A Burning Ring of Fire [I]

Before I begin, I’d look to put us all in the proper frame of mind to contemplate the issues this article will be touching on. For that, I turn to my favourite Octopus:

“Ain’t you never seen a disembodied soul before?
Ain’t you never seen a soul seeking incarnation? Information?

And when she feeds the fish they flip and jerk and wriggle in the pond
and when she hands them things they all perk up ‘n nibble on her thumb
and in a globe of frogs the moth unfurls its moistened wings
and in a globe of frogs a soul appears the words made flesh”

To answer his first question, yes. I’ve seen a disembodied soul before. Quite a few of them. Honestly, I’m far more disturbed by the trend of seeing more and more disensouled bodies walking around, which I wrote of last article [the process]. As Hitchcock chimes in: “Mrs. Watson all your children have been certified I insane [but I want you]!” The lights are on. No one’s home. But she still looks damn good.

As I mentioned last article, I was cornered a couple of times recently. But, this is one of the few regards I’m not cat like. Since we already discussed the first issue, time to go over the positive one. A friend asked me why I’m writing this blog.

“Well, to educate myself and others, I guess.”

“But, didn’t you say that you had given up on trying to awaken those who don’t want to be awakened.”

“You’re quoting me back to me now? Yea, I said that and I meant it. I could argue that I’m long past that, my writings have moved well past the point of trying to wake the masses. I’m sure most sleepers who encounter my words will dismiss me as insane within a few paragraphs.”

“So, why are you still here writing this and not off living?”

“I don’t know. It’s gotten to the point where I’m not doing this because I want to be doing it, but because I have to do it.”

“And what is IT, that you are doing?”

“I’m building an ark.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m not really sure.”

I don’t even know where the answer came from. And so begins this journey of synchronicity and I’ll have to put off donning the Angry Rebel mask and “tearing the anti-smoking people a new one” for another week or twelve. Out of curiosity I typed my answer into Google and found this story about a [flying] Dutchman:

Do I wonder if the coming Aquarian wave will include a deluge of H2O? No. I think the deluge is metaphoric. Incidentally, a couple of days later, I was to watch one of the new movies. Speaking of such, have you noticed how almost every movie that comes out now is about CONspiracy topics? Just a sampling from 2009: Echelon Conspiracy, The International, Aliens & Monsters, The Box, GI Joe Rise of Cobra, S. Darko, 2012, Avatar, Return to Iron Witch Mountain, Anjous ou Demons, and on an on… From the slew of ones already released, I settled in to watch Knowing:

The movie, in a nutshell, is about how a message in a time capsule from the past, contains codes which foretell every single world disaster to follow its burial, and how ultimately, all of mankind is doomed. Doomed! You won’t ever hear the word “spoiler” from me, and I would hope you do not expect to. I will not apologize for spoiling your mind-control experience. If you ever catch this rebel using the phrase “warning: spoiler ahead” feel free to kick the shit out of me. Anyway, this coded message consists of a scribbled page consisting of a string of numbers: {*1}

Cage’s son receives the message from the time capsule and Cage decodes it … tun tun tun … and discovers it contains the date, location and death toll for EVERY “disaster” in the world over the past 50 years, and that three more are pending. Tun tun tun! So, Cage sets off stop to the pending catastrophes. The film’s montage of “disasters” consists of all the planned events of the powers that be like 9/11, Oklahoma City and even “natural” ones like Katrina where the reported death toll was at least 20 times higher than the “official” body count [hence, plot blown, capsule was wrong]. In a fitting sync, the Department of Fatherland Security has now officially reclassified acts of terrorism as “man-made disasters.”

Cage takes the paper to his fellow MIT professor [another well-trained monkey, conditioned to “believe without knowing“], and gets robotic wisdom handed to him. “Numerology. Kabalah. Pythagorean Cults. They’re systems that find meaning in numbers. They are a dime a dozen.” Oh, thank you Doctor Alpha Monkey!

Assigning the word “cult” to Pythagoras, whom had he not shared his knowledge with mankind, MIT’s staff of well-trained monkeys would still be looking for the meaning of life by sifting through their own poo. [Hm … just occurred to me, but were they to, they might end up a lot closer to the truth than they are now.] Instead you have math and science departments full of alphas who believe [without knowing] the most preposterous outlandish fairy tales like the Theory of Relativity, the Big Bang, or Darwin’s Evolution. Now, they are a dime a dozen! {*2}

More clever mind-washing is how every moron who watches this movie will now be even harder to reach. For example, I used to be able to explain what it is I do to the uninitiated by going over the Independence Day DC/NYC/09:11:01 example. After their mind is poisoned by this movie, reaching the profane will be harder.

