The last time I made colloidal silver was when I traded some for a haircut a few months ago. I'll make a pint at a time, half goes to Tammy, who shares it with people she knows, and the other half is divided up for me and a few other people who I supply. There's no reason I shouldn't make more than a pint every now and then to stock up but I figure I can make it on the fly when needed. I've been slacking off making this stuff but today I have the time, inclination, and need to make a batch.
There must be hundreds of devices on the market designed to make colloidal silver and many more people just sell it to folks who don't want to make their own, at a cost just under the spot price for silver. When you cut through all the fancy hardware on every kit on the market, it comes down to 9 volts DC going through two silver rods in distilled water. The electrolytic action brings out nano particles of silver into the water. Crude, simple, and effective.
I decided to increase the PPM in this new batch by adding a couple drops of a saline solution made with Himalayan salt and distilled water. Distilled water has very little conductivity and the saline solution should shorten the time making it as well as increase it's potency. The difference is dramatic, producing the same potency in one third the time.
If you don't know about colloidal silver, you should. Since ancient times, silver has been used as an antimicrobial to preserve food and fight infection. Before refrigeration it was common practice to drop a silver dollar in milk to keep it fresh. In the early 20th century, allopathic medicine monopolized all medicine practice, favoring synthetic pharmaceuticals over the time tested natural cures. Antibiotics began to lose favor as various organisms became antibiotic resistant, and silver products in the form of liquid particle suspensions began to emerge.
During the 80's Syracuse University and UCLA School of Medicine began lab testing colloidal silver and found it to be highly effective against bacteria, viruses, and fungal infections, even those that were antibiotic resistant. One such antibiotic resistant bacteria, MRSA, began to plague hospitals, causing serious infections in patients that resulted in long term hospitalization or death. Hospitals began using silver coated surgical and catheter medical instruments as well as silver ointments and dressings to prevent MRSA infections. As hospitals are enjoying the reduction of malpractice suits as a direct result of using silver as the only method of fighting hospital born bacteria, they still officially claim the use of colloidal silver has absolutely no benefit. Independent research using a protocol consisting of MSM, DMSO, and colloidal silver was found to have a far superior success rate at naturally reversing cancer than the traditional allopathic methods of cutting, burning, and poisoning the patient.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Saturday, September 13, 2014
tired of waiting
The other night I was dreaming while The Kinks tune, Tired of Waiting played over and over in my dream background, like this was the only record in the juke box. After a while, the dream became the background as I paid more attention to the tune. I can't recall the last time I heard this tune in waking life but I knew the lyrics as if I wrote them yesterday. The mark of a great song is hearing it once and it stays with you for the rest of your life. Doubly so for the lyrics.
As this song continued to play over and over I couldn't help wondering if Dave Davies loosened his guitar strings to produce that unique Kink sound.
The flavor of this dream was unmistakably orgone enhanced. It had that familiar feel that can only come from a powered up field generator on the other side of the house, in this case, Jupiter 2 with a fist sized chuck of crystal on top of it. Although Jupiter 2 has been running non-stop for a couple years, it wasn't till the night of these dreams that I realized it didn't have a top orb to direct the energy, and I simply used this big chunk of quartz in place of the orb and went to bed. No wonder my dreams were so pedestrian last month.
Note to self... Check the field generator from time to time to make sure it has all its parts.
The next morning I got on the computer, searched for Tired of Waiting, and played the first video that came up. Half way down the comment section I read... "dave davies used to loosen cords to get that great twang the best band EVER"
Godam, I love these little synchronisities!
As this song continued to play over and over I couldn't help wondering if Dave Davies loosened his guitar strings to produce that unique Kink sound.
The flavor of this dream was unmistakably orgone enhanced. It had that familiar feel that can only come from a powered up field generator on the other side of the house, in this case, Jupiter 2 with a fist sized chuck of crystal on top of it. Although Jupiter 2 has been running non-stop for a couple years, it wasn't till the night of these dreams that I realized it didn't have a top orb to direct the energy, and I simply used this big chunk of quartz in place of the orb and went to bed. No wonder my dreams were so pedestrian last month.
Note to self... Check the field generator from time to time to make sure it has all its parts.
The next morning I got on the computer, searched for Tired of Waiting, and played the first video that came up. Half way down the comment section I read... "dave davies used to loosen cords to get that great twang the best band EVER"
Godam, I love these little synchronisities!
Thursday, September 11, 2014
predicting 911 dirty bomb "false flag" attack
by John Kimber for Veterans Today
[Editor's note: It turns out to be possible to create a fission bomb, not just a "dirty" bomb, from the materials of which ISIS has taken possession. Gordon Duff has recently published several articles about this here at VT. A caller to The New York Daily News last Friday threaten to nuke 1 World Trade Center, which turned out to be a hoax. The 13th observance of 9/11 is this Thursday.]My “top ten” reasons for predicting, and thereby helping to defeat, a new “false flag” attack on 9/11 are as follows:
1) ISIS were conveniently left 88 pounds of uranium compounds in Mosul in July – perfect for making dirty bombs, and for dirty bomb predictive programming. Like al-Qaeda, ISIS are a CIA founded and controlled group.
The CIA and Mossad are notorious for carrying out false flag attacks, including the 9/11 joint operation. The ISIS leader may be a Mossad agent.
2) U.K. Prime Sinister David Cameron, hyped the ISIS terror threat, and raised the official terror threat level to “SEVERE”/highly likely, on 8/29/14. The level had remained at “SUBSTANTIAL” since the 11th of July 2011 (7/11/11). Cameron is also preparing to bomb Iraq and Syria, and needs a good excuse, especially for bombing Syria.
3) At the end of March, Obama, Cameron, Merkel and other leaders took part in a dirty bomb role-playing game, at a nuclear terrorism conference. A similar role-playing exercise occurred a year before the London 7/7 bombings: the scenario closely matched the real events of 7/7/05.
4) ISIS are the CIA’s al-Qaeda 2.0, and therefore 9/11/14 is the perfect day for “revenge attacks” against the U.S. and U.K. If there are attacks on 9/11/14, half of America has been programmed to say or believe “those G.D. Muzzies hit us hard again!”.
5) Dirty bomb drills have been repeatedly conducted in the U.S. and U.K. Dirty bombs are much easier to make or acquire than conventional/real nuclear weapons, and are therefore far more plausible as a terrorist weapon.
6) Dirty bomb attacks fit the pattern of previous false flag attacks – plenty of terror but little disruption. Dirty bombs are relatively harmless, but according to the exercise mentioned in point/reason 3, the danger will be greatly exaggerated.
7) There has been massive predictive programming for nuclear terror attacks in “fiction” – numerous TV shows and movies have included nuclear terrorism plots. “Jericho” (2006-8) and “Operation Blackjack” (2009) are the most detailed examples. 8 cities are simultaneously attacked/bombed in “Operation Blackjack”, which contained the hidden message “Predictive Programming 2.0”. 9/11 was similarly foretold in “fiction”.
8) Obama/the CIA needs a excuse to attack Syria, Iran, and the DHS’s primary “terrorism concern” (i.e. target) “right-wing gun owners”. False flag attacks, allegedly carried out by “Muslims plus domestic extremists”, would be ideal. This is the plot of “Operation Blackjack”.
9) Occult numerology is a hallmark of false flag attacks. 9/11/14 is unlucky 13 years after 9/11/01, and Cameron’s ISIS statement plus 13 days is 9/11/14. 13 is also associated with death and upheaval in numerology. 8 is the sun worshippers/Freemasons number, as in 88 lbs of uranium and 888 pages in The Warren Commission Report. Masons serve Satan, whose number is 9.
10) The Neocons, who are behind most false flag operations, are hyping the ISIS threat. Lt. Gen. McInerney has even suggested attacks specifically on 9/11/14, partly to bury a new book about the Benghazi Scandal (due 9/9/14). The fake assassination of Osama bin Laden in 2011 buried Obama’s fake birth certificate, and the Sandy Hook Hoax buried his treasonous preparations for a U.S. civil war/military coup – 1.5 billion hollow point bullets etc.
As mentioned above, publicizing potential attacks on a specific date is a good way of preventing them. Hundreds of phone calls to radio shows on 9/11/14 saying, “this was a predicted government false flag operation, and here are 10 reasons why”, would cause problems.
John Kimber graduated in economics and psychology in the UK and frequently publishes on Before It’s News.
