At one point I lived about 4 1/2 hours away from that famously famous place in Georgia called the 'Georgia Guidestones'1. There was an interest in taking a looky-see but at that distance it was much more advantageous to polish the telescope than to burn carbon but now that the crow flies a much shorter distance I thought that my trusty Jeep would come in handy in making the pilgrimage. I was not disappointed. Here is an account of the harrowing ordeal which I would highly recommend that those of poor constitution avoid at all costs.
The day greeted us in an overcast fashion which of course tends to hide all sorts of things in and above the rooftop. Little did I know that I didn't know that I did know just how portentous the signs were.
Traveling upon the tax-paid roads befitting commerce and profit and enjoying a good cup of coffee while my lovely wife paid due attention to the road ahead I gazed upon the sugary crumbs in my lap thinking, "My, I've done it again.". Brushing aside tit for tat I took care of business and continued watching the hustle and bustle of I-85. If haste makes waste then there sure are a lot of wasted people upon the shores of life and living trying to eke out something called an 'existence'. I thought, in my own unique thinking way, that is was against the law to drive under the influence but who am I to say being the small and unimportant speck of ignoble means that I am.
Eventually leaving the head rush of despair we exited using the only means available at the time - a nice transition to a blur-free environment. I think I left a thought or two way back there somewhere but who knows what could have happened to it by now. Some things are best left where they were conceived.
Back in the back trails life takes on a different quality with a friendly wave of a farmer here and pleasant acknowledgment there, it all means something very different. I wonder if the scurrying masses still believe in the ingrained motto of public education called mass perception that it is all for the 'safety' of all those concerned. Good thing that the back hairs of my neck get cleaned up with each hair cut or else I'd look like something out of a 50's horror movie called Jacob's ladder.
I love leaving the driving to my dear wife while I watch the road ahead. No, not the road ahead but you know, the road ahead. Instead of the tv providing entertainment I get it from all the funny beings who go bump in the day and night of carrying out individuated tasks, whatever those tasks may be. Now thats entertainment, unscripted and 'live'!
The nice thing about some road signs is that they suddenly appear out of nowhere and demand a response, especially when one is interested in playing. So according to the rules of the road sudden and perilous maneuvers are never looked upon as being unacceptable. Well, only if there is no one looking, right?
Well, I was!
I still don't like the confines of a seat belt because whenever I try to escape to the back seat I get hung up and the resulting screams tend to add to the amazing experience which unfolds for all to enjoy and perhaps use as a measure of future similar endeavors.
Anyway, there it comes like a shot out of the dark - "Georgia Guidstones"!
I'm not going to tell you what happened next. Let's just say that being abducted by aliens and waking up to realize that you have some missing time is something similar but perhaps the part about some medical experimentation thrown in could also be appropriate. Does the Grim Reaper have almond-shaped eyes or is it just my imagination that the green I see upon the floorboards is also turning my stomach as well.
The next thing I know, as I slowly open up my eyes, is Stonehenge coming fast and furious through the windshield. Luckily for me the granite curb of the parking lot has been designed to take a few bumps and bruises in the name of keeping me safe and secure. I just wish that the back seat was a bit more padded if you know what I mean.
Opps, wrong picture.
Ok, so it wasn't very impressive upon first glance but that's not what really happened. What really happened was far more, shall we say, sinister? That comes close to the experience but let me allow for you to decide. Here is what really happened.
The first part about the shot out of the dark is right but what happened next is something bizarre. As we pull up to the gate past the watchtower which was located up on top of a nearby hill, which by the way looks more like an ill-conceived ploy to hide the control tower for the obvious landing pad nearby, we informed the officer on duty that we would like permission to enter the premises in order to view the Guidestones of hope and reason.
Although he looked a bit suspiciously at us we could tell that he's been through this request many times before. Just to keep him on his toes we added that we would like to stay overnight to watch the docking that will be taking place that evening and if there was a possibility that we could watch the process from the tower, that we wouldn't get in the way in the least and wouldn't take any pictures or record the event in any way.
Unfortunately my dear wife had to pose, luckily not nakedly, in front of the cameras so as to 'document' our arrival. I really thought that we were going to be allowed in the tower!