Also, this movie fails miserably in another arena: all the needless running and overdone drama, pointless car chases, all the intense disorienting and anxiety producing music, and all the “spooky” voices. Even when Cage is first deciphering the numbers, he does so in ridiculously low light conditions. Dude, turn on a fucking light bulb! Oh sorry! You can’t spook the sheep if he works in the light.

This is definitely one area I strikingly differ from a lot of other researchers in my field. The people making these movies [not not the idiots pitching and selling staid ideas and acting like they’re “players”, they’re just dumb-fucks like the rest of us], but who have a guiding hand, are not your friends. Look what movies alone have done to our fellow “man;” made him far from that. Your fellow woman? Far worse!

I have to share a related spectacle I was to recently witness (a topic addressed to death last issue). Walking around “my” bar, was a lovely young woman with nice legs and a well-shaped little rear on her. The feature was accentuated by insanely high-heels and extremely short shorts. You couldn’t help but notice her ass, and be caught doing so, cause she’d regularly turn back to see who was looking.

In the parking lot at closing, some guy kept sneaking up behind her and smacking her on the ass as hard as he could and then, running away. She’d scream in feigned anguish and yell in [feigned] anger, and pointlessly [try to] chase him [heels restricting mobility]. She was loving the attention; a lot of her ego was wrapped up in that ass of hers. This slap/scream/chase cycle went on ad nauseum while everyone else was giggling, snorting and guffawing.

When I say everyone, I mean everyone except me, cause it dawned on me that mankind isn’t too far removed from running around like monkeys flinging poo at each other. But, I didn’t let it ruin my night, cause I know there are two ways of looking at everything. On the positive side, when that day comes, I’ll be able to fling my own poo at these dumb cunts. On the negative, these dumb cunts will be flinging their poo at me, and there’s a lot more of them than there are of me. {*3}

It could be argued, by those who’ve been properly conditioned, that this is the way young people are supposed to behave. No, it isn’t! Less than 100 years ago, anyone over 20 acting in said manner would have been labeled as mildly retarded and told to not act this way publicly, lest they be thrown in a mental home. Less than 200 years ago, anyone over 16 behaving in such manner would have been suspect. This terminal adolescence is part and parcel of the social engineering agenda.

Another unfortunate experience that comes to mind was witnessing an impromptu “booty shake” contest at some club. Now, I [used to] love women and I do so adore the female body. It brings me great joy to see women naked. But, this “booty shake” thing consists of girl after girl going up on stage, bending over, and doing nothing but shaking, rotating and bumping her ass up and down. There’s no smile, body, style, or god forbid, the slightest hint of personality coming through. May as well just cut off her legs, head, torso and all the other utterly useless bits.

I have to stress that, for the time being, it does all come down to choice. Free will. No one put a gun to humanity’s head and said, “You women will all dance in this degrading manner,” and, “You gents will overlook the ridiculously unappealing nature of the act and relish it.” Reconnecting us back to my last article is the Blue Booty Shake [“directed” by another MM]? Is Cthulhu [above center] somehow responsible for this agenda? And why BBQ? Is it me, or is it getting hot in here?

This ongoing degeneration of mankind is the main reason why this rebel is so damn angry. All around me is a wave of humanity who no longer fits the definition. Look what passes for conversation: the expressing of the opinions of others as our own, and even far worse, people expressing themselves by repeating verbatim pop soliloquies written by others (South Park and Sex and the City come to mind).

Once you understand social engineering, human contact becomes more daunting, because even though the person victim opposite you is unaware, you can see the subroutine running inside their head. I think David Icke, while more hopeful about “the future” of humanity than I, was right to use the phrase describing the current wave of awakening we are witnessing as “the Robot’s Rebellion.”

I am trying not to become the “Simpsons Guy” [though I did give cause for association], and even said I wanted to get well beyond the “digging up syncs” trap, whereby my energies are spent in reactive mode. However, I can safely say, beyond paranoia now, that they [the Medes] are, without doubt, also responding to us. I wouldn’t call it a war, cause war is a game played by suckers. It’s more of a game. It’s chess. The ultimate prize is control or liberation of the minds of men.

