Friday, March 30, 2012

The Soft Stool Brigade on Batshit Mountain

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be upwind from Batshit Mountain.

It's a poorly written article and dripping with oblique agenda and the rectitude of a wide, politically correct embrace. It also doesn't mention a thing about supporting terrible wars, or a number of other things. This is typical of something from Salon and reflects who owns it and uses it for the usual purposes. I put it up for my own reasons, none of which has to do with who reprinted it. The point will emerge. One thing I hope you'll notice is the first face in the series of Christian leaders. It just happens to be Alex Jones, unless he has a twin brother. Except for Tim Hagee and Pat Robertson, it also leaves out most of the cutting edge hypocrites and demagogues.

A member of Obama's cabinet was sentenced for his crimes yesterday. He didn't get much of a body count, compared to his fellows, but maybe it's a a start. I'm thinking he had a moveable 'information extraction' vehicle, taking the pulse of America's hitchhikers until there was no pulse. No doubt he was an employee of Homeland Security.

I've mentioned The Apocalypse many times over recent years. I've said that the suffocating, 'all lies all the time' media would soon be forced to publish information about people, conditions and events that are diametrically opposed to their agenda. They might not want to do it but they will do it. They might not know why but they will do it. People are going to start incriminating themselves and others, they may not want to do it but they will. This is the force of The Apocalypse.

Here is an example. It was only a headline for a few hours, if that. Now it's buried in the small print menu, still... there's a lot of this going around, this est culpa, mea culpa flu. Instead of a runny nose, you get a runny mouth and instead of your bones aching, your conscience does, in those cases where one is resident. Otherwise the condition blind sides you.

Along with more and more inadvertent and irrepressible exposure, the transparent bullshit manufacture will intensify. This is one area where the manufacturing infrastructure did not get outsourced and off shored. I'm pointing this out because I and others have been predicting the arrival of things going haywire for the bad guys; evil destroys itself. This is meant to give you a sense of optimism about things to come and maybe spur a little industry toward meeting the challenges on a personal level.

I'd appreciate it if someone in any of the relevant areas would acquire a ticket in my name. I think it's time to see how Visible does as a member of the 1%. Of course, we will split the proceeds after expenses (grin).

Along with the unfortunate (for them) revelations of malfeasance on the parts of The Soft Stool Brigade, there comes the daily outworking of excrement in action on the part of troglodyte underlings. This has now reached epidemic proportions, that range from porn to baggage theft and domestic violence to child molestation; not to mention recurrent and ongoing offensive behavior that repeatedly backfires in mastectomy fondling, geriatric and kiddie frottage, as well as burst colostomy and urine collection bags. My theory is that there is an intense familial connection between the TSA workers and the contents of these bags. It's some kind of ancestor worship or reunion communion.

All over the world, along with the viral spread of the Occupy Movement, unrest is coming to a boil, as in Greece, so it goes elsewhere. If Spring is bringing this, imagine what the warmer months will generate. This is going to amplify and intensify in the lands where personal freedom of all types used to appear to exist. It's why they put all those police and repressive laws in place. Like I said, they have known about the approach of The Apocalypse, but if they understood anything about The Apocalypse, they wouldn't have gotten up to what they got up to in the first place. The World Wide March on Jerusalem is coming and someone is ratcheting up the race war blueprint, in the former land of the free. This is also going to bite them in the ass.