Saturday, September 06, 2014
hornet winter prediction
Situated about head height on a single low branch in the yard, I'm amazed no one crashed into it. Lucky for them, because hornets will send the whole hive after an attacker and can sting multiple times in the most sensitive areas of a human body. Like the inside of a knee, the neck, an arm pit, anywhere around a face, up your pant leg stinging the most sensitive parts of your anatomy as you run through the neighbourhood waving your arms and screaming like a little girl. If you find one of these things, it's best to leave it alone or suffer the consequences.
But some people just have to mess with a hornets nest when they see one, which is why I decided to not tell anyone at the party. I figured if they knew, sooner or later I'd have to ask a few questions to some swollen faced people getting ready for a trip the the ER. "How did it happen? Did ya not see it? Were ya fuckin with it?"
Anyway, this hornets nest was built about six feet off the ground, indicating you'll have some snow but not as much as our more recent winters. Hornets have a good sense of how much snow we'll get and they always build their nests high enough to keep it away from snow damage. Earlier this season I found a small hornets nest being built under the cb dish, about two and a half feet off the ground, indicating much less snow than previous years. I suspect this new nest was built by the survivors after their first nest was destroyed, indicating survival of the species overrules the best location.
If only humans were to take a few tips from hornets.
If only humans were able to get it together and rebuild after a tragedy instead of sitting on their collective asses, waiting for someone to do it for them.
If only humans were able to eliminate their petty differences and do whatever they can to secure the survival of their species.
If only humans could take care of themselves by taking care of the group.
If only humans could be non-aggressive unless attacked or provoked.
If only humans would attack their aggressors with such fierce, collective ferocity that a second attack would be out of the question.
If humans were to realize that survival of the species is everybody's business we probably wouldn't be running all over the place like a kid poking a hornets nest with a stick.
One tip we can take from the hornets is to stock up on heating fuel and food. It's gonna be a cold winter.
Tuesday, September 02, 2014
it's time to drink
Mothers against drunk driving, or MADD, was instituted in 1980 by Candice Lightner as a result of the death of her child from a drunk driver. She quit that organization a few years later when MADD's mission statement morphed from getting the drunk drivers off the road to the neo-prohibitionist atmosphere we have now.
Since then DUI check points are everywhere, beer excise taxes increased to match those of spirits, primary enforcement of seat belt laws were enacted in all states, a national traffic safety fund was developed, and the national minimum drinking age act was made into law with loss of federal highway dollars for states who didn't go along with this plan. There's much more than these few points but you get the idea. Alcohol = bad.
Up until the mid 80's, the real movers and shakers in congress were drunks. Most of the deals made by lawmakers came from a democrat and a republican in a bar getting hammered on alcohol, tossing each other accolades.
"You're my buddy." No, YOU'RE my buddy. Barteener, another round of martoonies. So, what's the deal on this supply side economics thing?"
Guys getting shitfaced and working out deals is as old as civilization. A tried and true bonding ritual practised by every booze swilling club, corporation, and nation on Earth to grease the wheels of negotiation through lowered inhibitions in order to hammer out the best deal for all concerned.
The three martini lunch was more than a mid-day drunkards fest. It was a necessary business tool used to spark creativity and unleash that brain-storming edge to propel your company to heights the sober minded could never imagine.
Every major player on the world stage had their drink of choice that set them apart from other nations and identified them as to who they were.
U.S.S.R. had vodka, England had whiskey, France had absinthe, Italy had wine, USA had bourbon, and Germany had beer as their national drinking treasure. So powerful was the association of a nation to it's alcoholic beverage that a citizen's patriotism was measured by the amount they can consume of their nation's booze of choice. French soldiers had absinthe as part of their rations, Stolichnaya is still the vodka high water mark, and Bavaria is the only place to go if you want the best beer on the planet. Every American holiday has copious amounts of beer to go along with the hot-dogs, cheeseburgers, and potato salad as a permanent holiday staple.
The American love for beer can be credited to the Germans that settled in North America and set up breweries in the colonies to quench the thirst of hard working men. It was in the taverns where beer and rum swilling patriots talked treason and hatched the plan to fight the whiskey drinking English and stick it to King George. It's no mistake that the German cities of Frankfurt and Hamburg were respectfully chosen as the names of the two most identifiable foods on the American revolution holiday menu with lots of beer to wash it down.
America truly is a melting pot of the best booze the world has ever seen. California and New York state produce wine almost as wonderful as the best European wines. The Scots and Irish escaped Pittsburgh after the Whiskey Rebellion and took up shop in Tennessee and Kentucky to perfect sour mash whiskey and bourbon. Schmidt's, Schaefer, Anheuser-Busch, Pabst.... need I say more?
Every executive, politician, and journalist had a bottle and two glasses in their desk drawer and some mixed bromo with scotch on particularly stressful days. Every limo had a full bar and cocktails before dinner was an accepted reality. Winston Churchill wouldn't get out of bed before his first glass of whiskey and a fresh cigar, Hemingway wrote, The Sun Also Rises, while he was half in the bag, and U.S. Grant was so shitfaced during the civil war he couldn't stop throwing up on his bugler. And these guys got the job done.
Today, we have a population that's been conditioned to believe alcohol is evil in every way, shape, and form. Get a DUI and you can look forward to not only losing your licence for a year but get random tests to make sure you're not drinking while in the comfort of your own home. Jail time if your PO stops by and sees a beer in your fridge.
Meanwhile, the guys in congress who made these laws are going to the congressional gym, playing golf, drinking bottled water, and remain in total opposition with anyone on the other side of the isle and nothing gets done. Compromise has been replaced with Machiavellian tactics like passing the bill to see what's in it. Once everyone sees it and doesn't like it, it's too late cause that's what the law says and everyone is more pissed off than before and mistrust turns to blind stupidity and the walls get a little thicker.
We need to provide congress with the tools needed to turn this ship of state around before it's too late. I propose we make it mandatory that all members of congress start drinking before roll call and continue drinking until they're off the clock. For public safety, all members of congress will be picked up at their homes and transported to and from work by way of the congressional drunk bus, where there is always an open bar. Seatbelts are mandatory and Homeland Security will mix the drinks. Breathalysers will be stationed at the capital to maintain strict blood/alcohol levels under the watchful eye of capital police.
Yeah, I hear ya. Dream on.
How did things get this way? Did congress turn prohibitionist when we weren't looking? Did the non-drinking Middle East nations have anything to do with this? Hmmmm.....
Drinking is forbidden in the Middle East and those guys can't agree on anything. Compromise isn't in the Middle Eastern dictionary. For thousands of years, disputes were settled by prolonged periods of vocal outcry with intermittent gunshots and the occasional beheading, with no hope of resolution. Tribal factions refused to see past their own petty problems, resulting in scattered pockets of bitching men whose only joy in life was watching their enemies bleed and the occasional clitoral mutilation.
In 1990, for the first time in combat history, Desert Shield foreign troops were forbidden alcohol as part of the deal to park their military equipment in the desert. Could this practice of sobriety manage to get a foothold in American politics?
Today...
Drinking is forbidden in Congress and those guys can't agree on anything. Compromise isn't in the Republican/Democrat dictionary. For years, disputes were settled by prolonged periods of vocal outcry with intermittent gunshots and the occasional beheading, with no hope of resolution. Tribal factions refused to see past their own petty problems, resulting in scattered pockets of bitching men whose only joy in life is watching their enemies bleed and the occasional clitoral mutilation.
MY GOD! I think I'm on to something!
Since then DUI check points are everywhere, beer excise taxes increased to match those of spirits, primary enforcement of seat belt laws were enacted in all states, a national traffic safety fund was developed, and the national minimum drinking age act was made into law with loss of federal highway dollars for states who didn't go along with this plan. There's much more than these few points but you get the idea. Alcohol = bad.
Up until the mid 80's, the real movers and shakers in congress were drunks. Most of the deals made by lawmakers came from a democrat and a republican in a bar getting hammered on alcohol, tossing each other accolades.
"You're my buddy." No, YOU'RE my buddy. Barteener, another round of martoonies. So, what's the deal on this supply side economics thing?"
Guys getting shitfaced and working out deals is as old as civilization. A tried and true bonding ritual practised by every booze swilling club, corporation, and nation on Earth to grease the wheels of negotiation through lowered inhibitions in order to hammer out the best deal for all concerned.
The three martini lunch was more than a mid-day drunkards fest. It was a necessary business tool used to spark creativity and unleash that brain-storming edge to propel your company to heights the sober minded could never imagine.
