Monday, July 30, 2007

The story of O

I made some orgone blasters the other day. This time I used a teflon pan so I won't have to use a messy release agent. What fine little works of art!

The point in making these things is to transmute the dangerous orgone that exists almost everywhere in our lives, into positive orgone, making life more pleasent, healthy and harmonious... physically, mentally, and emotionally. Lofty goals but we all have to start somewhere and I decided to start here, where I live. I have one of these little biscuits under the seat of my car and I now love the drive to work. I wondered what would happen to my surly boss if I exposed him to some positive orgone energy, so I took a couple to work and unceremoniously placed a biscuit amongst the clutter under his desk.

By the second day I overheard two co-workers talking about the change in attitude the boss had lately. I asked them in what way and they said he seemed happy and was busy doing his own thing without micro-managing everyone and was saying funny things and seemed unaffected by his usual over-the-top stress. Usually he's low energy and has everyone doing everything the hard way while he tells them they're doing it wrong. Sure enough... I saw him moving things around and keeping himself busy and really enjoying himself.
It's amazing what a little covert energy zap can do.

(BTW, Mr. H, don't tell Mr. C. That'll ruin my scientific experiment and cut into my fuck-off time.)

Thursday, July 19, 2007

I'll show you the life of the mind!

As you may or may not know, I've been messing with orgone energy for some time now with projects like orgone blankets, orgone blasters, cloudbusters and my first project, the orgone accumulator that I keep in my garage, so I decided to build a holy hand grenade, or HHG.
Each project proved to me that orgone energy not only exists but it's effects can be dramatic, so working with orgonite seemed to be the most logical next step. The orgone blasters were basically crystals wrapped with a copper coil, embedded in fiberglass resin with shredded copper and aluminum, or orgonite. The idea is that orgonite attracts and accumulates orgone energy but transmutes the negative orgone (DOR) into positive orgone (POR). It's the positive orgone that is beneficial to life and DOR has the opposite effect. The orgone accumulator attracted both positive and negative orgone, and even though I live far enough from DOR sources, such as cell phone towers, I felt it best to concentrate on orgonite as a medium for it's purity.
The construction of this HHG was different from the blasters in that I used a cone shape and 5 crystals with a coil at the top of the cone surrounding the double pointed crystal. This design was to emit energy vertically rather than horizontally. Last night I put this HHG under my bed to see what happens when I sleep.
Well, last night I had some pretty incredible dreams about puzzle pieces shaped like window screens, the golden ratio, a background of cool fire, and a god-like voice yelling, "I'll show you the life of the mind!" over and over as the secrets of the universe danced about the tip of my brain. I woke up refreshed, and imbued with a new recipe for lasagna.

Friday, July 13, 2007

What happened to the heros?

Britain's World War II prime minister Winston Churchill has been cut from a list of key historical figures recommended for teaching in English secondary schools. The same is true for Adolf Hitler, Mahatma Gandhi, Joseph Stalin and Martin Luther King. I wonder why Britain would choose to cut the history of these people from the school curriculum. Then I heard about the Royal Canadian Mounties are under attack for "horribly broken" leadership. I can't speak for the Canadians but I always regarded the mounties as the acme, a group of perfect policemen who always get their man. Those red uniformed, jodpour wearing, horse riding, professional cop criminologists with cords around their necks attached to their sidearms, to insure no one ever gets their guns. True individuals who would go it alone in the harshest environments, armed only with a pistol, food rations for a day, and balls the size of coconuts to bring back alive the roughest, toughest, criminally psychotic, tyers of women to railroad tracks and sawmills the western world can muster. True individual heroes, matched only by The Texas Rangers as men capable of quelling mob violence. It only takes one Texas Ranger to suppress a major disturbance and only one Mountie to get his man.
What's the connection between dropping Churchill from the English curriculum and shoveling dirt on one of North Americas most highly regarded institutions?
I think it has to do with the systematic elimination of individual hero worship. Think about this... How many living heroes can you name? Even individual sports heroes are fading away. Gone are the Babe Ruth's, Shoeless Joe Jackson's, and Mohammad Alis. Gone are the Tom Payne's, George Patton's, and Albert Einsteins. What do we hear about sports heroes? They do excessive drugs, steroids, alcohol, abuse women, and gamble on sports and get thrown out of the Hall of Fame. Even the scientific community will discredit any reputable scientist who doesn't think within their very narrow box. We've moved from an individual hero worshiping society to a society that glorifies firemen, and only as a group, and that's only because of 9/11. It's the group that has replaced the individual and it's the group that takes credit for anything unless you happen to be in charge of Enron. The bad guys are individuals and the good guys are bureaucracies.
The Mounties have always been viewed as individuals, armed only with his wits, common sense, determination, and quiet, reserved machismo, on a mission to bring in the bad guy. The same goes for Churchill and hundreds of other when-the-going-gets-tough-the-tough-get-going individuals that we desperately need in our history books as figures we can look up to no matter how many quarts of whiskey they drink or Cuban cigars they smoke.