Crazy rich people are camping out on Batshit Mountain, like Bill Gates with Monsanto. Along with 50% ownership of a cloaca maximus media, sewer pipe, he's doing the occasional dingbat dumbshit, which is really all about his heavy investments in toxic vaccines. Yeah Bill, “not only poor people should experience this”. Hang in there partner because, ♫Your day is gonna come♫ Bill's got some kind of bad Zen meditation going on at his Batshit Mountain retreat. Him and Little Georgie Sorrows, (irony alert!) are doing their unlevel best to make the world a more fearful and uncertain place. There's all that phony prestige, working for pervasive democracy, while creating the opposite and... there's got to be money in it, the same way there's money in the global warming scam, which isn't working out like Mr. Gored on his own petard originally hoped it would. Of course, our favorite wooden soldier, Big Al, has always done his part to put his money and lifestyle where his mouth is. The usual weasel shit from places like Snopes and elsewhere attends this revelation, like there's some big difference between 20 times and 12 times and that 'changes have been made'. We're entertained by the anecdotal comparisons between Gore and Bush but, then again, Gore didn't kill nearly as many people as Bush; not yet anyway.

I want what you've seen so far, which is only a small portion of what is there to be seen, to be a convincing argument for the fact that The Apocalypse is operating exactly as some of us said he would. I want you to entertain the idea that Mr. Apocalypse is your friend. We need a poster like the ones that used to go around, where you see a cop stooping to help a kid, with the caption “some call him pig” above or below and which is usually about stooping to conquer as opposed to stooping to help. Our poster should show Mr. Apocalypse waving his walking stick with the caption, “Mr Apocalypse needs you”. Or we could have one with a kid and a dog and possibly grandma, with the caption reading, “Mr Apocalypse, restoring decency and the rule of the law the old fashioned way”. Mr. Apocalypse can be seen standing in front of the kid, the dog and grandma and wailing on a congressman with his cane.

We need an international organization like the Friends of Mr. Apocalypse. You could have another poster with Madeline Albright (separated at birth from Little Georgie Sorrows; just look at photos of them alongside each other), or Hillary Clinton, having their skirts pulled up by Mr. Apocalypse's walking stick with the caption, “Mr Apocalypse goes where no man wants to go and we're going with him. We love you that much. We love you long time”! Just remember not to lift Madeline's skirt from the rear; then again, 500,000 dead children was worth it. Remember, you don't have to be a Tribe member to do these things, though it does help in the aftermath, with all the assets of media control. Hillary and others are members of the club. You might think of them as honorary members. Some of them do these things because they have acquired a taste for it, some of them do it for personal gain and some of them do it because of blackmail. Whenever you see world leaders and any influential types, pushing horrific agendas that nothing human could countenance, remember, there's a good reason, even if you don't know what it is.

Think about it, these psychopaths murder hundreds of thousands, millions... and they don't bat an eye. In most cases they do it simply to advance business interests. These lives are nothing more than numbers on documents. Far more people have been killed by the sweep of a fountain pen than by any other instrument on Earth. Reasonable men and women in suits, have lunch and talk about world hunger, while discussing how best to apply it. They have lunch and discuss the destruction of countries and their inhabitants, because these countries possess resources that they want. They do this, without a flicker of concern, for the outcome of their efforts in making these things happen. They move right on to the next thing. They blind people in Bhopal. They poison the residents of The Gulf of Mexico. They spread depleted uranium, like hellish fertilizer, across vast landscapes and then wait for the fruits of their industry to sprout in terrible and lasting ways. They do these things. The Rothschild, Warburg and Schiff bankers do these things. The politicians, judges and lawyers do these things. The corporations that own them and the banks that own the corporations, do these things. They take money that doesn't even exist and they loan it to you at interest, to create and maintain a culture of endless debt. They wake up in the morning and think about who they can harm. They no doubt compete with their fellows for body counts. Like that Rothschild mommy said, “If my sons did not want wars, there would be none”. Think of it? Imagine the mind that can contemplate such things and carry them out. There is nothing human about these people.

The long awaited time of cosmic justice is on the doorstep. Mr Apocalypse is on the doorstep of the world, knocking at the door with his walking stick. You don't actually have to open the door, a few taps of the stick and the door will open. That's cosmic imperative for you. We are living in interesting times.

End Transmission.......


I'm on the radio today with Robert Phoenix at 10:00 AM Pacific Time.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Bodysurfing the Kali Yuga

Dog Poet Transmitting.......