However, there are a few initiatives/reactions that I observed in a recent Sunday-night “double-header” worth addressing/recasting. Yea, the story line had the requisite promotion of surveillance technology used in a “good” way; of how it can help protect innocents [in this case, little Maggie]. Of course, it was loaded with superliminal sexual innuendos [which have become a staple of family programming]. I dare someone to argue that a “pink pussy” icon is subliminal.

But, beyond that [by clicking on the pussy] we get to see Moe’s “little” woman. Oh, she’s such a doll! And then suddenly, she freezes stiff, becoming the doll. That was their response [to us who’ve written of mind-control memes]. Of course, she’s wearing a red dress [like the girl in the Matrix, someone out there made a video of women in red dresses, but I can’t find it]. But honestly, does she look like a “little person” (i.e., a midget) to you or like a little girl? Looks “good enough to eat?”

At the beginning, for what may have been my benefit, there was an otherwise inexplicable scene of a woman inside a [red] Elmo outfit taking off her mask and eating/fellating a hot dog [do read this]. Making the best of the phallic topic, a hidden truth was revealed [which I guess I should thank the Simpsons for]. Notice how the Simpsons, a family of commoners have arched doorways in their house?

While rounded arched doorways are a staple in the houses of the Western priest class and nobility, in Middle-Eastern locales, those arches tend to be pointy. I recall that in a book by William S. Burroughs (may have been Naked Lunch), he fancied Middle-Eastern men cause of their “wedge-shaped” phalluses. Is that the reason for the subtle difference in architecture? Arch Texture?

How many people do you know that have arched doorways in their house? Commoners have square doorways. According to Chris Everard, there’s a good reason for this construction methodology: disembodied spirits like to cling to the tops of doorways and drop down through the crown chakra and take possession of those passing underneath [if the doorway/arch isn’t “flat,” they are unable to “cling,” hence slide off]. They tend to prefer taverns and places of heavy consumption of alcohol, as intoxication leaves one less resistant to possession.

These spirits do so in order to experience the sensations of this physical realm. Hence, knowing they, in most cases, will have a limited duration of control over the individual, they tend to go to extremes during the possession period, in hopes of “feeling” as much as is humanly possible, both positive and negative.

Another light bulb went off after watching Everard’s Spirit World documentary. What do we say after a night of wanton inebriation; finding ourselves having to apologize for our out-of-character actions? Well, usually, “I’m really sorry,” followed by, “I don’t know what came over me,” or “I wasn’t myself last night.”

I do feel sorry for you women. Out of all the images related to spirits out there, the one that contained the phrase “women’s spirits” is focused on your rear exit. As Stygian Port mentioned, anal sex may be another means leading to spiritual possession, which per my theory, would be facilitated by “disrupting the energy flow of the stargate.” It makes sense when you consider that if the crown chakra is the only other entry point, then a temporary reverse polarity of the [chakra] system could play into the possession equation. [¡hm, a prior image may say too much!]

I have to applaud Stygian for being one of the few other bloggers brave enough to dare explore the depths of the topic (not literally, then again, I really wouldn’t know). Yes, “ass and tentacles” was at the bottom of the survey results, but to not dive in would have been foolish. The jigsaw would never have fit together.

While proofreading the above it occurred to me that Led Zeppelin had an album entitled “In Through the Out Door.” Knowing the occult depths the band is rumored to have delved, and recalling Fritz Springmeier’s suggestion that our masters keep stables of children for the purpose of harvesting energy, suddenly the “innocent” Houses of the Holy album cover of naked blonde children climbing the pyramid of fire seems far from innocent. Houses of the Holy? Indeed! [¡hole-ee!] Indeed.

Trying to get us back on the track to the movie is the subtle combination of Led Zep’s “random” color patterns, and the reminder under the hot-dog devouring woman’s head, “J. Stewart Burns.” Knowing is about the entire Earth, and all humanity, being burned to a crisp by the sun. It is getting hot in here! A couple of odd conversations regarding penises, I mean hot dogs, take place in the movie.

One such convo, is between Cage and his sister. Regarding her nephew, she inquires, “You’re not feeding him Dad’s famous Sunday Night hot dogs again are you?” His response drops us even deeper into the realm of the uncomfortable, “Believe it or not. Caleb and I have a good thing going here.” That “fapping” noise you heard was the Catholic Priest sitting three rows behind you in the theater.

