Vaccine Anti-Propaganda Site Attacked

More than once I’ve presented evidence here against modern vaccines. That’s not to say no vaccine does what is claimed, but that most of the newer ones don’t. One of the sites I tend to watch for information about this is The Natural Society.
In the last few days, there site was cracked by someone who obviously didn’t appreciate the new campaign: Vaccine Information Week. Near as I can tell, it was specifically targeting this event.
So what better advertising to the importance of something than to see big money try to take it off the Net?

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Triumph of the Tribe

God revealed Himself in a cultural context, one He designed and implemented Himself as the ideal for humanity. The context is part of the revelation.
God’s revealed Laws presume a tribal nation social structure. The promises are conditioned on this assumption, though it’s not absolute. You can approach the Laws and blessings begin to manifest, but the really good stuff is reserved for those who truly commit themselves. Further, it’s wired into the Creation itself. No other system will really work for very long. His Laws further presume a government which arises from this same social structure, using the cultural and intellectual climate as your guide.
It won’t matter what flaws you see in this model for human life. For all its flaws, nothing better is possible. God is not impressed with your Aristotelian logical evaluations. Aristotle rejected revelation, so you aren’t even on the same planet unless you understand and use the intellectual frame of reference in which revelation was given.
Not fair, you say? Argue with God; I’m just reporting what He says. Nothing in my hands or in my words is a threat to your plans and dreams to the contrary. It’s simply my responsibility to remind you of what He actually says so you can’t deceive yourself that He somehow must bless your brilliant ideas. The only reason I rehash this so often is because people stumble upon my blog and presume I’m somehow obliged to answer their personal objections for the thousandth time.
So we have ample precedent in Scripture that a unified tribal nation is the most just society possible. It’s not just good; it’s effective. It’s just. We also have ample precedent one tribe cannot rule another for too long. If there is a tribe with some implacable hatred for your tribe, you either need to put some distance or other major barrier between your tribes, absorb them completely and dissipate their identity, or destroy them. If they are less than implacable, the options are much greater. You can even share the same space, so long as there is mutual respect and a maintenance of separate identities. Obviously, it requires sharing substantial cultural elements. The more foreign, the less possible it is.
Cosmopolitan neutrality is possible only in select urban environs, not in the living space itself. Precious few humans can maintain their personal integrity by living in such a city, so precious few should try it. Again, this is the immutable facts of human nature. Enter the cosmo-place, do your business, then go home. Aside from the wholly different question of spiritual matters above human ken, there is a distinct human need to grow, then maintain, an identity which is related to a tribal society. There is an awful lot of room for fairly radical differences across human cultures even while we assume for the sake of discussion they all embrace the assumptions behind God’s Laws.
It’s not hard to understand, then, why some modern nations are so very stable regardless of their peculiar economic and political policies, and others are such wretched places regardless of their politics. Yes, there are problems everywhere, because all humanity is fallen. Yet within that assumption we see some places are downright attractive right now with their internal stability, and other places should be avoided at all costs.
Finland is nice; England is hideous. Whatever else you might say about the Finns, they are united in a vast range of common assumptions. They are closer to a tribal nation — one nation. The variations are mild and narrow. England has never been so.
England has always been one tribe ruling the rest. Not just rivalry between common stocks of people, but utterly alien nations always conquering and lording it over whomever was doing it before. You can pretend it was all one people, but it never has been. Inherent in the cultural roots of every people who have lived there is some awful assumption of absolutism in politics. This is the very foundation of warrior societies in the West. They are absolutist in demands, truculent in expression of them, and delighted to rub your faces in it with their feet pressing down against the backs of your heads. They aren’t content to win; they must glory in the misery and sorrow they bring to others. This shows in all the political assumptions you see in the UK and America. There has never been any real unity, nor can there be.
Sure, look at the vast ferment of intelligence, the energy to build and conquer. And then look at how it was born to die by its own hand. We could go further and talk about the fatalism of Germanic tribal cultural assumptions, but it’s no longer the point. What we have today is easily explained by the internal disunity of any given nation. Dominance by alien peoples is the result of denying the necessity and justness of tribal existence. The greatest empires of history lasted for so long only because they recognized this basic human fact, and fell when they forgot it. A basic assumption of God’s Laws includes the realization no tribe is best or better, but one of many. No tribe deserves to rule the others.
This brings us back to that implacable hatred. Holding someone under your feet is not a solution to conflict. God Himself won’t tolerate that for long (we do have to keep in mind His sense of time is totally different, though). He’ll keep blessing the downtrodden tribe so they rise up and make trouble for their overlords. The pain of hatred is the womb of warfare innovation, but peace is not possible on what people can dream up as some brilliant solution. Peace is not possible merely through civil rights so called, but by national rights and a tribal identity.
American politics in particular is inherently nasty. It presumes the fantasy of a single nation, which it has never been, and cannot be. It has always been an empire, and the big lie has been you can absorb all sorts of folks as they are, and ignore the tribal nature. Indeed, it has been to destroy the tribal identity, and replace with a fragmented loyalty to any number of new fake tribes, by associations which, at best, are a feeble replacement for a genuine tribe. The hatred is inculcated even as it is verbally denied. The most implacable hatreds grow and we are a nation of conflict forced to channel our warfare in ways the imperial government will tolerate. It’s layer upon layer of lies. The hope is this big lie permits a unified imperial policy which invades down the very core of what color underwear a man wears, and how often he washes it, and with what. If your every breath can be regulated, vast sums of profit can be made by whomever gets the contract on supplying your breath.
America has shook her fist in God’s face from the very beginning, and richly deserves to be destroyed. Human tribes will be here, by very human necessity, long after America is forgotten. The tribe which triumphs is not the one which holds the guns and collects the tribute; that will change inevitably and often. Nor is the tribe with builds the biggest and best and brightest, because whomever takes control of what was built won’t care who built it, and are unlikely to reverence its true source.
No, the tribe which will triumph is the tribe which remains a tribe. The nation within any empire which manages to remain a nation will outlive every empire which rules them. It is the nation which endures because what they have is more precious than all the other things humanity pursues, and the people of that nation never forget the single immutable fact of their existence is their tribal identity.