Last night's radio show is available for download.















End Transmission.......

Lyrics (pops up)

God in Country by Les Visible

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Pizzas from Hell in a Flaming Dumpster

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet and truthful in the sensing.

Here on Animal Farm, there are pigs, there are the feral outriders, there are the Mason Verger, accelerated, pig operatives of the Smithfield variety. Variety can be the spice of life, depending on the chef, or even if there is one, because; 'here's those hog nostrils, Visible, sliced real thin, just the way you like 'em', like prosciutto for your Pizza from Hell. Yeah, wafer thin Visible, almost like you, in real life. Of course, you prefer rapier thin, doncha cuz?

Deed I do, deed I do but I ain't deeding it over to you; sides, the Vis doesn't eat pork for various reasons. He knows ein wenig about reincarnation and also doesn't want certain qualities in his composite.

Yes, there are all sorts of pigs, which means there are pig Hermes, like this delightful porcine journalista. Yes, Michael Ledeen's buttbuddy, is still stoking the coals for his own baby back ribs, all you can eat special. How dark is my dungeon? How green was my valley? We'll be using human pins down at the bowling alley, “smoking them here Boss”, 'snorting them here Boss'.

There comes a time in every man's life when he has to decide whether to be man or pig. In Kali Yuga there are a surprising number that will opt for the latter. They want that Jacob Frank thing. They want those franks on the bun, with all the nasty things that making laws and sausages have in common, especially if you happen to be common and not special and elite.

An argument can be made for asking how is it all that different from eating goats (symbol alert!) instead of pigs? Well, I don't eat goats either so, that would be my response. I also don't eat carpaccio, anymore than I eat prosciutto. Yeah, I know what those things are, I'm a cook, as opposed to a chef, because they lost me at nouvelle cuisine, or maybe even before, with all the strange sauces; not to mention basic ingredients from the gitgo. We're all about putting the gitgo in your Gitmo around these parts.

How those sabers do rattle, as the rapiers hum in the apprehensive air, that wishes they had just stopped with Ozzie and Harriet. That's the thing about being absolutely right and absolutely certain, when you are absolutely wrong. You can't stop. You got a taste for it, sort of like Clarice describing Buffalo Bill to Hannibal Lecter and “I, on the other hand cannot”, smell it but then I'm not Miggs am I? Visible digressing and coalescing, as he goes and don't mind the deliquescence. It comes with the territory and you need to keep in mind that tears and salt water have a lot in common and that the Earth is 3 quarters water. That sounds like a lot of tears but fish fuck in it so, what do I know? There's that salt crystallizing in a perfect cube, like the tears of Mary, or the bench on which sits the High Priestess and don't get me started on Lot's wife.

Have I got your attention or am I in a different dimension? It's all a matter of perception. Words aren't the only things that can be made to stand on their heads. The critical issue and concept that everyone, who even gives a shit, should keep in mind, is that we are watching evil shoot itself in the foot. Once evil is sure the foot is dead, evil is going to grill that foot and eat it as an appetizer, on the way to getting around to the rest of itself. Yes, pilgrims, this you must keep in mind. Evil is doing it's death dance. It's impressive. It looks to be unstoppable. It's got all kinds of special effects and the money to pay for them. It's got your attention and everyone wants to be on the winning side but there is confusion about the time remaining on the clock and who the referees work for; the price of those franks on the bun, what is actually in those “take me out to the ballpark” franks (where do you park your balls?) and who and what you will have for dinner. If there is a dinner; “didn't get a dinner”. Do you think I'm trying to make out with a snake? Wow, he mentioned Lot's wife too and that brings me back to what I heard a few years ago in Italy, “Visible, I'm having my morning coffee, then I'm going to dispense my blessings. I'm going to open a window of forgiveness, for those who may come as they may and then I am going to kick some ass”. Hmmm, now, I'm wondering if any of this has to do with the merry, merry month of May?

