Scarlett — I do give a damn

Chapter !

I am a thinker and philosopher-kind of person.

Every little nuance I catch I analyze. I’ve been doing this all my life since a little girl. I live great experiences in my imagination. Einstein said that imagination is all important, even moreso than knowledge, which is a huge recommendation.

Our culture though, stymies imagination. Something took hold of society and turned its mind to ugly things. Yet this world we live on could very well have been meant for our enjoyment. We still argue about whether it’s spherical or flat and there are theories for and against on both sides. The rub is we really don’t know too much about ourselves.

I was always an easy-going person. For a while I studied the stock market. I read all the financial papers and I had all my finances under control. I was going to try my hand at investing. But I wanted to study it first while dabbling a little money in it. After seeing what a whacko world finance was, I began to see so many holes in our system. I worked in commercial real estate in Boston and could see commercial property prices soaring for no good reason. Properties were being bought and sold left and right. Even after one year, the property my company managed appreciated 30M more they had to fork out than one year prior. No new revenues, it was all perception and trying to get in and make that quick buck. It was madness. I could see it. I recall reading in the Wall Street Journal at the time about Michael Burry, the founder of Scion Capital, the hedge fund manager who shorted the sub prime bond market and who was depicted in the movie “The Big Short”.

At the start of 2008 I used to argue with contractors at my work in Boston about how bad things were financially. They were doing great guns though and wouldn’t have any of it — said I was paranoid, it’s nowhere near as bad as I was thinking. If it wasn’t for the fact that I remember having tense conversations about it at work with my (woman) boss looking at me askance, it may have slipped my memory that I saw the financial crisis coming and warned of a collapse. I knew it would be big too because the valuations were going nutso. Plus, terms were coming due for the new hip way to finance housing with balloon interest — low interest up front with a big spike at the end of the initial term.

When it all went belly up in September 2008 I remember those days so well. I used to meet a young stockbroker on the train who worked for State Street Bank. We would discuss the craziness of the stock market. He was half my age and we would talk about how rare honesty and trust were in this business. I remember saying to him trust will be the most valuable commodity soon.

When the market crashed, the next day I rode the train to Boston as usual and the passengers were in a trance. They of course were now fully aware of the seriousness of the markets. Nobody was talking. I recall sitting at my seat and welling with emotion. With anger. With frustration. It was like something was going to erupt. Paulson was saying the banks were going to be bailed out at the tune of 700B. No! The markets must crash or it will have huge implications and distortions. The banks must not be let to get away with it. I had to say something. But what? I answered myself by imagining walking through the carriages saying something to give the commuters a message. The government was going to put the bill through immediately. I only had a matter of 2 seconds to get something out, the message had to be crystal clear. What to say?

After tossing ideas over and over with haste, “Call your congressman” was what I settled upon. Because I really didn’t know what else we could do in such a situation. That was in the days when I believed in congressmen. I had the wherewithal to time it right so that I could casually get off at the next stop - South Station.

Before any more thought was put into it I stood up and put my quilted backpack on my shoulders, the one I took to work with me daily which replaced the usual female pocketbook, and which had all my affairs nicely compartmentalized inside. And I began walking the isles of the train. I didn’t give myself any time to consider how ridiculous I might have seemed or what responses I might garner. I just got up and did it. I spoke to each side of the isle as the train was traveling into Boston, to all the business people sitting reading their newspapers on their way to work. The atmosphere was quiet/somber. Passengers looked up from their newspapers and above their eyeglass frames, to see what the disturbance was as I looked them right in the eye and said “Call your congressman”. I said it to the people on the left aisle seats and then the people on the right isle seats and I kept on saying this while walking through the carriages, not waiting for any chance for them to respond. I kept that pace further through the train repeating it over and over as I traversed the aisles until we got to Boston. And then I got out like a normal everyday ordinary commuter. The stares on their faces is with me to this day. They were stunned, not just by me, they were speechless. They didn’t understand what was going on. Nobody was smiling.