Every major player on the world stage had their drink of choice that set them apart from other nations and identified them as to who they were.
U.S.S.R. had vodka, England had whiskey, France had absinthe, Italy had wine, USA had bourbon, and Germany had beer as their national drinking treasure. So powerful was the association of a nation to it's alcoholic beverage that a citizen's patriotism was measured by the amount they can consume of their nation's booze of choice. French soldiers had absinthe as part of their rations, Stolichnaya is still the vodka high water mark, and Bavaria is the only place to go if you want the best beer on the planet. Every American holiday has copious amounts of beer to go along with the hot-dogs, cheeseburgers, and potato salad as a permanent holiday staple.
The American love for beer can be credited to the Germans that settled in North America and set up breweries in the colonies to quench the thirst of hard working men. It was in the taverns where beer and rum swilling patriots talked treason and hatched the plan to fight the whiskey drinking English and stick it to King George. It's no mistake that the German cities of Frankfurt and Hamburg were respectfully chosen as the names of the two most identifiable foods on the American revolution holiday menu with lots of beer to wash it down.
America truly is a melting pot of the best booze the world has ever seen. California and New York state produce wine almost as wonderful as the best European wines. The Scots and Irish escaped Pittsburgh after the Whiskey Rebellion and took up shop in Tennessee and Kentucky to perfect sour mash whiskey and bourbon. Schmidt's, Schaefer, Anheuser-Busch, Pabst.... need I say more?
Every executive, politician, and journalist had a bottle and two glasses in their desk drawer and some mixed bromo with scotch on particularly stressful days. Every limo had a full bar and cocktails before dinner was an accepted reality. Winston Churchill wouldn't get out of bed before his first glass of whiskey and a fresh cigar, Hemingway wrote, The Sun Also Rises, while he was half in the bag, and U.S. Grant was so shitfaced during the civil war he couldn't stop throwing up on his bugler. And these guys got the job done.
Today, we have a population that's been conditioned to believe alcohol is evil in every way, shape, and form. Get a DUI and you can look forward to not only losing your licence for a year but get random tests to make sure you're not drinking while in the comfort of your own home. Jail time if your PO stops by and sees a beer in your fridge.
Meanwhile, the guys in congress who made these laws are going to the congressional gym, playing golf, drinking bottled water, and remain in total opposition with anyone on the other side of the isle and nothing gets done. Compromise has been replaced with Machiavellian tactics like passing the bill to see what's in it. Once everyone sees it and doesn't like it, it's too late cause that's what the law says and everyone is more pissed off than before and mistrust turns to blind stupidity and the walls get a little thicker.
We need to provide congress with the tools needed to turn this ship of state around before it's too late. I propose we make it mandatory that all members of congress start drinking before roll call and continue drinking until they're off the clock. For public safety, all members of congress will be picked up at their homes and transported to and from work by way of the congressional drunk bus, where there is always an open bar. Seatbelts are mandatory and Homeland Security will mix the drinks. Breathalysers will be stationed at the capital to maintain strict blood/alcohol levels under the watchful eye of capital police.
Yeah, I hear ya. Dream on.
How did things get this way? Did congress turn prohibitionist when we weren't looking? Did the non-drinking Middle East nations have anything to do with this? Hmmmm.....
Drinking is forbidden in the Middle East and those guys can't agree on anything. Compromise isn't in the Middle Eastern dictionary. For thousands of years, disputes were settled by prolonged periods of vocal outcry with intermittent gunshots and the occasional beheading, with no hope of resolution. Tribal factions refused to see past their own petty problems, resulting in scattered pockets of bitching men whose only joy in life was watching their enemies bleed and the occasional clitoral mutilation.
In 1990, for the first time in combat history, Desert Shield foreign troops were forbidden alcohol as part of the deal to park their military equipment in the desert. Could this practice of sobriety manage to get a foothold in American politics?
Today...
Drinking is forbidden in Congress and those guys can't agree on anything. Compromise isn't in the Republican/Democrat dictionary. For years, disputes were settled by prolonged periods of vocal outcry with intermittent gunshots and the occasional beheading, with no hope of resolution. Tribal factions refused to see past their own petty problems, resulting in scattered pockets of bitching men whose only joy in life is watching their enemies bleed and the occasional clitoral mutilation.
MY GOD! I think I'm on to something!
Thursday, August 14, 2014
curing automotive emphysema
My Ford Expedition, affectionately known as The Exxon Valdez because of it's insane gas-guzzling capabilities, has been going through a few upgrades in an attempt to improve it's horrendous gas mileage. Earlier this year I installed a K&N cold air intake in order to improve airflow to the engine. I figured I'd get a slight improvement but I never expected such a dramatic increase in horsepower and throttle response. It's like this machine was suddenly cured of a lifetime of asthma. Instead of labouring to get up to speed, this thing jumps when you touch the gas and feels like a 4 ton muscle car. That mod gave me an extra 4 mpg.
Well, it breathes in ok but that exhaust still needed some work. The original exhaust system had 4 catalytic converters and 4 O2 sensors that I quickly reduced by half for better air flow. That, and 4 cats are just way too many. Hell, if I could get away with it I'd scrap all the cats, the whole computer system, and every sensor I could find to bring it down to 1968 simplicity. Only then could I install an HHO system and stop making all those expensive trips to the gas station. I'm not giving up on the HHO. I just need to figure out how to bypass all them damn sensors first. One step at a time.
Cars, just like humans, inhale and exhale and it's one thing to get the air in and another to get it out so I installed a backcat system, turning my single pipe exhaust into duels in an attempt to cure my car's emphysema and boost my gas mileage. Mike, my mechanic, got right on it and cut the old exhaust off and started sizing things up. I love watching this guy work. He's a true artist and watching him design, build, and install a complete exhaust system from scratch is truly a sight to behold. As he was bending and flaring pipe I looked around and noticed a complete absence of the typical jungle of pre-bent pipes filling space on the back wall of every other muffler shop you'll find. He had tons of long, straight pipe tucked away in the corner and this is the stuff he works with. The system he built for my caravan ten years ago is just as solid as the day it was installed and I expect this new system will most likely outlast the car.
As I mentioned, I wanted this modification to increase my gas mileage but I knew it was gonna sound different from factory and I couldn't wait to fire it up. Those twin pipes sound nice and throaty. A deep rumble with a laid-back, suppressed roar. Godam, this thing never sounded so good. Like it got a new pair of lungs and was ready to scream. I goosed the throttle and could hear a slight cackle as it backed off. "That's to be expected from a properly breathing, balanced V8", says Mike as we stood behind the vehicle and listened to the mellow hum idle.
I took the long way home through back roads to check the response and groove on the rumble as I took turns a little faster than usual. This thing wanted to go in a big way. I felt I was holding it back like a thoroughbred going to the gate. As soon as I got on the interstate, I passed all those trucks going through construction and opened it up a little and settled into 80mph at just under 2k. Not bad. Checking for speed traps and cops and taking note that everyone else on the highway was well over the speed limit, I figured it was safe to bump the pedal and got it up to 90 on an open stretch with the tach around 2.4 grand. Yesterday I was driving to work doing 50 at 3k and thought THAT was a massive improvement from the factory intake. This is a definite improvement and I can't wait to do a mileage check.
I'm sure at least one neighbour noticed a volume change as I rumbled into the driveway to dock the Exxon Valdez but I didn't do this mod just to make it sound awesome. I'd be happy with the horse power and gas mileage improvement with total silence out the pipes, but ya can't have it both ways and I'll settle for awesome sound and performance over quiet and bland any day. At least the American car love affair isn't dead, yet.
The total cost for the intake and exhaust was a little more than an average car payment, which is one reason I don't do payments.
Yeah, those are field generators I planned to install over the gas tank until I decided on another orgone approach involving an array of passive units with an improved shape.
I'll keep ya posted on that.
One certainty about life is there's always room for constant improvement.
Well, it breathes in ok but that exhaust still needed some work. The original exhaust system had 4 catalytic converters and 4 O2 sensors that I quickly reduced by half for better air flow. That, and 4 cats are just way too many. Hell, if I could get away with it I'd scrap all the cats, the whole computer system, and every sensor I could find to bring it down to 1968 simplicity. Only then could I install an HHO system and stop making all those expensive trips to the gas station. I'm not giving up on the HHO. I just need to figure out how to bypass all them damn sensors first. One step at a time.