I remember the highway from LA to Palm Springs, there's a part of the road where you are looking at these parched, brown hills and you can see the faces of the comedians in the rock and strata formation; at least I did. Of course it could have just been the result of the LSD but it was there, a long line of entertainment, Mt. Rushmore contortabiles, frozen in the moment, sort of like that fly in amber kind of a way.

This brings me back to Shakespeare, where I hadn't gone in the first place. It's all tragedy. It's all comedy. It's both. It's two for one night at Little Caesar's, with harmony, tranquility and peace, “stuck in the middle with you”; if you happen to be there. Indeed, it is a pizza from Hell but you don't have to eat it. The world is what it is, because it really couldn't be any other way, here in this boot camp, Greyhound station, to points unknown. Some are traveling luxury and some are traveling coach and some are riding the trains in India. That all depends on your ticket and the quality of the ride depends on what you can afford and that depends on whether you earned enough, however you did it. At the same time, some people can fly first class with next to nothing depending on who they know. Who you know counts for a great deal in all cases; as does what you know and don't know. Finally, in this regard, trips, tours and lives end and how they end and what the result is, or the continuance, does not depend on whether you traveled first class or coach, or on foot, across whatever landscapes. It depends on how you comported yourself and all of us know this is true, regardless of what we believe in, because we feel it and we have to live with it, as we are doing and will do. This is what we contend with and we seem to think that's okay. Enough of us do, so that it continues, or it has. Then there is the apocalypse. It's right there on the Rolex, Oyster Perpetual, on the wrist of the cosmos. It's highlighted. Keep in mind that pearls grow in oysters and maybe you want to reference the irritation, that grain of sand that causes the pearl to form and what the pearl symbolizes; something along the lines of The Philosopher's Stone, for all those stoned philosophers.

We don't do wetwork here at The Petri Dish, unless we do it on ourselves because there are things that need killing. One of the true arts in this life is knowing what needs to die and what needs to live and assessing what certain experiences and desires can cost you in that respect. One thing you don't want in your knapsack is regret. How's that go? “Act in haste and repent at your leisure”. That can be expanded on, so that it's not only about haste, but intention, over the long haul. It's about direction. As has been stated here and there many times. It doesn't matter if you catch a plane, ride a train, hitchhike or walk, you are going to get there all the same, if Kansas City is where you are headed. That would be a metaphorical Kansas City. Some people think that Shambala is metaphorical or allegorical. That's not the case. It's as real as you are, if you are.

I've had deep and high-end burgundy moments and Thunderbird wine sorties. I've had the high end comestibles, if you please. None of any of these things count in the long run. It's what and who you are in the mix. There are all sort of irritations that are commensurate with divine discontent. There are all sorts of follies and frolics to choose from and so you are bent. We are bent according to whatever we are after. All the strategies of acquisition, the smoke and mirrors and the trick lighting, are only stage props and features. What we are after defines us. That's how it is down here. We are representative of what we seek. We are fashioned and formed by what we are after. That's all you need to know about what's going on and then comes laughter, or whatever follows after and then come tears and remorse and regret. If you don't know bout this, then you ain't got there yet. So it goes, the Whiffenpoof disappears up your ass, or up your nose. It's why we don't look so good without our clothes on, except for that space of a youthful sprint, in pursuit of what? That's the part I don't get. Yeah, I get it but I don't get it and I don't want it, either. Help yourself, every sense of the phrase.

Alrighty then. Here we be. Is it Scylla and Charybdis, or the devil and the deep blue sea? Well that depends. Everything is available, including the Colossus of Rhodes less traveled. You can be a ketamized John Lilly, dreaming with dolphins or Albert Hoffman, riding his bicycle around Basel and be over a hundred year old. You could have a dead animal on your head like Donald Trump. Or you could be a Darth Vader Obama who is definitely not Forest Gump, or you could be yourself. Then Lecter says to Clarice, “yourself” and there is the Benjamin Raspail with no bottom. So you can see the stars if you look down. Yes, you can bring home a bucket full of starlight, with no bottom in your pail. It comes down to you and who or what you rely on. You can even cue Bill Withers to lean on me.