I couldn’t believe I did something like that. What the hell drove me? I was a total quivering ball of emotion. I got to work and I asked my boss if she had seen the news. My body was quivering with emotion. She said, “Go home Denise, just go home”. She could see I was in such a mess. I wasn’t crying but very intensed (sic)

I wasn’t going to go home — no fucking way! I had so much energy in me I just had to do more. What to do though? It was a fine day in Boston and I was dressed like a typical corporate clone — long black trench coat, tied at the waist, dark slacks with white blouse and black jacket. I always liked to dress well. I had corporate clothes on so I knew I didn’t look very threatening. I thought I would buy a board and a marker and walk around Boston with a message and ask people I bumped into about the bank bailout.

This was the very day after Hank Paulson’s announcement asking for a 700B dollar bailout for the banks — the very banks that had actually caused the crash! Stunning effrontery. We didn’t know what would happen if the banks failed, they made it seem like catastrophe but really the catastrophe was that we didn’t let them fail.

Elizabeth Warren was on the panel that awarded the TARP (Troubled Asset Relief Program) to the banks. Don’t you just love the way they word their snafu’s — “troubled asset”. Liberals who pretend to care about “the common man” have no idea how the common man lives. I nearly took a double take when I found that Paul Krugman was a sitting member of the Committee of 300, a powerful global council that make decisions about commerce, banking, media, and the military “for centralized global efforts”. He sits alongside notables such as the Rothschild’s, several monarchs, and world billionaires including Warren Buffett. So much for his grass roots liberal spitina. He wrote the book, “Proud to be a Liberal”. I had the book. I used to be a proud liberal and that Krugman was for real.

Though I looked approachable as I’m short I needed something to keep the whole thing on a lighthearted note — everyone was tense about it enough as it was. I thought I needed a hat to make myself look totally approachable. I thought some kind of baseball hat, that usually greets people well in Boston. I stopped at one of those ubiquitous and irritating baseball hat stores at South Station. For someone who cares about the planet and wastage, to see what is being manufactured for such petty whims makes my heart do a dive. I wanted a green hat because I was so into greening the world and they had one that looked acceptable, mainly white with green patterns on it. I also bought a matchstick size US flag to quell any idea of terrorism — after 911 that was the new ethos of city society. I stuck the flag in the center of the hat. Then went off to buy a board and marker.

Once I had all my equipment, I had to decide what to put on the sign. Hmm.

I planned to walk around Boston during the day and at peak hour go stand in front of South Station where squillions of commuters will be able to see my sign. The wording had to be brief, it had to convey something important that could be interpreted easily and unambiguously. But what? I didn’t know whether the bailouts should be given or not. We had very little time to think about it. Paulson pounded out the panic — quick, quick, the sky is falling, the world will collapse if the banks go down.

This state of urgency made me suspicious. It sounded like one of those greasy sales gimmicks — “buy it now before they’re sold out”. I didn’t want people to fall into making a hasty decision. I was beginning to see what these slimes were about. So I ended up making the sign say something like wait two days before deciding. Something like that. I walked around Boston that day with a stupid hat on and that sign almost as big as my body, and talked to people that I bumped into. At the end of the day I went to South Station as planned and stood outside. A nice woman in about her 70’s stood and talked to me. I might have looked silly but I knew my stuff then and could talk about finance as well as any expert. Well into our conversation, a Bloomberg reporter stood and talked with us. He was very charming and wanted to check out if I really knew what I was talking about. He asked me what LIBOR stands for which of course was elementary.

That was the way I spent the day after the announcement of the 2008 crash. Funnily enough, one of the contractors at my workplace who was singing Dixie before the crash, ended up losing his house and embroiled in a tough foreclosure battle, his demeanor very much changed. I felt sad for him.

The rest of it is history. A few years after the crash, I joined a group of “casual economists” one might call them, scholars and visionaries about money and politics. It took a while to see through the circuitousness of what money is really all about and in those days we were all learning from each other. There I learned about the Federal Reserve and interest and principle, in depth. We would discuss for hours and we enjoyed each other’s company immensely. We met monthly for about four years, sometimes going to the host’s house at an island in Maine. We would sometimes jest that we were similar to the meetings at Jekyll Island in North Carolina, the meeting of the bankers who created the Federal Reserve. But only because we were on an island and we were talking about putting together a template for a better society. One of the group “JR” had started an alternative digital currency which had been met with slow but steady success in Greenfield MA. For about a year I would spend one day of the week staffing their office in Main Street and talking to people who came in, about using rCredits. They have since changed their name to Common Good Earth. It’s been a few years since I have been involved with them but they are a really wonderful group of people who care deeply about society and building a world they know is possible. All of us in the group were like that. It was a powerful group to be a part of.

