Good Morning America!
Welcome to the new ‘you’, the place you call ‘home’ and an ever-growing conspiracy of silence. Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone because if anyone ever found out anything at all, well then it would be curtains for the show. Please, go about your business as usual checking to make sure that your daddy is right there just over your shoulders. No, not that shoulder, the other one. Sleeping babes in toyland upon waking find comfort in food, fun and interacting with the spacial environment. Nothing like a little bumping into things here and there just for the fun of it. But you had better be ‘good’ or else the tooth fairy will come stealthily in the night and rip your heart out. Yeah, the smile and the smoking gun make good bedfellows - especially amidst all this gender confusion and moral ineptitude.
The Way To Happiness
Happiness is different for everyone. Some like it hot, some like it cold but all like it one way or another just as long as it gets delivered right to our door, preferably without having to sign for it because if we’re not at home it ain’t gonna get there. And even if we’re at home god forbid that we would miss the door bell. Oh well, just another day in paradise. For some, happiness is filling out the ‘correct’ paperwork so that our Masters will leave us alone. For others it’s work, work, working at the slave factory until we retire and thereupon give up the ghost solely because our Master has let us ‘go’. For others still there is the privilege of giving birth to another slave for the system ensuring that we were never wrong to begin with by dancing with the devil.
You’ve heard about ‘cosmic waves’ haven’t you? You know the one, about mysterious waves of energy emanating from god knows where but arriving none-the-less and making all sorts of commotion, stimulating ‘change’. Cool! Well. I’m here to tell you that as much as the New Agers want, better yet, yearn for whatever it is that is dancing in their ‘fashion sense’ heads this has nothing at all to do with one’s own little corner of the universe. And that ‘ascension’ thing just has to go, I mean where does this fairyland tale come from anyway, and no matter the level of current cgi ‘sophistication’ the painted picture is still just the same old pair of rose-colored glasses so delightfully perched upon the nose of willful imagination.
This Ain't No Planet Of Apes
The ghost of Christmas past. Or is it the ghost of a Christmas that is yet to be. I know for certain that present time is excluded but from that vantage point, oh what a view! I’m not usually physically conscious when the sun comes up but if you’ve ever seen the light with which to start a new momentous day then this is it. Please, take a moment to read and contemplate the perspective which lies just behind the words which are used to describe the entryway. It’s one of those things that can’t be said but can be pointed to and Virginia McClaughry certainly has done that for you, with great care and gentleness. I really hope that readers are able to see on through past their own convictions in order to comprehend and understand what is being said. It would make a world of difference. And in this world of constant difference, of toil, turmoil and struggle, the light of a new day is something I would very much enjoy happening. Go ahead, make my day.
This is a little note to explain something about the style of writing that I do. I do not follow rules of the so-called road preferring instead to use them as a basis of understanding in order to move past conviction, convention and any other ‘con’ in current use or fashion today. If you can imagine that 7th grade English teacher wielding the ruler of use, all prim and proper like, then you can also imagine the rogue whose aberrant behavior creates enough discomfort to curdle milk and so should be avoided at all costs. Programming is like that, stimulus response to predicable events. That is not why you are here.
Lying In Wait
Once upon a time I was alive but then I died right away. I could not bear the stupidity of make-believe aka ‘life’. It’s been said that life is what you make it but try doing that with the enemy breathing down your throat. Of course the ‘enemy’ is only yourself looking back at you in the mirror of Life and Living but what does that have to do with anything, right? I should digress at this point to fill in the blanks but that time has come, gone and displaced it’s self in the deep end of the gene pool spreading like yesterday’s foul-smelling garbage bag which has unceremoniously dumped itself all over… everything! Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see that now would we.
There is nothing to be said here. It’s just a break from the last two entries that were recently posted. Sort of like the three little dots at the end of a sentence (partial or complete). Here I’ll show you: …
If you don’t see me does that mean that I am not here? If I diminish my presence does that me that I am nothing but a lowly cur suitable for treatment fit for such? What if I regale my position of poor standing from the highest mountain tops, will that be suitable enough for reality to become manifest? Oh, I know. Becoming human should be enough, right? That ought to do the ‘trick’.