Cars, just like humans, inhale and exhale and it's one thing to get the air in and another to get it out so I installed a backcat system, turning my single pipe exhaust into duels in an attempt to cure my car's emphysema and boost my gas mileage. Mike, my mechanic, got right on it and cut the old exhaust off and started sizing things up. I love watching this guy work. He's a true artist and watching him design, build, and install a complete exhaust system from scratch is truly a sight to behold. As he was bending and flaring pipe I looked around and noticed a complete absence of the typical jungle of pre-bent pipes filling space on the back wall of every other muffler shop you'll find. He had tons of long, straight pipe tucked away in the corner and this is the stuff he works with. The system he built for my caravan ten years ago is just as solid as the day it was installed and I expect this new system will most likely outlast the car.
As I mentioned, I wanted this modification to increase my gas mileage but I knew it was gonna sound different from factory and I couldn't wait to fire it up. Those twin pipes sound nice and throaty. A deep rumble with a laid-back, suppressed roar. Godam, this thing never sounded so good. Like it got a new pair of lungs and was ready to scream. I goosed the throttle and could hear a slight cackle as it backed off. "That's to be expected from a properly breathing, balanced V8", says Mike as we stood behind the vehicle and listened to the mellow hum idle.
I took the long way home through back roads to check the response and groove on the rumble as I took turns a little faster than usual. This thing wanted to go in a big way. I felt I was holding it back like a thoroughbred going to the gate. As soon as I got on the interstate, I passed all those trucks going through construction and opened it up a little and settled into 80mph at just under 2k. Not bad. Checking for speed traps and cops and taking note that everyone else on the highway was well over the speed limit, I figured it was safe to bump the pedal and got it up to 90 on an open stretch with the tach around 2.4 grand. Yesterday I was driving to work doing 50 at 3k and thought THAT was a massive improvement from the factory intake. This is a definite improvement and I can't wait to do a mileage check.
I'm sure at least one neighbour noticed a volume change as I rumbled into the driveway to dock the Exxon Valdez but I didn't do this mod just to make it sound awesome. I'd be happy with the horse power and gas mileage improvement with total silence out the pipes, but ya can't have it both ways and I'll settle for awesome sound and performance over quiet and bland any day. At least the American car love affair isn't dead, yet.
Yeah, those are field generators I planned to install over the gas tank until I decided on another orgone approach involving an array of passive units with an improved shape.
I'll keep ya posted on that.
One certainty about life is there's always room for constant improvement.
Tuesday, August 05, 2014
Thursday, June 26, 2014
free orgonite
I saw a design like this on the internet a while ago and wondered how they made it. I figured it must be very difficult to make, since the cost was something like $40.
About a week ago I figured out how to make these things and the process isn't as difficult as I first thought. In fact, it's falling-off-a-log simple and the small size allows a fast curing time. The elegant doughnut shape means you don't need to engineer a way to mount it on a chain. This is as simple as it gets in a 3D world.
Aside from it's primal sophistication, the best part is what's in it. Black iron oxide, powdered quartz, and resin. This unit has about a half teaspoon of iron oxide with a couple grams of powdered quartz crystal to ramp it up. Ordinarily, I'd use crushed quartz sand but the smaller mass of this unit requires something better... Clear quartz pulverized to the consistency of confectioners sugar. I also threw in some wheat flour as an organic and to make it more pleasant to the touch. The torus shape allows an energy signature similar to the magnetic field on an electric motor and is ideal for concentrating the max amount of energy from a small orgonite mass.
Since this unit is made from extremely dense orgonite material and requires some kind of stimulation to make it work, I figure what better place than over your heart? Your heart is basically an electric motor switching polarities from + to - that contracts and expands in waves to keep your blood moving. An over simplification of heart mechanics but my point is it's enough to give this ring a bump to get it working. There's also movement from breathing, moving, talking, and all those thousands of frequencies your organs crank out to the universe in a symphony that is unique to you alone.
Just cause ya can't hear it doesn't mean we're not putting out a lot of noise. I imagine any higher life form that can hear the frequency cacophony we're all emitting will probably interpret it as the primal scream wailing of sociopathic monkey-men in emotional blood lust agony. No wonder they stay away from us.
Anyway... as I was taking my morning shower, the thought came to me that giving these things away to anyone who asks would be the thing to do. It's not only a karmic thing but gives me the opportunity to do some cheap research. It will also be good for you by instilling and reinforcing the attitude that you CAN get something just by asking for it.
Drop me a line and ask for a free ring and I'll send one to you free of charge. Free means no charge of any kind. No postage. No handling. Just, plain, free. I'll even ship international. These things are small and light weight. How much can it cost to ship to the most desolate place on the planet? Don't worry about it. As I said. It's FREE. Free, that is, while supplies last.
BUT... There's a catch. If I send you one of these, just use it and try to let me know your experience with it. That's all. I know most people won't report back but some will and I'm just playing a numbers game here. Throw enough mud on a wall and some of it sticks. It's the reports I get back that count.
Besides, free is always good.
Friday, June 20, 2014
punkin 1
I was talking with a friend about orgone field generators and how the shape determines the energy flow. Eventually, the discussion navigated me to free-form tangent mode, rambling on about the perfect shape for a toroidal field generator and I found myself in a vocal rant on orgone energy flow theory and the positive and negative aspects of various pastry cookware. The idea of a bundt cake mold came to mind as quite possibly the perfect shape.
I thought about a bundt mold years ago and disregarded the shape, primarily because it wasn't smooth and I thought an angel-food cake pan showed more promise. But the more I thought about it, the more obsessed I got with the shape and began to consider the decorative ridges going from the outside edge to the open center might actually help to structure the energy flow in that unique wrap around way only a powered up orgonite toroid can do.
While still talking and ranting about shapes and energy flow, part of my mind was doing an on-hand inventory of the materials needed for this project.
...bla, bla, bla, cascading densities...
round cake pan, check.
...bla, bla, bla, mobius coil, maybe 24 gauge...
I still have that extra gallon of resin I bought last month, check.
...It's the shape, man. That toroid shape that makes it happen!...
There's a spool of wire in the back room next to the pyramid molds, check.
...And those ridges that go from large on the outside to small on the inside should direct all that energy to the business end, the center vortex, baby!...
I know I saw a bundt cake pan in Kmart for under ten bucks. Iron oxide, powdered copper, vasoline, check, check, check.
I couldn't wait to start. And just as expected, the project was a sloppy, disorganized, chaotic, improvisational mess from start to finish. Yeah, I make orgonite like I cook. A pinch of this, a handful of that, a few last minute changes, some gravy stains, and a surprise every time.
This project was no exception.
This aint your regular bundt cake form. This unit has a bottom half equal in mass to the top half and it took just short of two gallons of resin to produce. The center of this thing is made from a thick slurry of polyester resin, black iron oxide and copper in a 6:1 ratio, some sand, and an internal mobius coil made from 100' of 24 gauge insulated solid copper wire. The second layer is medium density orgonite made with a half teaspoon of black iron oxide, brass shavings, resin, sand, and about a dozen small DT quarts crystals around the perimeter.
Kinda looks like a pumpkin, don't it? If you can come up with a better name than punkin 1 I'm all ears.
You probably noticed a few light discolorations around the hemisphere and part way in the vortex. Those used to be voids where the two hemispheres didn't quite form properly or where the resin cured too fast and produced cracks.
It happens. The temps were in the mid 60's, there was lots of sand and powdered metals in the mix, and lots of resin poured at once, making this project much harder than I anticipated. It doesn't help that this was my first big pour since last fall and I didn't have my act half together for something like this.
But, what the hell. If everything was easy, we'd never learn anything. In this case, I learned plenty.
Before I made any repairs to the voids I hooked up frequency and fired this thing up. Twenty minutes later it just sat there, dead as a doornail. Well, THAT sucks! It took me a couple days and gallons of resin to produce a boat anchor. And an ugly boat anchor, at that.
BUT... (Yeah, I know that's a big but. Everybody's got a big but, ok?) At least I get to see if my edge theory works with a practical demonstration comparing a unit with a sharp edged bunch of voids with the same unit free from any kind of surface imperfections. Some Bondo applied with a Popsicle stick and cleaned up with a dremel restored it's form. I topped it off with a few coats of shellac as a sealant and organic layer and fired it up eight hours later.