Most in the group were scholars or writers except myself and another member. He had a farmhouse close to Boston which needed some work. I would go over and help him make some cosmetic improvements to his house. We used rCredits as the exchange medium. It was so much fun to be using them and not Federal Reserve notes. rCredits offered a bonus of 10% at that time, as a reward for using the currency and giving it life. This makes a whole lot of sense. We need to move towards systems that make sense. And get off the bankster’s economy.

Having delved into this territory of money and stocks, and being a person who is constantly seeing patterns, I barely could believe how insane it all was, how it made absolutely no sense at all. Except it did make sense if you wanted to siphon the money to banksters. Yes in that case the whole tangled ball of snot did make sense. I began to be sickened by money and what money does to the human heart and mind. It removes all morality. If you have money you can buy anyone and anything almost without accountability or responsibility. You can decimate the earth. To top it off, the monied classes are revered by the poorer classes and indeed, many aspire to being just as monied as the very ones they condemn. So it feels like we’re in a continuous loop of insanity.

A few years ago I started doing something without too much forethought. I am so glad I did but it hasn’t been easy. Sometimes too much forethought prevents action. I stopped paying banks and government charges. I closed my bank accounts, I lived on the cash and barter economy. I also used the alternative money system JR started and which is now more commonly used in the particular area it began in, which I’m happy about because any time bankster’s money is avoided, is a good thing. However the currency in Common Good credits is still dependent on the US dollar and therefore not as independent of it as another currency I prefer, (NumeroSet) Always — getting off Federal Reserve notes is better than staying on them so whatever currency floats one’s boat…as long as we start using a currency that is off the banking system, that is moving in the right direction, and I’m all for that.

Ideally it would be good to stick to about 3 or 5 various currency platforms otherwise we will be too fragmented and won’t get enough people to trade with. If we are too sprinkled over many platforms, we’d have to log in and out of various platforms to make exchanges. It would be ok if kept to a minimum. We can have hundreds of currencies but we need ideally 2 to 3 main ones that most can be on. It’s a bit like social media — you can try to get away from facebook but the other ones just don’t have the number of people. Facebook is really a most incredible public utility but it needs to be condemned for its censorship.

I have always done everything by the book although socially, since way back, I have been known as “unconventional”. But this phase of my life was taking it to another level. I didn’t pay vehicle registration, fines or any bills from government — why pay to be poisoned — right? I paid electric bills and internet bills with the little money I saved when I worked and kept in cash at home. I worked on farms in the summer in exchange for food and that made costs for food really go down. I went into my retirement and 401k funds. I was convinced by the time it was due the entire world would be very different and the economy would be replaced. Of course it has taken much longer than I expected.

Later on I ended up with a dog, Ajax, who has been my constant companion throughout my odyssey. He belonged to a friend of my son’s who lived in Charlestown with a few guys. The one who owned Ajax was returning to Denmark. Ajax is one of the most handsome dogs I’d seen. My son would bring him over sometimes, before I took guardianship, and Ajax would lie on the couch and lap up all the love my son and I foisted on him. “He’s so perfect isn’t he”, I recall my son saying. Funny how the little love bugs get a hold of our entire life. I would do anything for Ajax. No matter if I say to myself, “No, no, you’ve gone too far this time Ajax — I am not going to chase you through the swamps. Come back, come back” which of course he never did come back because he was off on some scent and nothing would pull him away. He is majestic and has full confidence in himself. I have seen him lose confidence on occasion and it is interesting to watch. My relationship with Ajax is almost central to my story. Ajax is my connection to the animal world. He is helping me expand into my true nature. He helps me see things through the animal’s perspective and thus the web of life language.

I can’t recall too much how I managed the money then, it was always so frugal but I never expected money from anyone. I always would work in exchange for things. I’m capable, I can do a lot of things — none of them well, as I like to quip. My ex had stopped paying alimony and I would never go to government for anything so life had to change for me.