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An Hour of Truth 4

He stopped and placed his hands on his thighs. Turning his thumbs outward, he locked his elbows. “At this point, ladies, I really have to focus on the guys, but the principles would be the same either way. You’ll grasp what I’m saying, probably more easily than the boys, if you are honest with yourselves.”
“Men, it’s on you to break out of this madness. The chances of you finding the right gal, the ultimate sweetheart, at this age is about zero. You aren’t ready for her, and in this society, she’s not ready for you. There’s nothing wrong with friendships to help you sharpen your understanding of these things, but you simply aren’t going to form a lasting bond at this stage of the game, so stop lying to yourself. The only thing truly worthy of your devotion is figuring out who you are and what your mission is. Even if only with a partial understanding, when you find your mission, you’ll be a man worthy of her attention.”
He stood straight for emphasis. Lifting his cupped hands again. “The path isn’t a straight line. The best way to find a women worth having is to be almost too busy to mess with her. Whether she’s hot, or simply available, has nothing to do with it. The one thing you need most from her is that her mission is you. You won’t recognize her until you are fully engaged in your mission. It’s up to her to show herself. She’ll show up and get involved because it calls to some need in her, something which drives her to act. She’ll realize the one thing in life worthy of her sacrifice and devotion is the man who’s pursuing her dreams already.”
He leaned back against the desk again, folding his arms across his chest. “When you realize a fine babe’s glorious beauty is simply a distraction, bait for a fool she doesn’t really want or need, you’ll be in a position to ignore all that flash and stay on your mission. You’ll draw women like flies, but you’ll know to swat ’em aside and stick with what really matters to you. The ones who get involved in your mission and stay with it are the only ones worth having.”
The thug spoke up again. “So what’s your mission, Mr. Jansen?”
The bell rang and the sounds of the pep rally breaking up could be heard and felt.
“My mission is to understand and teach stuff like this to people like you. Everything else is just a way to pay the bills.”
He resumed his seat behind the desk as the noise of student traffic flooded the hall outside the door like a tsunami. “Turn back around and ponder that for awhile. Maybe write an essay on it and see if they’ll take it as a valid assignment for something. Actually using what I said will probably keep you from coming back here again.”
A few minutes later he was relieved by one of the staff. Passing out into the still very noisy hallway, he threaded his way through the press of bored young people and found the front door again. No one stopped him this time as he left the building without looking back.
End