Now, sit down and draw up a list of all the heroes you can think of and ask yourself if these people will be gone from your children's history books.

Monday, July 09, 2007

My lucky day

Are you one of those people who refuse to pick up a penny unless it's heads up? I know a lot of people like this. They'll pick up a heads-up penny because it's good luck but won't touch a penny that's heads down. I think it's a regional thing. To the rest of the world a found penny is a good thing but only in this area of PA, mostly Schuylkill county and surrounding areas, is a found penny a good thing only half the time. It must be the sub-human inhabitants that live here. These are the progeny of that rugged coal mining stock from Eastern Europe who were too stupid to go west with the rest of the pioneers so they stayed in Schuylkill county, digging coal with their bare hands from deep underground like a race of cave trolls. And these specimens won't pick up a penny just because it's heads up... They distrust good fortune like it's an evil genie. Someone should remind these trogs how much a penny can buy at the company store. I tried once...

I was in front of the store when I looked down and saw a penny. I noticed a woman who also saw it and asked if she was going to pick it up. She asked if it was heads up. I said, you mean if it's heads up you'll pick it up because it's lucky? She replied, yes. I then asked her if a tails-up penny is bad luck, since she put so much stock in heads-up superstition. She didn't answer. Perhaps her genetically inferior brain was busy formulating an answer. I then proceeded to explain to her that the subconscious mind deals in absolutes. To your subconscious there is no difference between a penny and a million dollars. Money is money. Your subconscious interprets your refusal to bend down to pick up a penny, even if it's heads-down, as a refusal to so much as bend at the waist for a second for any amount of money. I then asked her if it was a tails-up half dollar would she pick it up. By this time she was either embarrassed by my exposing her stupid superstitions or was in the process of trying to generate a thought. At any rate, she just stood looking at me in silence. I then looked down at the penny and said, "It's tails up. Ya want it?" I was giving her a chance to show me she understood what I was saying all this time. I had hoped she would simply bend over, pick up the penny and just think about what I said but all she did was stand there like a mute retard. So, I picked up the penny, held it up in the air and said "It's my lucky day!"

Yeah, it WAS my lucky day but I wanted so much for it to be hers too.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

blues fest '07

Once again we made our pilgrimage to the annual Briggs Farm Blues Fest where thousands sat in the hot, summer Pa sun and quaffed copious amounts of intoxicating fluids. Heat strokes, mirages and general madness were rampant, but that's all part of the fun. It wasn't all bad. As I sat there feeling my life force ebbing with thousands of fellow sufferers I was reawakened and renewed by the smell of cigars and marijuanna wafting through the air. And there... in the middle of mayhem and chaos was St. Phred, the patron saint of imbibation, who was canonized for teaching the lepers to sing. He looked me straight in the eye and said a pearl of wisdom so profound it drained the lymph from my glands. He said, "looks like you need some rum, bud." I was imbued and imbibed.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

9 seconds of fame, almost

So, Mary and I stopped for gas on our way to Wilkes Barre. The object was to get supplies for cloud busters, orgone blasters and holy hand grenades to disrupt the New World Order plan for global takeover by neutralizing DORs from cell phone towers and chemtrails.

Anyway, this reporter for channel 16 asked me what my opinion was on the proposed bill to put toll booths on I-80. I gave him a 10 minute tirade about how our esteemed state politicians don't have to drive around here because if they did they wouldn't think of charging motorists to use highways that are always closed in the warm weather for repairs and always closed in cold weather because PENDOT won't get their lazy asses in the snow plows after sundown because Emperor Rendell fired hundreds of PEN DOT workers and slashed their budget to funnel money to his pet projects in Philly, like mass transit and how Rendell and his girlfriend should be dragged out of the governors mansion and hanged by their heels at the nearest gas station just like they did with Il Duce and if the state needs money so bad that they have to spend a small fortune to install toll booths at every exit to further burdon the taxpayers with even more costs and congress can vote themselves the largest pay raise in history at 2am then those bastards need a little vigilante justice from citizenry. We'll show those homo bedwetters The Patriot Act when we drag their sorry asses out at the sharp end of a pitchfork as we put em all up against the wall, muthafuckas.

After all that the guy next to me got 9 seconds of sound bite and Homeland Security detained me for 8 hours, strip-searched me and froze my assets off. Whatever happened to free speech?