Goldbergs or gold mountains, are nothing next to Cold Mountain, where you can “sleep by the creek and purify your ears”. All the gold, guns and ammunition are of no consequence, when the mind behind the object, or apparatus, is no longer under the control of the one possessing it.

End Transmission.......


Sunday, March 18, 2012

The Whistle-Blower Rhapsody in Asia Minor

Dog Poet Transmitting.......


Radio show tonight, usual time and place.












End Transmission.......

About this song (pops up)

God in Country by Les Visible

Monday, March 12, 2012

The Dostoyevsky Pause on the Doubt Couch

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be on your face.















End Transmission.......

Last nights radio show is available for download.

Friday, March 09, 2012

The Great Schmoo Army of Mindless Zombie Christians

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses develop a chronic addiction to the truth.













End Transmission.......

Sunday, March 04, 2012

The Monsters at the Turning of the Age

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

(Things seem to have calmed down so I'm going back to pro forma and hope to see smoother seas for those of us in the same boat, regardless of how we got there).

Well, the world didn't end but the world doesn't end. The world is like a gigantic factory that makes stuff based on the collective mindset of the inhabitants. It's a Shake 'n Bake world. This factory, like any factory, goes through an unending process of upgrading and adapting and changing according to the mindset of the collective. It's possible that, over the course of time, the factory no longer makes any of its original products but moves on to make entirely new products because the demands of the consciousness require this. The world doesn't end. It changes. It is going to change soon, in ways and by degrees of intensity, that we have not seen since long before presently recorded history. A great many things, a great many people, a great many traditions and institutions may soon or shortly be gone ...or they may simply be changed. A very large amount of people came here for some reason. Quite obviously, a great many of them forgot why they came here.

People who are here in this time; trapped in this time might also apply, when the consciousness is caught up in material nature, are extremely confused and not representative of what is possible for humanity in an age where more light is present. It stands to reason that the predators among us would take advantage of this and they do. In a time of material darkness, banking and the control of currency is behind all of the evils that beset us. Criminal nations have been constructed in order to steal all of the wealth of the world. When the political and religious institutions have reached a certain level of corruption then the bankers can command policy on all levels. One of their primary tools is historical revisionism. Create a historical tale that supports the application of injurious policies upon the public. Control the content and flow of information so that everything is justified according to the lies created to defend whatever comes about. Make things happen and then blame them on the people you wish to exterminate.

No matter what period of history we are in, the collective consciousness lives in a dream that is reflective of the amount of light that the age makes available. Materialism is a dream. Everything we imagine is a dream. Everything that composes our view of the external world and everything we seek and intend to realize is a dream. At the moment, the awesome pull toward material culture is immense. This compromises our values and our perceptions of what is and is not so. This is how so many people can buy into obvious lies and turn a deaf ear to the truth, because accepting the truth and promoting the truth can be a dangerous proposition. It can get in the way of getting what you want. People have a natural inclination to bow to authority, to trust someone in a uniform, to believe what is stated on a piece of paper, to abide by the declarations of paper, no matter how many ways the words on the paper get rearranged, to suit the purposes and interests of those who employ the lawyers and the hired guns to enforce the dictates of their will.

Cattle mills about in crowds, eats and sleeps en masse and stampedes the same way. Most unfortunately for the cattle, or sheep, if you prefer, those empowered to herd and care for them have made an arrangement with the predators who feed on them. Basically they are screwed but they have the idea that, since there are so many of them, there's a good chance that things can go on for a good length of time before anyone or anything gets around to them. They're playing the odds, just like when they buy lottery tickets. They couldn't be happier about the presence of protestors and imaginary terrorists because it gives the government and their hired guns someone to focus on. Of course, they keep changing the designation and definition of what constitutes a terrorist or a protestor, until it pretty much covers any objection, no matter how slight or ridiculous it might become.