I kept my purchases to only buying used things or looking for things for free. I didn’t need much though. I had everything already. Believe it or not, living life like this is much more fun than going to the store and buying “merchandise”. Yuck. I could upchuck just thinking about it - shopping in those stores with the people talking at you so insipidly. And their recordings of sales pitches as you shopped. They have you as a captive audience — you have to go there to buy food. First they limit everything, then they force you to listen to their vile advertisements. Corporations would suck the blood out of us if they could. They wouldn’t be talking to you so fawningly if you didn’t have money that they wanted you to give to them. It was like being lured into a lair — all the products in supermarkets lined up waiting in perfect rows for you to pick that one above the others. Almost everything packaged without a single thought to its wastage. Supermarkets are horror houses to me. Styrofoam all through the meat department like nobody has heard what that does to the environment. But worse, cut up bodies of animals tortured daily from the moment of birth and given all sorts of pharmaceuticals to keep them from infections because of being forced to live in such decrepit conditions. Horror through and through. Don’t even mention the lobsters squashed up on top of each other in tanks at the fish section living their lives away like that and nobody even cares. Imagine these practices throughout the countless number of supermarkets throughout the countless number of cities and towns throughout the earth.

I went into a TJMax store a few months ago and it was like walking into another world — I haven’t been to those stores in years but I used to go to them often when I lived near them. When I walked into this one this night, it was like stepping back into another chamber of my life, one I had totally forgotten. Just the smell brought it all back and the harsh lighting and merchandise laid out for one’s choosing. It was disgusting. It made me stop and realize how much I have changed over the last few years. A friend told me today that I have changed drastically since he’s known me.

Driving around without registration and knowing about it takes some hutzpah let me tell you. I had to think of something to tell myself that would allow me to enjoy this odyssey I chose to take of not paying the banks etc. The words of Bill Hicks were constantly redolent in my ears “Life is just a ride”. I could see life like that sometimes but many times I felt pummeled by its twists and turns.

I would of course have to drive past many police cars. I had to prethink the strategy I would use in order to turn my brain to be able to handle it with hutzpah if it ever occurred, and in a way that elevated me and made me giggle a bit too. After all life’s a ride right? I needed to have something ready to pull up in my mind should I be pulled over by a cop. I would concoct these strategies before going to bed or while I was driving around. Driving around always seemed to inspire my thoughts. I bought a recorder so I could capture these thoughts that were quite elusive and new to me, thoughts that I had never thought before. Or heard before. Although I could see that many of my original thoughts were fusions of other people’s thoughts, making a new individual thought, just like when we make a baby — two individuals (parents) one male one female, produce a baby, a new individual, that is like no other individual. Not a clone, but an individual one-time edition. I love how nature made it so that we would be greeted into this world by two people not just one.

I remember those first days when I would go over the bridge that goes over the Quinsigamond River in Worcester when it was still in construction. Turned out a gorgeous bridge actually. There would be construction crews and police cars everywhere and traffic would often be stationary for long stretches so I had to make sure I had my cool with me.

Doing the work I do as an activist and researcher I knew all too well the ability of the mind to be molded. You only have to know about MK Ultra to see that. So I knew that I could also mold my own mind.

I had to come up with an idea to be able to think in a way that supported what I truly believed. My new beliefs were conscious of the bigger picture than just being a citizen or a worker. I am a native of this very planet we walk on, with no special or lesser ability to live life in the way I see fit. Just like everyone else whom I grant that same freedom to. I didn’t ask the man to wear that stupid uniform. I’d been saying for years, change the colors you morons, make yourselves more friendly if you’re going to go around caring about us so much. How about yellow shirts and orange trousers instead of that Neanderthal, dominator blue? And, it shits me, it really shits me, that some stranger who has absolutely no connection to me at all and has no care about whether I live or die or suffer, can come into my face as I drive down the road and demand I show him my somethings or whatevers which nobody needs anyway unless you’re using the car for commercial purposes. But people don’t know that. They can still extort money out of you if you don’t know, you know.

It happened on a few occasions too. Sometimes I would go into their face. I recall the time I was at one of the local parks I would take Ajax to. We were just about to get into the car, but Ajax kept walking around and he walked behind a cop car who drove in to patrol the area (for what reason I don’t know, it was such a safe town, nothing ever happened there) Ajax knows to keep away from cars but of course the cop being so caring and all, yelled over to me, “Hey see the sign there — you’ve got to put the leash on the dog”. I walked up to his open window and rested my elbows on the door, I looked at him and asked “Who cares about signs?” or something like that. And he advised me to go fight that out with my representative. I laughed, and said — as if that has any effect. Which made him feel pretty uncomfortable. I have this effect on telemarketers too which I love — they can’t wait to get away from me. He said his job is to enforce the law or some such twaddle, which only admits they are nothing more than robots, men without a brain.

