.

Watch me predict the future - it's easy because you got no option - you're going to run to Kenny's, and every other forum you can find, and you're going to squeal bloody murder like some vicious Thai ladyboy. You'll jabber about every thing under the sun except for that thing, the thing that can't be spoken of, the only thing in your black hole of a head, the only thing that propels your worthless zombified corpse through your dead grey world. You worthless cunts.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Poet / Priest / Warrior / Wanker

My favourite Finn, P2P, wrote to me and I wrote back.


Hey P,

Ha ha ha, well, that's a bit spooky. I am precisely in the middle of the, ahem, 'priest v warrior' thing myself. To be perfectly honest I'm neither but it sounds nice to put the conversation in such terms. Very 'Grrrrrr'. And did someone say 'wannabe' just now? No? Good.

Actually, I was doing really well at the shedding-of-ego thing for a while there, right up until I started doing my blog and people began complimenting me on my writing. Then slowly but surely the ego kicks back in and I want to be seen and heard. If I'm not, then I don't exist. Perish the thought!

So I exist, and at the moment I'm in amongst the tedium of buying a van so I can kit it out to live in. I'm as slow as a Finnish Winter, ha ha. But it's easy to dawdle what with living at my Mum's. Like some kind of sitcom caricature. It's me transported back to my childhood and I dislike it intensely. Dope is the way to cope. And the way to get nothing done. But never mind all that, I’ve run out of dope now and slowly but surely everything’s getting sorted out. And once that happens I should be in a position to eat my ego cake and have it too.

Did you ever read Papillon? It was pretty good, I actually read it twice. And there's one bit in there where Papillon is sent to the smallest of the Devil's Islands which is so isolated that there aren't even any guards. The prisoners live in little shacks and look after their farm plots, chickens, and pigs which supplement the food that's brought by boat from the mainland once a week. For Papillon that was some kind of desolate hell, with him spending his whole time figuring out how to escape.


Weirdly enough Papillon repeatedly finds himself in paradise but, what with being obsessed with revenge against those that sent him there (um... to paradise) he can only think of leaving. What an idiot. For me it sounds like heaven. The only thing this Devil's-Island-of-my-imagination is missing is the internet. I don't need it as a daily gig - once a week would be fine. Okay, that sounds do-able so why don't I gun for that?

And that's what the van is for. Do you know my plan? To buy a van? And drive aran? Sorry, I was gripped by the muse there. ('Cough!' she said, ha ha ha). Anyway... I don't actually want to drive around Australia like some kind of gift-shop frequenting tourist. God spare me tourist towns. Instead, I'll be heading in the opposite direction. I want to find a place barely on the map that makes its own sense and feels right. Somewhere I can live an ascetic life without any distractions. This is the real world, you understand. The other world, the virtual world, the world of the conversation in my head, I reserve for the net. And this will be nobody.

When I was at the Zen temple in Japan the first thing the Abbot's assistant said to me was: 'Shiraberi wa dame' ~ 'Chit-chat is bad'. And that's true but the temple was full of its own contradictions and that phrase likewise. So I've refigured it. This pivots on ignorance and delusion - under these headings conversation isn't bad per se. If a discussion seeks as its goal to dispel ignorance and delusion it's a worthy thing surely? Excellent, so where do we find such conversations?


Certainly nowhere in this real world. Friends, relatives, whomever - an endless series of discussions about house prices, shopping, and a thousand other worthless topics. Of course, if it was framed in an understanding of the-world-as-falsity that would be fine. But it never is. In a world without context God help anyone who wants to reset a conversation in any context that isn't inane. Ayah, let's change the subject. The only place I find conversations that are possessed of context (and thus aren't bullshit) is on the net.

Okay then, that's what I'll do. In this world where my exterior skin is me, I'll have nothing to say. I will be that zen priest. Meanwhile in the virtual world (that people in the real world are free to visit, and do all the time) I shall be... well, let's say a 'threepenny warrior', ha ha, albeit with words as a weapon. And sure, I sound like a wanker but, you know, whatever.

God knows how it'll work. Right now, there's a certain intellectual logic to it, but the realness of the world has a way of pulling threadbare logic to pieces. In all probability I'll crash and burn but that's fine - no one ever said being bloody-minded was easy. Madness looms of course, but only if I forget why I'm there and what I'm doing it for. The thought I'll need to remember will be:

"What the fuck did you expect? You knew this was coming. Empty your head of all that whiney shit. The world is beautiful. The Buddha was just a man and what one man can do, another can also. Besides which, the only certainty is change and however you feel now, that's only now."
I've done this mindset before - like every time I quit smoking and wonder why I'm alive. And yeah I know it sounds like some cheesy Eckhart Tolle platitude but that doesn't mean that it's without utility. In many ways it's just mindfulness, a way of stepping sideways from your unhappiness and viewing it as a thing-not-you. A thing that can be let go of, sure enough.

Not forgetting of course, that the conversations on the net, even though they're possessed of a worthy context can still serve as clutter for the mind. They certainly do for me. Do you ever read Jeff Wells? He's very good, easily a better writer than I am. His latest piece, whilst being somewhat abstruse, has some interesting points not least of which are his thoughts on the effect computers have on the brain.


But all things have a flipside and computers are no different. None of us would be here, or be the people we've become, if weren't for the curiosity machine - Jeff Wells included. Paraphrasing Paracelsus, 'Everything is a poison, it all depends on the dose'. And yep, I just looked that up on the net.

So! I'm going sit out the net as a day to day thing. It's just more chit-chat, and like he said, shiraberi wa dame. Instead I'll be in the middle of nowhere writing, taking photos, painting - ideally with nothing but the wind in the casuarinas for company. It will all be about focusing as opposed to being dissipated. And then every weekend I'll drive into town, hit the local library, and load up the latest piece. I'm already prepped for this: on my hard-drive I have the OED (plus another dozen dictionaries), Wikipedia, Wikiquotes, Britannica, and an e-book and photo/art collection you could barely jump over. I am my own library, ha ha.

But this will mean the end of me as the chatty chap in the comments, my own included. I expect I'll miss it, but this and a thousand other things. No great loss.


So there you go mate. That's what I'm doing. Now all I need is a fucking van and I'm gone. Do you know anyone wanting to sell a late model, high-roof, long wheel base Ford Transit? In New South Wales? For under $15,000? No, me neither.

But never mind, I'll get there.