It took about two minutes to charge up before I began to feel the energy field forming around this unit. The smooth shape let the energy envelope the unit and concentrate in the hourglass shaped center vortex.
Unlike the other units I built, this one doesn't need a central core to put out the energy. It runs great all by itself but way better with a big ass crystal. It also does a good job supercharging orgonite and seems to display some pretty awesome manifestation capabilities.
Be that as it may, I still made plenty of mistakes. This prototype may not be as kick-ass as I would like but I can use this unit as a learning tool.
For one, the inner core mass should have been more proportional to the medium density mass surrounding it, making it smaller and more powerful.
Another thing that's been on my mind is the placement of the densities. Do these units have to be extra high density in the center surrounded by progressively lower density orgonite? What if the mobius coil fired up a medium density inner core that stimulated the extra high density material surrounding around it?
The pulsar I built earlier had the extra high density stuff on top to direct the energy flow like a laser. Wouldn't a torus shaped unit like this be more like a hyper-dimensional, non-linear, inside out laser with the surface as the business end with the heaviest concentration in the center vortex?
Looks like the only way to find out is to build a punkin 2.
I'll keep ya posted.
I thought about a bundt mold years ago and disregarded the shape, primarily because it wasn't smooth and I thought an angel-food cake pan showed more promise. But the more I thought about it, the more obsessed I got with the shape and began to consider the decorative ridges going from the outside edge to the open center might actually help to structure the energy flow in that unique wrap around way only a powered up orgonite toroid can do.
While still talking and ranting about shapes and energy flow, part of my mind was doing an on-hand inventory of the materials needed for this project.
...bla, bla, bla, cascading densities...
round cake pan, check.
...bla, bla, bla, mobius coil, maybe 24 gauge...
I still have that extra gallon of resin I bought last month, check.
...It's the shape, man. That toroid shape that makes it happen!...
There's a spool of wire in the back room next to the pyramid molds, check.
...And those ridges that go from large on the outside to small on the inside should direct all that energy to the business end, the center vortex, baby!...
I know I saw a bundt cake pan in Kmart for under ten bucks. Iron oxide, powdered copper, vasoline, check, check, check.
I couldn't wait to start. And just as expected, the project was a sloppy, disorganized, chaotic, improvisational mess from start to finish. Yeah, I make orgonite like I cook. A pinch of this, a handful of that, a few last minute changes, some gravy stains, and a surprise every time.
This project was no exception.
Kinda looks like a pumpkin, don't it? If you can come up with a better name than punkin 1 I'm all ears.
You probably noticed a few light discolorations around the hemisphere and part way in the vortex. Those used to be voids where the two hemispheres didn't quite form properly or where the resin cured too fast and produced cracks.
It happens. The temps were in the mid 60's, there was lots of sand and powdered metals in the mix, and lots of resin poured at once, making this project much harder than I anticipated. It doesn't help that this was my first big pour since last fall and I didn't have my act half together for something like this.
But, what the hell. If everything was easy, we'd never learn anything. In this case, I learned plenty.
Before I made any repairs to the voids I hooked up frequency and fired this thing up. Twenty minutes later it just sat there, dead as a doornail. Well, THAT sucks! It took me a couple days and gallons of resin to produce a boat anchor. And an ugly boat anchor, at that.
BUT... (Yeah, I know that's a big but. Everybody's got a big but, ok?) At least I get to see if my edge theory works with a practical demonstration comparing a unit with a sharp edged bunch of voids with the same unit free from any kind of surface imperfections. Some Bondo applied with a Popsicle stick and cleaned up with a dremel restored it's form. I topped it off with a few coats of shellac as a sealant and organic layer and fired it up eight hours later.
It took about two minutes to charge up before I began to feel the energy field forming around this unit. The smooth shape let the energy envelope the unit and concentrate in the hourglass shaped center vortex. Unlike the other units I built, this one doesn't need a central core to put out the energy. It runs great all by itself but way better with a big ass crystal. It also does a good job supercharging orgonite and seems to display some pretty awesome manifestation capabilities.
Be that as it may, I still made plenty of mistakes. This prototype may not be as kick-ass as I would like but I can use this unit as a learning tool.
For one, the inner core mass should have been more proportional to the medium density mass surrounding it, making it smaller and more powerful.
Another thing that's been on my mind is the placement of the densities. Do these units have to be extra high density in the center surrounded by progressively lower density orgonite? What if the mobius coil fired up a medium density inner core that stimulated the extra high density material surrounding around it?
The pulsar I built earlier had the extra high density stuff on top to direct the energy flow like a laser. Wouldn't a torus shaped unit like this be more like a hyper-dimensional, non-linear, inside out laser with the surface as the business end with the heaviest concentration in the center vortex?
Looks like the only way to find out is to build a punkin 2.
I'll keep ya posted.
Friday, June 13, 2014
comfortably numb
It seems my blog posts have been a little weak, lately. An average of a post a month gives the impression I don't have anything to say or I may have slipped into a state of long term slothfulness. Not so. Well, maybe a little slothfulness with the excuse of R&R, downtime, or research so I don't take on the appearance of a total slug.
To be honest, I've been making orgonite as soon as the weather allowed, produced several gallons of high proof fuel in a colorful assortment of mind numbing flavors, managed to extract monatomic gold from sea water, developed a new design for a field generator, made some colloidal silver, produced some extremely cool extracts from 130 proof alcohol and herbs, and came to the conclusion our present form of government is a scripted reality show just as bizarre as Bob Dole in The Real World.
"Bob Dole loves peanut butter! Bob Dole has never made a secret of this! Someone ate Bob Dole's peanut butter! If you want to chip in thats another story!"
The extracts came out of left field and opened the door to a level of herbal cures that border on awesome. I thought the coffee bean extract made with 120 proof corn liker was the closest thing to legal meth but the antidepressant made from honey, vanilla, black pepper, aloe, and some homemade spiced rum totally blew me away with the first, and only, sip. How can I describe it? Imagine liquid black pepper smothered with creamy sweet honey and vanilla and hints of tropical rum leaving a comfortable capsicum burn from your mouth all the way down your esophagus. The effect was the awesome part. Within seconds after the first taste I could feel a distinctive endorphin rush I haven't felt since the last time I gorged myself on hot and sour soup, extra hot general tso's chicken, and an egg roll with real chinese mustard. Sorta kinda comfortably numb.
That shit put me in a state of total bliss that lasted the rest of the day. All I wanted to do was sit on the porch, watch the rain, and know full and well all's right with the world. Doing it straight might not be everyone's cup of tea but I'll bet an ounce or two in a fifth of rum will alter the mood of any party.
If anyone's interested, let me know and I'll be glad to send a sample.
I would have included a few pics but that would mean getting up and doing something.
How bout Polka Floyd instead?
To be honest, I've been making orgonite as soon as the weather allowed, produced several gallons of high proof fuel in a colorful assortment of mind numbing flavors, managed to extract monatomic gold from sea water, developed a new design for a field generator, made some colloidal silver, produced some extremely cool extracts from 130 proof alcohol and herbs, and came to the conclusion our present form of government is a scripted reality show just as bizarre as Bob Dole in The Real World.
"Bob Dole loves peanut butter! Bob Dole has never made a secret of this! Someone ate Bob Dole's peanut butter! If you want to chip in thats another story!"
The extracts came out of left field and opened the door to a level of herbal cures that border on awesome. I thought the coffee bean extract made with 120 proof corn liker was the closest thing to legal meth but the antidepressant made from honey, vanilla, black pepper, aloe, and some homemade spiced rum totally blew me away with the first, and only, sip. How can I describe it? Imagine liquid black pepper smothered with creamy sweet honey and vanilla and hints of tropical rum leaving a comfortable capsicum burn from your mouth all the way down your esophagus. The effect was the awesome part. Within seconds after the first taste I could feel a distinctive endorphin rush I haven't felt since the last time I gorged myself on hot and sour soup, extra hot general tso's chicken, and an egg roll with real chinese mustard. Sorta kinda comfortably numb.
That shit put me in a state of total bliss that lasted the rest of the day. All I wanted to do was sit on the porch, watch the rain, and know full and well all's right with the world. Doing it straight might not be everyone's cup of tea but I'll bet an ounce or two in a fifth of rum will alter the mood of any party.
If anyone's interested, let me know and I'll be glad to send a sample.
I would have included a few pics but that would mean getting up and doing something.
How bout Polka Floyd instead?
