Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Endless Summer and Fall (of Mankind)

The Endless Summer Before the Fall - of Mankind

(taken from The Golden Thread, Sept. 13, 2012)

L2L was right guys.  And thank you for inquiring as to whether I'm well (in many ways I haven't been, in others I've been 'better than ever').  I keep in touch with many folks here though mostly off-line, in IM, on the phone, email, etc. This is partly due to a concern that what I've been involved with is simply too sensitive to telegraph to the 'watchers' and guardians of the Coverup, who've largely been satisfied that what happens here is primarily musing over the usual concerns of the truth-seeking community, seething with indignation (justified), offering keen insights into the human condition (laudable and often quite helpful in the sharing), yet not posing a real threat to the Cover-up, which is practically in a state of free-fall into an abyss of Disclosure - finally - iced with a larding of "meh".

When I discovered how the Echelon program really works, not long ago, and how often "Echoes" are snipped from forums and forwarded to agents in the field to 'disrupt' individuals (and not individuals who are basically simply ginning up issues already in the public data-stream, endlessly gnawed over), and measured that reality to what could be gained by 'telegraphing' any findings of fact or organizing efforts that would truly threaten Majestic or the OSJ (technically more correct than "Illuminati"), I had to pause to reflect, especially after one of my most trusted sources reported that there are even agents on this very board, and then he  seemed to disappear after delving into the particulars.  It’s happened before, but this is a rather long spell.

Does that mean I was "scared away"?  No, although it's a practical reaction when such a thing is made plain to you. Like when (allegedly   ) Lord Hill-Norton announced the (again, alleged   ) "F-5" on the pages of this GT in early 2004.....a real "stick in the mud" for me, as he opined then.  No, there's something deeper going on.

I, and a great many of people I suspect, are less on the "edge of our seats" for a ring-side seat to the apocalypse, and spending more time on the emotional relationships we have.  I always consider whether what I'm experiencing is simply a personal evolution, due to the rites of passage at certain ages and situations, or whether or not they reflect a more universal experience.  I have to be careful (as do the rest of you) that I don't attempt to speak for all of us here or the greater communities to which we belong so in that sense I agonize over whether a subject or factoid is worth spending the time on.

I'm speaking now of emotional relationships, and how I feel I've been more focused on them than on what I'd previously been so excited about, but now feel so....'alienated' about, pun intended.  And I'm thinking that in a strange way we are all going through a slow-motion almost-static state at the end of a long say 3,657-year journey, or maybe a 26,000-year sojourn even as our lives may seem either more mundane or stressful.  But no matter how many life-times we each may have gone through, we’re all involved in one way or another in emotional relationships of all types and kinds.  And even though these days we have the impersonality of text on a screen, they are still real relationships and many of us are now so interconnected with video, audio, etc. that those relationships can often supercede those in “real life”.

Or maybe I just got put out to pasture by the same forces entrapping the power elite right now, the ones that are wondering if their long-fought fight to hide the truth from us is almost over, but they're only allowed to think they're winning for a bit longer.

Except they have the resources, endless access to them or at least much more so than the average person.  And they’re still too resistant to allowing the full truth to come out.

Which I see remains essentially this;

That mankind is about to undergo a poleshift, culminating in a not-quite-extinction-level event that will leave only a small remnant of humanity, while a new model of humanoid will take over the earth post-poleshift.  I have to get over it.  So do we all, and so we are doing.  But it doesn’t make us happy.

In the meantime, for purposes that elude even the most good-hearted among us, we’re experiencing a delay.  This makes me somewhat happy.

That now knowing the names and identities of the elite, including the elusive and so-called “Puppetmaster”, will profit us nothing.  (He’s 82 plus or minus a year at the moment, allegedly…..allegedly.)  He and I share something very basic and yet something very special.  Does that mean anything?  I honestly don’t know any more, yet I’ve seen where it all goes and yet I can’t do justice to it to attempt to describe it.  I just know that the awareness of this information, in and of itself, along with the locations of where they will attempt to gain safety, may do some good in the universal consciousness and will lead to an accounting before the lot of us are condemned to the abyss.  While that may sound overly dramatic to some, they simply haven’t fully contemplated the plausibility (and probability) of an event that will permanently destroy this electronically-

My anger is still white-hot and formed out of the never-ending quest for “compassionate truth”.  So is yours I bet, many of you.

Would it do any good to tell you that I could apprehend the humans that are yet at in control of our material world, had I only the power of the angels – or the zetas or pleidians or sirians or orionites – were I to bring them to us and gently usher them to the courtroom bar?  We all know they haven’t gone that far (yet), but I kept trying to take the next step and then…….a free fall, I’ve done something, yet I haven’t done as much as might be expected, and I despair.

I went through brief spells when I felt enervated enough to write a few songs, plod (and plot) along with the story of this GT in its early days and yet never once using my Dragon talk-to-text magic-wand.  It sits next to where I am now, and I wonder why haven’t I used it?  I went through a brief spell of adding apps to my smart-phone, with the power to create whole symphonies, yet I can’t even bring myself to muster the emotional energy to finish a whole song. 