It still made me weird whenever I saw a cop and I would see many of them. I tried to keep my blood pressure normal. It’s amazing if people counted them they would be amazed how many cops are present. People go around like everything is peachy. They have no clue about what is being done to them up the arse. No clue. It is maddening to see cops waiting by the roadside in some concealed spot that you travel past sometimes, waiting for us to make a wrong move. I could literally spit chips when I see them do this. I would like it if we the people could coalesce and use an app that would let others know when a cop was pulling over a driver. And people in that area or on that highway, would pull up behind the car that was pulled up and sit there in a line as witnesses, while the cop handles the matter. This would make the patsy that just got pulled over feel a million times better and supported by his fellows. And it would make the cop know he is being watched.

My mind always veers towards solutions, to other ways that would be better than the ways we practice today. But people are so hamstrung and immobilized, frozen into thinking they are powerless. And so — they are.

The educated, the uneducated, black or white, most people have absolutely no clue about what is going on outside of their immediate circle let alone the ripples further out in the collective illusion they get fed from media, government, education and corporations, those who have all the advantages on their side and still can’t produce anything decent.

I still think with fondness of some of the encounters I had with cops though. The one where they stole my Lucretia. I was driving home after my show at the community radio station in Worcester when I was stopped by a cop (damnit — only five minutes from home!) He came to my window. It was dark about 11.30pm. He started telling me about my light being out. Lucretia was getting a bit old and some things were starting to go. She was a fabulous car we had so many good years together and she was just right for my needs. I also had Amity in the console a stout piece of amethyst, my birth stone, for all it matters. I said thank you to the cop and gestured I wanted to continue driving. He asked for my license and I asked him how would he feel if the constitution were written only by women. And he answered something that completely threw me for a loop. He said something like “I think that would be great” I said something like “I like that answer but I’m not happy about men making laws they think I should follow” and of course he went off to call for reinforcements. But he was so sweet about it.

I sat there making the best of my philosophy of “Be Here Now” which I think is so tremendously key, by speaking into my recorder which I took everywhere to record my thoughts, the essence of my life. I like to keep a record of them, it’s a lot of fun and sometimes the thoughts are so elusive it’s good to journal them. I’ve always kept a journal where I write and write and write, but with being on the computer so much, I tend to not write by hand much at all. Though I love handwriting and love drawing calligraphy. I taught myself how to make all of my times happy, even in difficult moments like now. I heard a knock on my closed window and turned my head to look at the person looking back at me. It was another cop and the smile on his face was liquefying. I don’t know how else to say it. His face was so lovely. He had this — Life is Beautiful/Jimmy Stewart smiling face. I was instantly captivated.

They informed me that they were taking the car and compounding it as I didn’t have insurance. I said I would be happy to have had insurance but they’re in cahoots with each other and if the car isn’t registered you can’t get insurance (It’s basically gang warfare) I don’t pay registration. They didn’t offer me a chance to pay for insurance right there which would have been the 21st century thing to do. Instead they proceeded to confiscate my car. The one I had worked and paid for in full and was mine. The one I held the title for.

They offered if they could help me with Ajax or helping to take any possessions that I needed from the car before it would be towed away. This was on Route 9 — a two-laned highway at around midnight by now. I kept reminding them that they were stealing my car. But they were very nice about it. Is this not twisted? I actually felt wow, if you’re going to be pulled up by cops it couldn’t be by any nicer guys. They drove Ajax and me home and stopped in for a short chat. We were getting along famously!

The next day of course I was without a car.