I have to take a moment here to be brutally honest. The jeep that you see in the picture is a gratuitous shot. Ain't she a beaut! Um, yes dear, it's all about you.
Luckily I had the sense of mind to include my transportation vehicle in the picture not only because it was a lucky covert shot but because there would be a record of what happened in case, you know, in case we were 'invited' off planet or something, never to be seen from again. I'd hate to think that they have deep dark cells on base but you never know...
Once we talked our way through, acting like we were some rednecks who had just gotten bumped off the back of the truck on the way to the watermelon supermarket, we were able to freely examine, record and document whatever we wished about the stones themselves. Even though our movement was severely restricted and that damn guard tower ever present in our view, we tried to relax enough to let the story unfold, to let the Guidestones speak for themselves, so to speak - and they did!
Please don't get the wrong impression that the constant high-pitched white-noise sound which emanated throughout the air during the entire time we were there had any effect on us whatsoever. We knew the score going in and we certainly knew the score going out.
It's not a secret that some vibrations will cause a sense of reality to become distorted but it's actually much more than that. It will cause one's perception of reality to be 'programmed'. It's been embedded in sound tracks, music records and the like for quite some time already so it comes as no surprise to understand that this technology is not 'home made' but something which the 'royal' Kings and Queens of the Universe employ in order to ensure the happiness of those who have subjected themselves to being subjects.
It's the reason that the Georgia Guidestones are so much talked about and the reason that this journey was undertaken. Why delve into the made-up reality of the Internet when the illusion of reality can be experience first-hand! We've all been asleep at the wheel for far too long so why not place the turn-off sign right at the moment of such? The reason is, of course, to counteract the balance of 'waking up' with the effects of electro-magnetic pulses designed to entrain one's thoughts along the path of introspection, obfuscation and induce a dream-like state wrapped in a contrary atmosphere that just will not resolve.
As we walked counter-clockwise around the stones in the prescribed manner, the portal began to shimmer with a physicality meant purposefully for our eyes. Since the physical tends to align with a perception well beyond the body's capability of ingestion, the only way to stop it is to step through.
Once the fun starts to happen the push begins. No elbow grease required.
It's really an amazing sight to see when this is done in the correct way and in the correct order that after the door is opened one's perception takes on a different light. For some strange reason the guard station and tower disappear and the place just looks a whole lot different!
Not to get too mysterious but on our way out of the Kingdom we were given explicit instructions which could even be interpreted as warnings that if we were to disclose anything about our little 'escapade' the out of town visitors would be making sure that we find ourselves 'out of town' for a spell or two or three. I don't really know what it would be like coming face-to-face with an alternate version of myself but it sure does sound scary! But I am not distracted. I came, I saw and I covertly documented.
All the waves of nausea, vibratory displacement and yes even the injected 'truth' serum we were given on the way out were all well worth the price of admission. Here is a subversive shot I took on the 'other side', or was it this side. I can't seem to recollect properly at the moment but I am sure that the importance is still just the same as either/or.
I think that the whole thing was a set-up to make us think that the stones are just a poor man's version of a new world order's vision of fame and glory but what I really want to know is which end is up? Why does the 'top' platform reveal itself in an upside-down version. At this point I can't really figure out if that idea came from the alternate site, the damn incessant buzzing in my ears or perhaps it was my wife's driving - I'm really not all that sure. It must be the second time in my life that that has happened.
The only thing that I can really take away from all this is that if someone were to ask me about my experiences all I could honestly say is that yes, everything is true and in that matter-of-fact tone that some people have there is always a good day to be had at the ball park.
Do you see how it all plays out?
As for our return trip, I can't seem to remember much of it other than passing through some torrential downpours and widly waving my arm, pointing with my finger to the right, with the words 'turn left!' escaping my lips. I'm not quite sure what to make of that but perhaps it is just the serum wearing off. By the time we got 'home' I did feel much better but since my sense of time is non-existent I don't have anything to compare it to. Can I say that we were better off than we were before? Only an intrepid traveler can perhaps answer that question but I do know this, and well at that:
I came with my Jeep and as I look out the window it is still there.
P.S. I have left out a number of important points in the interest of brevity.