Is it lassitude?  Or are we in an “endless summer” like the so-called Summer of ’39, the calm before the storm?  Yet when you google Summer of ’39, you get this: Review

Miranda Seymour is best known as a biographer, having written lives of Henry James, Robert Graves, and Bloomsbury beanpole (and patroness) Ottoline Morrell. In The Summer of '39, however, she takes the raw material of fact and turns it into disturbing, artful fiction. Her novel recycles a literary legend--the disastrous visit of Graves and Laura Riding to a young American couple shortly before the Second World War. But instead of serving up a merely scandalous roman à clef, the author has delivered an extraordinary spin on betrayal and manipulation.
Seymour's young Americans, Nancy and Chance Brewster, do indeed have an awful time with their guests (whom the author has rechristened Charles Neville and Isabel March). But Nancy, who narrates the novel, is no less intent on recalling the years before the British invasion. First we hear about her loveless childhood, during which she is sexually abused by her father. Then Nancy recounts her marriage to hapless literary wannabe Chance. Clearly their relationship is a tenuous one: he extracts money from her, she extracts glimmers of emotional strength from him (when, that is, he's not off on one of his mysterious trips). As if that weren't enough, the couple also gets involved with a psychological-cult leader, who sets the stage perfectly for the arrival of the houseguests from hell.
Nancy recalls the whole mess as an old woman, who's retelling her past as a way to exorcise it. She's acutely sensitive to her surroundings but incapable of understanding them, not to mention herself: "I still love the peace I get from routine, the neat, repetitive creation of order and lines. Apples lying tidily shrouded, six by twelve, gave me the same satisfaction I take in drilling a straight row of seed, or folding the corners under on a clean linen sheet. I like visible results." As we discover, she's also prone to inappropriate remarks and is busily cementing her reputation as a dislikable, aging oddball. Yet Seymour develops the back-and-forth narrative with an expert hand (if, occasionally, a heavy one in the metaphor department). The actual visit, which mounts to an eerie psychological assault on the entire family, is powerful piece of storytelling. And you thought you had the summertime blues! --Teri Kieffer

Do you have the ‘summertime blues’?  Did you do anything this summer?  Did anyone do anything really special this summer, those of us in the northern hemisphere anyway?  I feel in some way I should have done more than what I did, because in so many ways I haven’t moved ahead, I’ve been in a state of almost “endless summer”, before the fall….before the Fall of Mankind.  And that stark thought brings me up short, and I think of all the physical (but not spiritual) descendants of the bloodline of the (alleged, albeit) Jesus Christ, quivering in their luxurious soft-sofa bunker sites as they anxiously strain to see every moment on their wall-size plasma screens.  Joined by Joe n’ Jane in front of theirs.  How different is that?  Joe n’ Jane may dine on burgers and hamburger-helper, while the royals dig into stuffed shrimp and Chilean bass, with vintage Merlots and Chablis.  No table wine for them! But what’s the difference now, except in the cheap caloric pound-adding proletarian foodstuffs and the more elegant delicacies of the rich?

There IS no difference.  They are equally disgusted or enamored.  The trenches should all be equally shallow and equally deep.

There is so little time, yet time is endless, and we’re in a free-fall.  A free fall of summer before the possibly (allegedly) permanent winter.  I think the ‘victory’ represented by a relatively average 12/12/2012 will be a hollow one, and that it’ll be a much longer winter than anticipated.

Enjoy this encore while we have it.

Surf's up for William Shatner's Negotiator, back on duty in new Priceline commercial

Have you seen this? From the Starship to surfing...Classic. And also a reminder how mainstream surfing has become worldwide.

The story is by LYNN ELBER in Los Angeles. William Shatner's Priceline Negotiator isn't a goner, after all. He just went surfing.

Seven months after a commercial showed the Negotiator plunging off a cliff and into apparent oblivion, the company is resurrecting him in a new 30-second TV and online spot debut last Thursday.

A clever parody of a world-weary spy who vanishes to start a new life, the commercial opens with Shatner standing on a beach, gazing somberly at the ocean company man (actor Allan Louis) approaches him.... 

"You've been busy for a dead man," he tells Shatner. "After you jumped ship in Bangkok, I thought I'd lost you."

"Surfing is my life now," replies Shatner, who is formally dressed in a business suit, shirt and tie. But his pant(s)s legs are rolled up [hint, hint] and he's got a surfboard tucked under his arm.

The Negotiator, ignoring entreaties to resume work, neatly manages a Priceline plug ("even faster, easier ways to save money" on travel) before dashing toward the Malibu waves.

Turns out Priceline just couldn't do without him.

"We had such a positive response to the ad where we appeared to throw him over a cliff that we wanted to find a creative way to bring him back," said Brett Keller, chief marketing officer for

When last seen, the Negotiator was rescuing vacationers from a bus teetering on a bridge's railing. "Save yourselves — some money," he said, handing off his cellphone as he and the bus tumble into a dry creek bed. A violent explosion followed.

When the spot first aired in January, the company didn't know if or how the Negotiator would return, and neither did Shatner, Keller said.

The new ad from the Butler, Shine, Stern & Partners agency doesn't address how the Negotiator survived, but Shatner, 81, offers his preferred fantasy: "A beautiful girl gave me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."....Read the rest of the story by the Republic below:

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