What the fuck? Nothing is accidental. Nothing! Yes, there are a bunch of idiots on the set, but don’t you think one of the thousands of people who was involved in making this picture … one, just one … would/should have said, “Um? That scene makes me a little uncomfortable.” Has the twisted theme always been so ever-present under our nose, and we’re just so dissociatively programmed we don’t see it? The stained glass display on the left would strongly suggest so.

The name of his son’s school is after William Dawes, one of the unrecognized riders supplanted by the Paul Revere myth. Just found it kind of a strange tie in to Cage’s role of uncovering “secret” American History in the Nat Treasure movies.

Cage’s intro in this movie begins with his requisite nod to the Saturnian cult, setting up a telescope for his son to view the concentric rings of Saturn. He turns to the boy, and [oddly] announces, “Saturn’s rings await your approval.”

In sync, when I told a friend I was presently investigating Nicholas Cage Coppola, she sent me a link to some guy named Brian Stalin [¡!]. He’s one of these sheisters who traces the reincarnations of famous people using little evidence other than their pictures. Per Stalin, Cage is the reincarnate of David Rittenhouse, who is the astronomer credited with building a telescope using spider silk and being “chosen” to observe the transit of Venus. According to some [not me], Venus is Lucifer, the Morning Star. According to others [not me], Lucifer is Satan, aka “Old Nick.”

Despite the uncanny syncs, I can safely say that Stalin is full of shit. Even though he doesn’t claim Edgar Cayce has been reincarnated as David Wilcock, he goes so far to insist it is none other than Daniel Craig! OK! So, Cayce who dedicated his life to the uplift and healing of humanity, chose to came back as the Queen’s official anus-licker and Zionist boy-toy? Plus, as the picture of Craig/Kidman above may indicate, either these “stars” are so mind-controlled, they are sleep-walking, or the process of intercision has been perfected and these celebs have no souls. {*4}

Old Nicholas, after setting up the scope, then tries to put his son through his “famous” hot dog ritual, but the son declines, “I can’t consume that. I’ve decided to become a vegetarian.” His son is rebelling, in more ways than one.

Note: It’s worth mentioning now, that Cage played a con-man in Ridley Scott’s “Matchstick Men.” Yes, I know. There’s a lot more of fire coming. Is Cage truly a Con Man, a member of Kahn/Cohen serpent class/line? Wasn’t he also in Con-Air?

But first, what kid says “consume?” Cages then admonishes his son/sun to get to bed early, lest he not be able to “concentrate in school” the next day. I know a few of you are probably grimacing right now, but, I’ll again quote the great Pythagoras:

“he who sows the seed of murder and pain cannot reap joy and love”

It’s a big con. Your life has been a con. Many will resist acknowledging the extent, for the ego has been conditioned to conveniently deny our own most conspicuous failings. We’ve all been born the same way, mentally handicapped and then brutally indoctrinated to accept insanity and indifference as normal. The fork on the road to freedom does not come from reading a book, blog or any knowledge. It begins when you stand up and say, “No. I will not conform. Damn the consequences!”

That is when the deconstruction begins. That is when consciousness takes root.

The double-innuendo rejection from Cage’s evolving rebellious son, Caleb, was either intentional or insuppressible. Convention [be it ritual or tradition] is a spell of binding [one to this realm], as is the pursuit of “fame” (an interesting sync between Caleb and Celeb). I’ve already written on the topic, and I know it made mentors and readers alike uncomfortable. Suffice to say, all the rationalizations in the world can not mask indifference. You can not evolve without love.

And when I speak of love, I speak of something most of us dumb cunts have no concept of, not that man/woman [insert man/woman/dog as culture dicktates] relationship soulmates scribble names on paper with flower and vagina accents lifelong commitment self-sacrificing emotional prisoner material comfort token ring bullshit we’ve been conditioned with since childhood, nor the masturbatory pangs of lonely artists over aeons, but this is not the time or place.

Love your neighbor. Love the universe, all things great and small. But most importantly, love yourself. No, I’m not Jesus. I’m not even the ticketmaster.