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Saturday, June 07, 2014
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
gold digging whores
By now we all know about Donald Sterling and his racist attitudes about basketball players and because of that, Magic Johnson won't go to another Clippers game as long as Sterling is the owner.
Apparently, a conversation between the eighty year old billionaire and his girl friend was recorded by someone, given to TMZ who released it to the public and Sterling was banished from going to any games and fined a couple million bucks. The question on everyone's mind should be, who set up the recording and gave it to TMZ to destroy this man? Ya think his gold digging whore of a girlfriend might have anything to do with it? Hmmmmmmmm?
I figured there must be more to this so I listened to the recording and read the transcript. As usual, the mainstream media took liberty in placing emphasis on a few things Sterling said that raised the hackles of more black people than the Trayvon Martin killing. Even Obama got on TV and said what an awful scum bag this billionaire racist is. Doesn't matter that Obama was in Malaysia when he said this, as if Malaysians could give a rats ass about basketball or the opinion of an eighty year old rich guy. They have their own problems, like a jumbo jet disappearing with American black ops fingerprints all over it.
Come to think of it, Obama seems to have direct involvement with damn near every tragedy on the news. He was shedding fake tears on TV over the fake Sandy Hook shootings and even went there for a photo-op. He got on TV after another staged operation involving a lone gunman shooting up theater goers in Aurora, CO., where he also went for a great photo-op. He was right on the fake Gifford shooting, the Fort Hood shootings 2009 and 2014, and the Washington Naval Yard shootings. (staged event) Obama also got on TV and told the world if he had a son he would be just like Trayvon Martin, the guy who was shot by Zimmerman in self defense. Obama even got on TV after they found Zimmerman not guilty and implied it was a miscarriage of justice. Gun control and race issues seems to be the only things Obama finds newsworthy enough to comment on.
I'll go so far as to say if it wasn't for Obama spouting his dumb ass opinions about Trayvon Martin and Donald Sterling, there wouldn't be any race issues to fight over.
This Obama race baiting is a diversionary tactic to keep our focus off what's really going on. Forget about this racist crap and keep a look out for a war with Syria in 2014.
Anyway... Why isn't Obama talking about gold digging whores? Anyone?
Apparently, a conversation between the eighty year old billionaire and his girl friend was recorded by someone, given to TMZ who released it to the public and Sterling was banished from going to any games and fined a couple million bucks. The question on everyone's mind should be, who set up the recording and gave it to TMZ to destroy this man? Ya think his gold digging whore of a girlfriend might have anything to do with it? Hmmmmmmmm?
I figured there must be more to this so I listened to the recording and read the transcript. As usual, the mainstream media took liberty in placing emphasis on a few things Sterling said that raised the hackles of more black people than the Trayvon Martin killing. Even Obama got on TV and said what an awful scum bag this billionaire racist is. Doesn't matter that Obama was in Malaysia when he said this, as if Malaysians could give a rats ass about basketball or the opinion of an eighty year old rich guy. They have their own problems, like a jumbo jet disappearing with American black ops fingerprints all over it.
Come to think of it, Obama seems to have direct involvement with damn near every tragedy on the news. He was shedding fake tears on TV over the fake Sandy Hook shootings and even went there for a photo-op. He got on TV after another staged operation involving a lone gunman shooting up theater goers in Aurora, CO., where he also went for a great photo-op. He was right on the fake Gifford shooting, the Fort Hood shootings 2009 and 2014, and the Washington Naval Yard shootings. (staged event) Obama also got on TV and told the world if he had a son he would be just like Trayvon Martin, the guy who was shot by Zimmerman in self defense. Obama even got on TV after they found Zimmerman not guilty and implied it was a miscarriage of justice. Gun control and race issues seems to be the only things Obama finds newsworthy enough to comment on.
I'll go so far as to say if it wasn't for Obama spouting his dumb ass opinions about Trayvon Martin and Donald Sterling, there wouldn't be any race issues to fight over.
This Obama race baiting is a diversionary tactic to keep our focus off what's really going on. Forget about this racist crap and keep a look out for a war with Syria in 2014.
Anyway... Why isn't Obama talking about gold digging whores? Anyone?
Thursday, April 10, 2014
cinematic intuition
I've learned a long time ago to pay attention to my intuition when rational thought seems to make more sense. Brains work with available data to construct a rational idea. Intuition is inspiration out of left field and more often than not, it's ignored by rational thought. It's the difference between free-form art and coloring by numbers. Sometimes your brain gets in your own way.
Last week I had three movies in mind I couldn't shake. Dune, 1984, and Dr. Strangelove. It's been years since I saw either of these flicks but for reasons I can't explain I had this burning desire to see them again. What's more, my cinematic appetites required me to see them in a specific sequence starting with Dr. Strangelove.
We all know the plot line. Renegade general goes off his nut and launches a nuclear attack on Russia triggering the doomsday machine the Russians developed to offset the ever increasing costs of the arms race, the space race, and the peace race.
General Jack Ripper saw the introduction of fluoride in our food and water as an international commie conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids and more than enough reason to launch a full nuclear attack.
Fifty years later... Endorsed by the American Dental Association, fluoride is now in every major water supply in the US as well as most canned food, processed food, tooth paste, ice cream, fast food, and the air we breathe. All vaccines in the US contain fluoride and mercury and the CDC requires all American children to receive up to 23 vaccinations in their first 23 months of life, alone.
Before 1946 fluoride was an effective rat poison and was fed to Nazi concentration camp prisoners to keep them docile and accept their fates. How does that fit into your international commie conspiracy?
Dr. Strangelove wasn't about the horror of nuclear war. It was about the enslavement of humanity and one man's effort to stop it.
The next night was David Lynch's Dune and I couldn't be more pleased. Just the idea of taking Herbert's pondering epic and transforming it into a two hour popcorn fest was totally impossible but this was David Lynch at his bizarre best. Pre-cgi and green screen, Lynch used models, hand painted cells, individual thought narration, and the best craftsmen in the business to get the look he wanted. He still considers Dune his epic failure because he didn't have final cut and an extra hour of run time.
I won't even try to summarize Dune in one paragraph but I'll focus on an important aspect of the film.
Critics were told by the powers that be to bury Dune because it was supposed to be an action film like Star Wars, but Lynch ended up making a spiritual film about consciousness and evolution. Every once in a while Hollywood greenlights such a project but doesn't like it when they realized what they approved wasn't a shoot-em-up space western. The studio's job isn't just to make money but dumb people down in the process.
The weirding way from the book was a concept far too complex for movie goers to comprehend so a weirding module was included in the movie as a bridge but the result is the same. A devastating weapon used only by the righteous to conquer evil. It had unlimited power, required no ammunition, with only the will and a word as it's trigger. Directed consciousness to defeat a foe. Did anyone notice the black pyramid on top of the weirding module? Ya think it was made of orgonite? Hmmmm?
Dune was all about spice, a substance found only on Dune that heightens consciousness, folds space, makes human computers possible, and without it society will crumble.
"He who can destroy a thing, controls a thing."
Dune was about the enslavement of humanity and one man's successful effort to stop it.
Clearly, this was the message from flick 2.
It was April 4th when I viewed 1984, the third and last movie I moderately obsessed over.
I don't know why I liked this movie so much. It's bleak, dark, dirty, disgusting, and the epitome of an over-the-top Orwellian nightmare, but for reasons I can't explain, it always cheered me up when I was down. And now I get to see it again. Oh joy!
Winston Smith... What a loser. This guy worked for the ministry of truth re-writing history for the masses. A low level bureaucratic drone working for Big Brother putting out fake news. He knows it's fake but does it anyway, just like our main stream media does. And just like today's journalists, he sits at a desk and reports whatever crap his masters tell him to do. Re-writing history includes making someone an unperson, erasing all evidence they ever existed, including co-workers and friends, as if Winston ever had any friends. He knows what he's doing and knows it's wrong but does it anyway. He knows there's a movement against Big Brother, as well as everyone else, but no one talks about it because thought-crime is death so everyone tucks tail and goes along with the program until they cease to exist. He meets Julia, gets laid, talks treason to the wrong person, and both of them spend a few weeks in the Ministry of Love where they get tortured in the most horrible ways imaginable and confess to every crime they're asked before they get a bullet in the back of the head when they least expect it. At least he got laid.
As I was watching this film I couldn't help but wonder if I knew I would get caught and tortured for weeks and disappear without so much as a whimper, would I kick up a fuss first? Maybe an impulsive kick in the balls and a fist in the face with a loud rebel yell for starters. Did ya see that coming, Mr. thought policeman?