I had to do my shopping on foot from then on. I had to take Ajax with me everywhere because he was plagued by really bad abandonment issues. Actually he was always a good companion and we would sometimes get into some pickles and adventures. One time I was coming home on a hot day with two bags of shopping (these were big canvas bags not those disgusting throw-away plastic bags which I revile the use of and the continued acceptance of their use) and a cop was directing traffic in the main part of town. He was another sweet cop and looked at me as I approached with a look that said “hmm what does this woman want?” Nobody really approaches cops…

I walked towards him and said up to him as he was tall, “Know why I’m doing the shopping like this?” pointing to the two heavy bags on my shoulders and Ajax on a leash. And he looked quizzed. I said “Because the Westboro police stole my car”. He didn’t know what to say but he had another warm face like James Stewart, damnit. Leaving him with that look of perplexed confusion as I stared him down while I walked off, I continued on home. Why didn’t I just go by and say nothing, you might ask. Because then it would be nothing. Saying something to at least one other person, makes it something. If it just stays in your head, nobody can know and hence, we haven’t progressed. For progress to take place, we need to share our ideas.

Those days now feel like long-ago memories. I was just a fledgling at this routine then, but I cherish all my memories. I love memories. I love recalling times and dwelling on memories. I like to dwell on them awhile and relive their emotions and notice the difference in my thinking compared to today. Things are always changing. We need time to marvel because all around us is so marvelous. Nothing will be the same tomorrow even though it might feel the same.

The realm we’re in constantly inspires my curiosity. One of the most moving epiphanies I had was a few years ago when I suddenly cognized the question — what if we really are the writers of our own stories? What if we’re living in a story book? A storybook with fractals of stories all woven seamlessly together? What if this is a hologram and we are programs running on what we say to ourselves?

This thought had a huge effect upon my thinking. If this were true then it shifted everything I had ever thought. It shifted my perception of where I stood in the realm of things. I began to look at the world differently, as though I am a piece on a game board and the game was nature. I saw my fellow humans as other Avatars — biological programs that carried out their beliefs. And realizing that they didn’t realize this. Their perceptions were that they were a teacher or a carpenter or a stock broker or a mother or a father. They didn’t realize they are spacecrafts built with many onboard features that were laying idle.

The thoughts and perceptions have been fed to us through television and media and schooling and parents. When you see this, your whole world changes. You realize how narrowed we’ve been taught to be.

It slays me how some people’s lives stay the same for decades. Sometimes I think it might be grand because of the stability. I often advise my female friends who are thinking of leaving reasonable relationships to think twice before giving up a stable home and future. Find a way to solve relationship problems because they are so common and will probably recur with somebody else. Single life is not pretty. I don’t know what it’s like for males but for females it’s daunting and often, it’s better to relinquish the pursuit — you get more done with your life. The availability for good men is like the market for roosters. Very few men are women-friendly and women are giving up because the sex isn’t that good to have to put up with all the (what we call) bullshit. Our culture is arranged like a big sandbox for machos — you could’t get an education if you were female but you could always get a gun. Women just don’t get this though. We’re not interested in guns even if they’re available to us. It’s like males are not interested in nail polish. It’s there for them but they just don’t take it up. Of course I’m not referring to everyone, that would be a silly notion. There will always be exceptions but we must look at the 80% factor not the exceptions if we are to be able to determine things with clarity. If women gave up their guns, violence wouldn’t budge by a point. But if men gave up their guns, it would change crime statistics phenomenally.

While I’m on it I’ll mention the idea of the Goldilocks Ratio. To me, the ratio of 80:20 is the most perfect ratio most of the time. You see — do the right thing 80% of the time but leave yourself a little wiggle room for being imperfect, for being human. That takes a lot of pressure off the mind. So 20% is to indulge yourself a bit. Or looked at in terms of a relationship — it might not be perfect but what percentage do you feel is good? If it’s 80% then that’s a pretty good percentage in my way of thinking. But you may want more or less. We’re here to play!

There was another encounter with a cop a few years after when I was living with “CP ”in Brattleboro on the main road. We were sitting in the little room at the front of the house where it had a window that enabled us to see the traffic out front. That room CP dubbed “The Senior Citizen’s Room” and it always made us giggle when we referred to it. That was a most pleasant room to sit in, just small enough to be cozy and get warmed up quickly, well decorated but homely, just like a room you often see in retirement homes. Put like that doesn’t sound very nice but it was cozy and comfy. CP had flair with décor. He wasn’t gay at all. He grew up with three sisters, he being the youngest and the only boy. I’m sure he was revered since birth. He grew up in a very white middle class family. Really nice people but do everything by the book. His ego became legendary between us.