I can’t even claim there’s a ticket with my name on it lying in wait anywhere. I don’t make the rules, and can do no more but speculate as to what they may be. I’m just building the metaphoric [i.e., after the before] ark. A long time ago, while out wearing some kind of anti-meat t-shirt, some redneck came up to me, trying to instigate a fight, “I guess you got a problem with me cause I like to hunt!” {*5}

My answer produced quite the opposite effect. I actually respect those that can hunt and kill animals for themselves. The people I have a problem with are those who through their indifference and cowardice, allow the present system of unimaginable horror to take place, while dissociatively labeling the sentient flesh before them with terms like burger and bacon, and dismissing the “unmitigated suffering” with unemotive unconscionable responses like, “I don’t like to think about it.” [¡hm!]

Words made flesh? I know this is all over the place, and that’s because putting out this wildfire has been like combining a complex jig-saw puzzle. It will all fit together at the end. In the meantime, certain parts may not look like they’re part of the bigger picture, until the connecting pieces reveal themselves.

One such convoluted connection [alas, back to the movie], was the music playing while the kids were burying the time capsule. It was the orgy music from Conan the Barbarian. Remember the orgy scene involving the consumption of human flesh?

And later, when they’re getting ready to dig up the time capsule, the new kids are singing a catchy little Luciferean ditty that goes, “This little lite of mine, I”m gonna let it shine.” [X3] “Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.”

Is that Diane Franklin [above left]? I guess after she lost her virginity, she took whatever role she could get. Speaking of virgins, a younger MTV-watching Christian friend contacted me after my last article, to inform me that Shelly the Christian “Virgin” would “never” have sex with me unless I was to “marry her.” First of all, I doubt there are too many out there who’d honestly believe this Rebel would travel 1500 miles in hopes of having sex with some girl he saw on television.

But, to all you doubters out there. Oh ye of little faith! Never ever underestimate what the Celtic Rebel, a little planning, a little wardrobe and proper lighting could accomplish. I do feel slightly bad, cause within 12 hours of my last posting, her myspace page [which was public during the entire Paris Hilton BFF show] went private. Coincidence perhaps [most likely, my intuit suggests some lunacy].

“Slightly,” cause this “Christian,” raised her right hand on the show and said, “I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help me Paris.” Under the “you just can’t make this shit up” category, guess what she calls her boyfriend? Poopy!

Before I could even start trying to put the pieces of the jigsaw together, another Sunday was to pass. All I needed to see from the predictive programming bit on TV was the “couch gag.” The family runs for the couch to watch TV, but finds a family of monkeys sitting in their place. The monkeys get agitated and chase the Simpsons out [¿flinging poo at them?]. This was a non-verbal contract. {*6}

This is your future: you rush home to watch American Idol and find that what was once you is now a bunch of monkeys. The key word in the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement is “voluntary.” The creators [of the show] have fulfilled their obligation to inform you of the mind-fuck coming your way. Whatever happens after that, you’ve accepted the conditions of and all responsibility for. You consented!

Anyway, back to Conan, the idea of Arnold Schwarzenegger breaking up an orgy cracks me up to no end. I’m sure the old guys that pounded Mr. Universe’s tight muscular buns all had a giggle over the scene. Notice the flames.

The more I learn of Robert E. Howard (the author of the Conan series), the more I grow convinced that casting [as in spell-casting] Arnold in the role was an attempt to paint the hero in an oafish light. Though Conan was undeniably a brute, in comparison to today’s average monkey [I think, for some reason, some of you guys still insist on calling them “human beings”], he seems like a philosopher:

“I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. I seek not beyond death. It may be the blackness averred by the Nemedian skeptics, or Crom’s realm of ice and cloud, or the snowy plains and vaulted halls of the Nordheimer’s Valhalla. I know not, nor do I care. Let me live deep while I live; let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and am content.”
– Robert E. Howard

And no, I didn’t just contradict myself by using said quote, you’d not have seen Conan in the queue of the local supermarket. Should you ever see him at one, I would recommend running like hell. For, unlike modern man, still trusting his senses, he would reason that creatures who work all day to pay for the privilege of eating chemical waste, should have their skulls split open. He’d view it as a necessity; that forcing us to split company with misery was an act of kindness.

Again, I’d like to thank my Aussie friend Charles, for the wonderful quote. One day, before I move on, I will have to devote an entire article to Conan, the Warrior Christ, but just not yet. Anyone else out there who’d like to see the words of significant wizards incorporated into my stream, feel free to enlighten me.

Perhaps I once fancied myself a warrior, but I am not such a brute. A warrior-priest maybe? Who am I kidding? Myself I think. If anything, I am a wordsmith, I am wizard, whether I wish to acknowledge it or not. These words I spin together and put out into the minds of men and the aethers beyond are my attempt to craft a better world. “Flame and crimson,” said Howard? The pieces are falling into place.