My guess is too much fluoride in the food turned everyone into docile slaves while the constant barrage of never ending war, increasing austerity, manufactured frankin-food, and the occasional missile attack broadcast on the Big Brother network 24/7/365 keeps everyone in a state of low level trauma, susceptible and accepting of any fate that awaits them. Kinda like today.
The one thing that made me do a double take was the date in Winston's journal. It was the same date I watched the movie. April 4. As enjoyable as it was watching Winston's wretched life go from bad to worse while he endured unimaginable torture and brainwashing at the hands of the thought police, I can't help thinking the only reason this flick was thrown in with the other two was to see the date in his diary. Like saying, Yep, it's no accident.
I find it interesting that 1984 is the only movie in this group that doesn't focus on water as a constant theme. The only fluids anyone drinks in 1984 is gin and the only scene involving water is when Winston tries to unplug his neighbors sink full of a substance better suited to the toilet in a dysentery ward.
Let's recap.
Dr Strangelove. General Jack Ripper launches a nuclear attack on Russia to prevent the fluoridation of our water and precious bodily fluids to free humanity.
Dune. Paul Atreides becomes the universes super-being and messiah by drinking the water of life and freeing humanity with spirituality as a weapon against evil.
1984. Winston Smith has fluid exchange with his girlfriend and dies a useless death. Water is unfit to drink.
In your opinion, which of these three movie scenarios is closest to your reality?
Bottled water anyone?
Last week I had three movies in mind I couldn't shake. Dune, 1984, and Dr. Strangelove. It's been years since I saw either of these flicks but for reasons I can't explain I had this burning desire to see them again. What's more, my cinematic appetites required me to see them in a specific sequence starting with Dr. Strangelove.
We all know the plot line. Renegade general goes off his nut and launches a nuclear attack on Russia triggering the doomsday machine the Russians developed to offset the ever increasing costs of the arms race, the space race, and the peace race.
General Jack Ripper saw the introduction of fluoride in our food and water as an international commie conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids and more than enough reason to launch a full nuclear attack.
Fifty years later... Endorsed by the American Dental Association, fluoride is now in every major water supply in the US as well as most canned food, processed food, tooth paste, ice cream, fast food, and the air we breathe. All vaccines in the US contain fluoride and mercury and the CDC requires all American children to receive up to 23 vaccinations in their first 23 months of life, alone.
Before 1946 fluoride was an effective rat poison and was fed to Nazi concentration camp prisoners to keep them docile and accept their fates. How does that fit into your international commie conspiracy?
Dr. Strangelove wasn't about the horror of nuclear war. It was about the enslavement of humanity and one man's effort to stop it.
The next night was David Lynch's Dune and I couldn't be more pleased. Just the idea of taking Herbert's pondering epic and transforming it into a two hour popcorn fest was totally impossible but this was David Lynch at his bizarre best. Pre-cgi and green screen, Lynch used models, hand painted cells, individual thought narration, and the best craftsmen in the business to get the look he wanted. He still considers Dune his epic failure because he didn't have final cut and an extra hour of run time.
I won't even try to summarize Dune in one paragraph but I'll focus on an important aspect of the film.
Critics were told by the powers that be to bury Dune because it was supposed to be an action film like Star Wars, but Lynch ended up making a spiritual film about consciousness and evolution. Every once in a while Hollywood greenlights such a project but doesn't like it when they realized what they approved wasn't a shoot-em-up space western. The studio's job isn't just to make money but dumb people down in the process.
The weirding way from the book was a concept far too complex for movie goers to comprehend so a weirding module was included in the movie as a bridge but the result is the same. A devastating weapon used only by the righteous to conquer evil. It had unlimited power, required no ammunition, with only the will and a word as it's trigger. Directed consciousness to defeat a foe. Did anyone notice the black pyramid on top of the weirding module? Ya think it was made of orgonite? Hmmmm?
Dune was all about spice, a substance found only on Dune that heightens consciousness, folds space, makes human computers possible, and without it society will crumble.
"He who can destroy a thing, controls a thing."
Dune was about the enslavement of humanity and one man's successful effort to stop it.
Clearly, this was the message from flick 2.
It was April 4th when I viewed 1984, the third and last movie I moderately obsessed over.
I don't know why I liked this movie so much. It's bleak, dark, dirty, disgusting, and the epitome of an over-the-top Orwellian nightmare, but for reasons I can't explain, it always cheered me up when I was down. And now I get to see it again. Oh joy!
Winston Smith... What a loser. This guy worked for the ministry of truth re-writing history for the masses. A low level bureaucratic drone working for Big Brother putting out fake news. He knows it's fake but does it anyway, just like our main stream media does. And just like today's journalists, he sits at a desk and reports whatever crap his masters tell him to do. Re-writing history includes making someone an unperson, erasing all evidence they ever existed, including co-workers and friends, as if Winston ever had any friends. He knows what he's doing and knows it's wrong but does it anyway. He knows there's a movement against Big Brother, as well as everyone else, but no one talks about it because thought-crime is death so everyone tucks tail and goes along with the program until they cease to exist. He meets Julia, gets laid, talks treason to the wrong person, and both of them spend a few weeks in the Ministry of Love where they get tortured in the most horrible ways imaginable and confess to every crime they're asked before they get a bullet in the back of the head when they least expect it. At least he got laid.
As I was watching this film I couldn't help but wonder if I knew I would get caught and tortured for weeks and disappear without so much as a whimper, would I kick up a fuss first? Maybe an impulsive kick in the balls and a fist in the face with a loud rebel yell for starters. Did ya see that coming, Mr. thought policeman?
My guess is too much fluoride in the food turned everyone into docile slaves while the constant barrage of never ending war, increasing austerity, manufactured frankin-food, and the occasional missile attack broadcast on the Big Brother network 24/7/365 keeps everyone in a state of low level trauma, susceptible and accepting of any fate that awaits them. Kinda like today.
The one thing that made me do a double take was the date in Winston's journal. It was the same date I watched the movie. April 4. As enjoyable as it was watching Winston's wretched life go from bad to worse while he endured unimaginable torture and brainwashing at the hands of the thought police, I can't help thinking the only reason this flick was thrown in with the other two was to see the date in his diary. Like saying, Yep, it's no accident.
I find it interesting that 1984 is the only movie in this group that doesn't focus on water as a constant theme. The only fluids anyone drinks in 1984 is gin and the only scene involving water is when Winston tries to unplug his neighbors sink full of a substance better suited to the toilet in a dysentery ward.
Let's recap.
Dr Strangelove. General Jack Ripper launches a nuclear attack on Russia to prevent the fluoridation of our water and precious bodily fluids to free humanity.
Dune. Paul Atreides becomes the universes super-being and messiah by drinking the water of life and freeing humanity with spirituality as a weapon against evil.
1984. Winston Smith has fluid exchange with his girlfriend and dies a useless death. Water is unfit to drink.
In your opinion, which of these three movie scenarios is closest to your reality?
Bottled water anyone?
Sunday, February 09, 2014
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
superman
I was driving home from work the other day when a thought came to me.
How cool would it be to have Superman as a neighbor! We all have these little problems from time to time that require jumping through hoops to overcome. Big problems for us but a walk in the park for Superman. He can easily lift your car off the ground so you can stand up while changing your oil and chit chat while he's doing it.
"Hey Superman, I'm about to clean the chimney. How bout a hand?" Childs play... He'll just fly to the top of the house and blow the dirt down the chimney and test it out with his heat vision.
Even though he'd gladly help out in a neighborly way, I don't think I'd feel right imposing on our friendship by asking him to do my chores. He has his own chores to do, like mowing the lawn and dead-heading the roses. Ok, so he can run at light speed but his mower blades can go only so fast and that means the man of steel has no choice but to take his time and stroll behind his push mower like any other property owner.
Just like anyone else, I'll bet Superman really needs some R & R from fighting crime 24/7/365. Just because he's an alien in a strange world doesn't mean he should be expected to jump up and fix every little emergency that comes along. Superman needs a vacation too and I'll bet he would love to hang out with humans, other than Jimmy and Lois, and just let his hair down and be himself.