P.P.S. In good conscience I cannot omit this important photograph showing the portal peep hole where before opening the portal the timing of such must be perfect otherwise one can find themselves just spinning up a 'special' whirlwind to ill-effect. Don't ask me how I know but once it's done it's something never to be forgot.
Come close, darling.
It's been a bit since the timing of our travel to the Georgia Guidestones and even though little green aliens are taking a back seat to the 'let's eat some pork at the barbecue' ones a number of exceptions have been played out across the mind's eye as to the goings and comings in the 'nether' regions. When we last made the trip not a soul was to be found willing to execute the maneuver side-by-side but being the bait is not all that scary. At least it isn't until the fat lady sings in which case all that one can do is hope to all hell that there will be no lying about in the mistaken impression that a nice comfy couch is an invitation to sit for a spell, or two. Did I get that right? God, I hope so because crawling out from under the bus usually means that something gets left behind.
Although the stones do provide a beacon to the underwater base at Lake Hartwell finding that is like finding a needle in a haystack among the rolls of hay in the surrounding rural area. I'm just glad that we don't live downstream of the dam. But don't worry nobody knows nothing and they have the memory to 'prove' it.
The reader can wonder how this mix up came to be, how aliens, alternate universes, military brigades and chunks of granite can be all mixed and mashed together to form something, anything resembling a common sense approach to understanding these very strange and unusual phenomenon. Although our harrowing experience with such provides the impetus for some crazy driving experience I must say that on the surface and perhaps well below that, there is a sense of calm and peace which pervades the conscious thought patterns as something to be desired, fitfully sought after and fully achieved. Of course in this universe there are no completely sane people anyway so the point must be about the time we spend doing what we know best - gaining and gathering a sense of experience in the delight of just being taken alive. I'm just glad that our 'session' only lasted for a short while during the stones turning of the tide.
If one were to wonder if what has been relayed here as being true and correct then the answer must be, of course, that in seeing the pillars shimmer during that overcast day and the resulting portal push itself into this universe how can I refute the understanding that Lake Hartwell is full of something much more than just fish and little floaty boy-toys. I'm not just talking about the military here.
I'm thinking that I should sit down again with my wife and see if I can convince her to do the deed again as a sort of 'control' in this scientific experiment of human values and degradation. Something more was left behind than fragmented pieces of an insight into something which humans are not designed for. It doesn't mean that I am not human and I say that because the alternate one told me so and I tend to believe myself to the bone. My dear wife on the other hand thinks that I'm still suffering 'right left-handedness'. I cannot deny that perhaps that thought holds some validity but to accept truth one must create the belief that truth is nothing but believing that the Easter Bunny and God are one and the same. Did I get that right? I'll ask the next time.
In Final Closing
The placard found at the Georgia Guidestones (not the pedestal one but the grave marker one) lists a few things on and about the stones. According to the inscription a time capsule is buried beneath the marker.
Not the podium:
At first glance you might not see it but it is there for the eyes to see. No dates! What a shocker!
So the question becomes, is there or is there not a time capsule? Since I failed to understand the meaning of having a shovel in my Jeep (not of having a shovel but of getting the darn thing out) my digging opportunity evaded me but the reality of it is that I wouldn't dig dirt just to find out that someone is messing with my head - again.
Perhaps the granite carvers just made a mistake. Uh-huh.
This is why the stones are a monument to the petty wanna-bees of the new world order who have crossed over. Doing these sorts of things on the cheap reveals the message. A tiny little monument with someone else's idealistic world-view embedded upon them out in the middle of some unknown rural landscape barely noticed by anyone other than the few, the proud, the brave little ones who came up with a theory as to how to get in good with the 'good ones' who rule by iron, stone and fist.
Well, it is a theory, right? Even though there is the benefit of having been spun around the portal like tiny bubbles going down the drain the message is clear - use the back seat to escape the inevitable because that stupid underground base is going bye-bye.
Isn't that, after all, the message written upon stone?
Toilet paper has a good use in cleaning up certain 'undesirables' and so the fact that some would take it upon themselves to fulfill prophecy by taking into their own hands the final solution of dealing with themselves when it comes to leaving room for nature is good news indeed.
One down, one more to go.
At least that's what I was told by myself.
Who wouldn't believe in themselves, right?