Oh yea, the movie. The one I began discussing several paragraphs ago. The fire theme is omnipresent in this one. Cage’s wife died in a fire. The prophet Lucinda Embers (cinder and ember, Luciferan). Cage’s co-star is Rose Byrns. Cage watching the oil platform fire. All the people we witness burning [just a few of them above].

Summit Entertainment, the company responsible for this warm programming experience/steaming pile of dung (depends on interpretation), also [“officially’] crafted City of Ember and the Resident Evil series [which fits significantly into the puzzle]. If you’ll recall, burning was the topic of that came up only two articles ago (Patricia’s Burning Hangover). Does Cage somehow resonate with fire?

Looking at Cage’s resume, you’ll find extreme fire resonance, especially in his fairly recent “illuminating” National Treasure series [btw: I may need to rewrite my reView of the first, having failed to capture the subtle agenda disguised as truth behind it]. The promotion of the Americon Constitution as something more than yet another con, a lure used to bring slaves to construct our Brave New World?

Cage as Prometheus or Lucifer? Beyond that, it does look like something more than just his torch is burning as we move from the first to the second.

Seeing Cage lighting the way, I’m reminded of a little known song from the past, called “I’ll Carry the Torch for You,” that even though I don’t own a copy, has stuck in my head all these years, The song, is, as one would expect, about love, as I would surmise is Johnny Cash’s song which is this article’s title. By the way, guess what the name of the band of the former song was? Fire Town.

Please put out all smoking materials, fasten your seatbelts, and put all your chairs in the upright position. We’re not even close to being done yet.

But we have a long flight ahead of us, so go ahead, recline and contemplate for a spell. We will pick up from where we left off next issue. In the meantime, feel free to watch any in-flight movie. I’m sure whatever it is, will connect to these themes in some manner or another. Do try to stay out of the crapper though, regardless of what toxically intoxicating lures are sent your way.

Should the plane come crashing down and burn up before then, and you happen to shed your mortal coil before we next meet, whatever you do, please don’t go to the light. If I can offer one piece of sage wisdom to you, it would be “avoid the shimmering beacon/light.” The be-a-con is yet another con.

It may take another article or two to complete this puzzle, though by midway through the next, we should all have a fairly good idea of the bigger picture.

 

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*1: I’m not complaining about the shortage of donations, but am kind of disgruntled about how mankind has been conditioned into paying for degenerative mind-control (e.g., movies, whether you attend them or rent them), while expecting to receive enlightening information for free (am guilty myself). The system ensures the promotion of only the most mindless and foul-smelling of crap to the surface. By the way, if any of you have donated and did not receive a reply of gratitude please let me know. I’ve had significantly more clicks on my donate page than actual donations, and sometimes wonder if paypal is being honest. [LB]

*2: I’ve already gotten into how today’s alphas [pretty much any fool with a PhD attached to his name] are no smarter than certified trained monkeys [I guess they paid good money to learn how to fling poo with precision]. Speaking of, am starting to wonder if “God disproving” Stephen Hawking is just another massive con played on our gullibility and sympathy. A news blip about him being sick came on the other night and he was wearing a tagged Jersey with a pyramid and a “G” on it. Ladies and Gentlemen. Presenting poster-boy Stephen Hawking, sponsored by… [LB]

*3: The images kind of fell into place on their own, and upon review, have to say it made me a little “unconformable” to see the “erotic rear” and “poo” images on same page. But, I let it be, cause I think it highlights the disassociation issue I later address. [LB]

*4: Contradicting Stalin’s [w]hole work is the fact the celebs are not born, they are made. Was going to include a photo of Kidman’s lovely rear, but then it occurred to me: “Who hasn’t already seen her ass?” Name three movies where she doesn’t bare it! [LB]

*5: Have to thank my friend Anesti Vega for the “meat fail” pic and the “teen girls say life worth living after fave gets booted of American Idol” clip, which I waited too long to use and is now gone. [LB]

*6: In case someone new is here, wondering how one can look into movies without viewing them, it isn’t that simple. The point is, you can’t let movies “entrain” you, which is what happens the moment you shut off your mind and let them entertain you. You have to critically analyze every nugget [¿turd?] of information thrown your way. [LB]

~ by celticrebel on April 27, 2009.