The odds change. The possibilities change and soon enough the conditions change and they change and change until they become so bad that no one can breathe; until there are few people breathing or until they are changed by whatever means necessary. That's where we are now.

A monster walks among us with a clipboard and instruments of torment and oppression. This monster has been walking for a long time, planning for a long time. This monster works for the concentrated evil of the departing age. This monster wants war, mass murder, gulags and concentration camps. This monster wants unending screams, uninterrupted by rights and protections. This monster has all of its rights of performance and practice guaranteed by laws brought into being by other monsters employed or compromised by it and who came into positions of power because too many people were dreaming about their own confinements that came disguised as the liberty and freedom to acquire and possess what they did not have and believed they needed and that their lives would not be complete without. Even as they pursued these things they lost everything of real value, which they possessed along the way, until they had neither.

We know who this monster is. This monster screams for blood in the headlines of the world, in the media controlled by this monster. This monster wants to attack and destroy nations and peoples who have not made war on others in centuries and those who did, did it with the assistance and at the urging of this monster. Agents of this monster are traveling from country to country at this very moment, breathing down the necks of other monsters, until they have achieved what they seek. They want to open the gates of Hell, just to see what happens and to enjoy the show. There will be no peace, no symmetry and no prosperity, while this monster and his crew are allowed to move among us. We have always been at war with the same enemy and this enemy's chief weapons are our ignorance and our appetites. We are seduced but we go willing enough.

Our good friend, Mr Apocalypse is banging with his stick on the closed door of the collective mind. The collective mind is awakening. It's a race between the evils being committed and enough minds awakening to stop them. Is it neck in neck or is it not even close? The speed of the one is increasing at a far greater pace than the pace of the monster but... will it be enough in the home stretch?

I, for one, do not believe we came all this distance to collectively sink into the darkness of this transitioning age. I believe that the end result will be very different from what most everyone expects. I think a whole lot of people are in for a big surprise, even though I don't know what that surprise is. I can feel the tension in the air. I can see the malevolent and malicious machinations of the enemies of humanity; the enemies of all that is good and decent and desirable in life. I can see the levels of their industry. They press down on the well being and economy of the masses in order to create desperation, confusion and want. They create the appearance of danger to instill and inspire fear and this grants the permissions to engage in all kinds of horrors. They are the authors of the climate and conditions. They are the authors of the appearances of danger and they are the authors of the horrors. It's all a part of 'problem, reaction, solution'.

It's all a lie. It's all transparent and obvious lies and the degree of transparent and obvious is directly related to the degree of flat out stupidity that is the general state of awareness, in those seduced by crass material attractions in shrink wrapped glitter. It's all about showing a little leg as a promise of what lies beyond but... when you unwrap the thing there are no privates, just plastic bumps. Whatever they thought they were after isn't there and even when it is, it's not what they thought it was. The next thing they know, they're trapped below the surface in filament nets; food for what lies beneath.

This is not a new story. This is always going on to some degree. You couldn't have this world without the interaction of dual nature. It's balance that we want, the same way it's always a good idea to take the vices and darker attractions and put them in a certain part of town. If you get hurt, robbed or disappointed well, you went there under your own power. People go to Las Vegas for the single purpose of throwing their money away and to temporarily feel that they are part of some kind of hot and heavy action. They're like people playing carnival games that don't understand how the games work. It's why you still see three card monte games and you still see people taken in by them. These are the same people that believe all of the other bullshit and who have picture frames on their mantels of their dead children in uniforms.

I don't know where I was going with all of this. It just sort of happened and there it is. Make of it what you like. It won't be long now and we are going to see what the results of our cowardice and indifference have gotten us. We're going to see what stupidity and ignorance harvest. You plant tomatoes, you get tomatoes.

End Transmission.......

Patrick Willis narrates:
The Monsters at the Turning of the Age

There will be a radio show this evening.