Superman doesn't smoke, drink or swear and that might be the reason he spends all his time working at the Daily Planet pretending to be human. As if journalists don't smoke, drink or swear. That just shows you how hard it must be for a total alien to blend, even for the man of steel. He never gets to hang with his peer group because he has no peers. They all died when Krypton blew up. Superman stands alone as a super hero pretending to be human, where all the other super heroes are humans wearing masks when they transform. The only time he can truly be himself is when he dons his tights and cape, gets into his alien god character and flies off to serve his adopted race, helping those too stupid and weak to help themselves.
I think all Superman needs is some real people to hang with who won't ask him to do tricks.
me: Hey Superman, I'm having a little party next door. Wanna stop by for some burgers and beer?
Superman: I don't drink.
me: Why not? It's not like you'll get drunk or anything. You can drink a river of rum and still fly a straight line.
Superman: I don't smoke, drink or swear.
me: Do you eat clams?
Superman: I love clams. I'll be right over.
As the steaks are charing, Superman makes his entrance by gliding over the tree tops and does a soft landing in the back yard by the beer cooler, where one of the guests offer him a beer. He looks at it as if he's using x ray vision to see what's inside when someone says, "Go on, S man, crack it open. It's not like you'll fly into trees and piss your tights." Soon, the man of steel slam his first of many Yuenglings and lets out a belch that downs three walnut trees in the meadow, raising gales of laughter and rebel yells from the semi-inebriated party guests.
The only fly in the ointment is Superman's zero tolerance for law breakers. No one dares fire up a joint while this alien top cop is hanging around and Superman's total memory recall has already pulled a rap sheet on every felon at this gathering and he's making everyone nervous with his pointed questions about overdue library books, oxycontin sales, meth labs, and talks of revolution 100 yards away in the basement with all the doors and windows closed while the living room music was up full blast.
It's obvious. This guy is potentially dangerous, in a very extreme way.
Soon, the idea of partying with Superman doesn't sound like a good idea. This guy, with his super hearing, super eyesight, and total memory recall is worse than a party full of NSA agents on steroids. His invulnerability and super strength ensures he always gets his way, usually bypassing the judicial system and depositing lawbreakers in the prison of his choice. A lifetime of superior intellect and zero tolerance for lawbreakers, with never so much as a challenge, argument, or disagreement from any human as to how he dishes out his single-minded form of immediate justice, produced an alien super being, secretly living amongst us, who has never experienced any kind of opposition to his will. In short, a bully disguised as a good guy who dresses funny, with little more than a code of conduct preventing him from laying waste to the entire planet.
Now that I think about it, I'd prefer Superman to stay as far away from humanity as possible and thank god his little space ship crashed in Nebraska instead of Nazi Germany.
By comparison, Lex Luthor would be more fun to hang with.
It seems Superman needs Jimmy and Lois more than they need him.
Truly, a stranger in a strange land without a hope of ever knowing what being human is like. No peers, no friends, and his closest relationships are a couple of nosy reporters who talk about him behind his back and worship him for what he can do for them.
I find Superman to be a pitiable creature and he has my deepest sympathies.
How cool would it be to have Superman as a neighbor! We all have these little problems from time to time that require jumping through hoops to overcome. Big problems for us but a walk in the park for Superman. He can easily lift your car off the ground so you can stand up while changing your oil and chit chat while he's doing it.
"Hey Superman, I'm about to clean the chimney. How bout a hand?" Childs play... He'll just fly to the top of the house and blow the dirt down the chimney and test it out with his heat vision.
Even though he'd gladly help out in a neighborly way, I don't think I'd feel right imposing on our friendship by asking him to do my chores. He has his own chores to do, like mowing the lawn and dead-heading the roses. Ok, so he can run at light speed but his mower blades can go only so fast and that means the man of steel has no choice but to take his time and stroll behind his push mower like any other property owner.
Just like anyone else, I'll bet Superman really needs some R & R from fighting crime 24/7/365. Just because he's an alien in a strange world doesn't mean he should be expected to jump up and fix every little emergency that comes along. Superman needs a vacation too and I'll bet he would love to hang out with humans, other than Jimmy and Lois, and just let his hair down and be himself.
Superman doesn't smoke, drink or swear and that might be the reason he spends all his time working at the Daily Planet pretending to be human. As if journalists don't smoke, drink or swear. That just shows you how hard it must be for a total alien to blend, even for the man of steel. He never gets to hang with his peer group because he has no peers. They all died when Krypton blew up. Superman stands alone as a super hero pretending to be human, where all the other super heroes are humans wearing masks when they transform. The only time he can truly be himself is when he dons his tights and cape, gets into his alien god character and flies off to serve his adopted race, helping those too stupid and weak to help themselves.
I think all Superman needs is some real people to hang with who won't ask him to do tricks.
me: Hey Superman, I'm having a little party next door. Wanna stop by for some burgers and beer?
Superman: I don't drink.
me: Why not? It's not like you'll get drunk or anything. You can drink a river of rum and still fly a straight line.
Superman: I don't smoke, drink or swear.
me: Do you eat clams?
Superman: I love clams. I'll be right over.
As the steaks are charing, Superman makes his entrance by gliding over the tree tops and does a soft landing in the back yard by the beer cooler, where one of the guests offer him a beer. He looks at it as if he's using x ray vision to see what's inside when someone says, "Go on, S man, crack it open. It's not like you'll fly into trees and piss your tights." Soon, the man of steel slam his first of many Yuenglings and lets out a belch that downs three walnut trees in the meadow, raising gales of laughter and rebel yells from the semi-inebriated party guests.
The only fly in the ointment is Superman's zero tolerance for law breakers. No one dares fire up a joint while this alien top cop is hanging around and Superman's total memory recall has already pulled a rap sheet on every felon at this gathering and he's making everyone nervous with his pointed questions about overdue library books, oxycontin sales, meth labs, and talks of revolution 100 yards away in the basement with all the doors and windows closed while the living room music was up full blast.
It's obvious. This guy is potentially dangerous, in a very extreme way.
Soon, the idea of partying with Superman doesn't sound like a good idea. This guy, with his super hearing, super eyesight, and total memory recall is worse than a party full of NSA agents on steroids. His invulnerability and super strength ensures he always gets his way, usually bypassing the judicial system and depositing lawbreakers in the prison of his choice. A lifetime of superior intellect and zero tolerance for lawbreakers, with never so much as a challenge, argument, or disagreement from any human as to how he dishes out his single-minded form of immediate justice, produced an alien super being, secretly living amongst us, who has never experienced any kind of opposition to his will. In short, a bully disguised as a good guy who dresses funny, with little more than a code of conduct preventing him from laying waste to the entire planet.
Now that I think about it, I'd prefer Superman to stay as far away from humanity as possible and thank god his little space ship crashed in Nebraska instead of Nazi Germany.
By comparison, Lex Luthor would be more fun to hang with.
It seems Superman needs Jimmy and Lois more than they need him.
Truly, a stranger in a strange land without a hope of ever knowing what being human is like. No peers, no friends, and his closest relationships are a couple of nosy reporters who talk about him behind his back and worship him for what he can do for them.
I find Superman to be a pitiable creature and he has my deepest sympathies.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
stuff up the cracks, highway star
I was surfing Jon Lord and through tangents and torrents I ended up with this little Zappa gem that cycled me down to a simpler time of love and death angst.
But, then again, Jon Lord had his own version of love and death angst in the form of a Hammond C3 organ driving through Marshall speakers in an effort to match the attack and volume of Blackmore's guitar in Highway Star.
One is white port and lemon juice. The other is speed and black Afghanistan at 40 bucks an ounce.
In case you're wondering why they don't make music like this anymore... They're all dead, leaving the rest of us with survival angst.
I tried playing both of these tunes at the same time, thinking it might have the same effect as mixing cocaine and heroin. It doesn't. But don't take my word for it. Last I heard, music is still a legal high, so experiment away!
So, what'll it be? Sedation or adrenaline?
But, then again, Jon Lord had his own version of love and death angst in the form of a Hammond C3 organ driving through Marshall speakers in an effort to match the attack and volume of Blackmore's guitar in Highway Star.
One is white port and lemon juice. The other is speed and black Afghanistan at 40 bucks an ounce.
In case you're wondering why they don't make music like this anymore... They're all dead, leaving the rest of us with survival angst.
I tried playing both of these tunes at the same time, thinking it might have the same effect as mixing cocaine and heroin. It doesn't. But don't take my word for it. Last I heard, music is still a legal high, so experiment away!
So, what'll it be? Sedation or adrenaline?
Thursday, December 05, 2013
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