He was an activist like me but he was much more inured to remain in the matrix. He did things “the right way” to avoid any disturbance to his freedom he would spout. That was kind of the way he justified it all, rather loopily in my view. He and I had just hosted Christopher Bollyn and his wife, Helje. The two of them were a delight. Christopher gives such compelling presentations on 9/11 and Israel’s part in it. We hosted a talk by Christopher in the town of Brattleboro in the library and it caused rather a stir. That’s when I got to see how Zionists do things. It’s good to see their pattern. They prevented a previous talk of his from being held in three venues. One venue would be booked, and close to the date of the event, a Zionist would call the venue and cause a stir with the management by accusing Christopher of being antisemitic. It’s funny isn’t it, as if that is cause to remove someone’s right of free speech. The proper response if you want to address hatred is to speak to it not try to close it down. And preferably, speak to it with rationale if hatred offends you so. Zionists avoid that course where they come up against their peers and everyone can have their say and people can determine things for themselves. No, censors are like that, they decide what gets talked about. They always have to have the advantage, they cannot win on an even-playing field. Try getting Zionists to have a debate on it. Be careful that everyone doesn’t fall for that anti-semitism sympathizer shit. It is time the rest of the world woke up to these shenanigans and called them for what they are. It’s not antisemitism, it’s research. Do Zionists think they are beyond reproach? Why can any other religion or nation be criticized but not this group? We’d be against anyone else who does what they do. So they can murder and steal land and they think they cannot be criticized because they are of a certain demographic? But if someone stood for anti-Muslimism, they’ve be licking their chops.

They hide amongst us so we can’t tell who they are. I’m talking about psychopaths. They try to get us to do things the way they do, the twisted ways they do, to make what they do become acceptable, the norm. If the rest of humanity is doing it it gives them more confidence that twistedness is good. It is so twisted that this line of thinking will go on until everything becomes so bizarre that our minds get all spun out. We won’t be able to tell what is wrong and what is right. They can have us believing anything. Like what is going on with genders. My heart sinks when I hear stories of young children being taught to dislike their bodies and their gender. This has been happening to women since time infinitum, whether it was to squash their feet into bindings or wear a bra, women’s natural bodies have never been acceptable to misogynists. And due to women being responsive more than leading, women have succumbed to the images of what men find beautiful. Notice nubile breasts is one of them? Women are expected to have nubile uplift well into old age. I can’t blame men for finding breasts beautiful though. They really are an artist’s dream. (And so functional too!)

Schools are asylums today even moreso than in my day. I thought they were crazy then — gulags — they haven’t advanced much at all. The systems are all the same — those stupid yellow and black buses. Why are children going to school five days a week now that we have the internet? Why are people going to work five days a week now that we have the internet? Does new technology confer no beneficial consequences?

Imagine if school was handled online for one day per week (to get things started) Students could watch videos of the lesson and if it was done in “real time” the teacher could interact with the class by hearing questions and giving answers. Discussions could be held as well. The potential for massive information accessibility would be unleashed. We are not doing enough with what we’ve got. We are waiting for government to do something but it never will unless its survival is at stake. Government will move if it knows it is up against massive public anti-sentiment. But it will only move minimally. I wish people would look at history.

But people are not sure what to do. I can feel that. Everyone is trying to maintain peace while they’re peddling so hard, they’re exhausted. But really what is going on is that the stuff they’ve been sweeping under the carpet is falling due. Exhausted by the petty mandates they feel they have to fulfill, they’ve no time for contemplation or reflection. This is as designed, so you never get to see what is really going on, you’re too tired from just getting the minutiae done. Life is about a series of minutia that have nothing to do with living in a fulfilled state. Still today after decades of car technology, we are driving around having to worry about getting cars fixed or getting them registered. There has been no new system in all these years. By now we should be able to drive a car into a station, get the offending part changed out and drive off again. Or have very fast public transportation that drives cleanly off renewable or magnetic energy.

The controllers are losing their grip because people are starting to wise up. But we still don’t really know what to do. Lots of people have got a project or group they are active in. Most people understand the dire situation that we’re in. Yet most people still neglect to take a reusable grocery bag to the store. Such a simple thing that shows you care for your life support system. And they still don’t do it. This needs to be brought out into the consciousness. People can do a lot more than they think.