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An Hour of Truth 3

When he didn’t elaborate, the Goth girl asked, “Do you mean ‘mission’ in some religious sense?”
He stood up and casually strolled around the front of the desk. “It could include that, but it’s much more.” Resting his butt against the front edge of the desk, he stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “The only man worth having is the one who knows why he exists. Even if he’s wrong in the absolute sense, it’s his conviction which carries him through. It’s the reason, when things go absolutely crazy, he doesn’t put the muzzle of a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Whether accomplishing anything is reasonable or possible, it won’t matter. A real man has something he has to do.”
He crossed his arms. “It’s more than simple goals, education, career. Those are simply the methods and means; the mission is the thing a man must do, from which he could never walk away. It doesn’t change even if the whole world dies and he’s left alone. If he has the least conscious awareness of that thing, he’s a real man. It gives him the confidence to face any challenge, and the wisdom to ignore things that don’t matter.”
He turned and faced the two young ladies who got huffy at his earlier comment. “That’s what draws a woman’s admiration. Even when she consciously fails to admire it, her instincts betray her, making her want a piece of that.”
He stood and walked around the desk to face the one remaining section of an old chalkboard attached to the wall. “Here’s what usually happens at your age.” Picking up a piece of chalk, he wrote a word on the board: cathexis.
His manner became slightly dramatic as he warmed to the task of explaining. Turning back to the students, he held up his cupped left hand again. “Your hormones are raging.” Most of the kids snickered. “It’s all fresh and new. A lot of raw emotion wells up in places you don’t even understand. There is something you desperately need, and it’s too big and too confusing. Taking your cues from our basic social assumptions, you attempt to take the most direct path you can see to getting what you need” — holding up the cupped right hand.
“You are wide open. In your deception, you are primed for a certain set of cues. When your radar thinks it has identified a target, you dive in for the kill. That you often find someone willing to play along has nothing to do with whether that person can actually meet your needs. Most of the people you encounter in this building are suffering the same confused mess of burning need, so everyone is just grabbing the first thing that comes along. But we filter it through false ideals of what we ought to want, bogus cultural expectations.”
He returned to his half-sitting position on the front edge of the old desk. “We think it’s magic. There is that one ideal object of devotion out there who can save us from our misery, and we have to find them and win their affections. It won’t matter if they actually notice us; someone will stumble into that spotlight and we are lost in obsession.” He brought the two cupped hands almost together. “If it so happens they actually engage us in any way, we think we have found paradise. Our ego boundaries collapse.” He demonstrated with this hands opening flat, fingers splayed.
“For a time we lose sense of who we are, lost in the ecstasy of the moment. Our friends notice, but we are so desperate to hang onto this bit of paradise, no price is too great to pay in terms of adopting whatever changes seem most likely to nail this thing down.”
More snickers of recognition.
“That’s what ‘cathexis’ means,” pointing a thumb at the board behind him. “It’s almost like a religious conversion. Our beloved becomes our demigod or demigoddess. Too often they’ll sense this, and take advantage of us. Even if only at some instinctive level, when you place someone on a pedestal, they will hardly be able to do anything different. They’ll consume what you have to offer, but eventually it gets tiresome and they’ll drop you like a used Kleenex. And when you are both love-struck blind, it’s simply a question of whose ego boundaries snap back into place first.”

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Mea Culpa: Unfinished Business

A basic principle of prophecy is a message from God seldom informs; it always seeks to change human behavior. As such, taking it literally will result in mistakes. Prophetic messages are typically parabolic, often larded with hyperbole and drama.

The message I had from God the other day was in essence: Today is a good day to complete unfinished business. Everything else in that post was simply my own extensions, and I wasn’t really giving it proper consideration. So while I stand by the original message — change your behavior and get used to living in constant readiness for difficulty — I find I must eat those words I added to it.

To my knowledge, nothing happened which matches my explanation, not in the time frame I deduced. I was wrong.

I’m not sure I can convey the sort of internal struggle I’ve been having since the day the message impressed itself upon me. The thing itself was quite agitating, and I wasn’t sure what was going on, why this sense of disturbance and impatience was burning just outside my conscious mind. After some fervent prayer, I simply started doing stuff to keep my ego busy while the other parts of me struggled in the depths of my soul. At some point it surfaced in my intellect I was doing what the urging said. With that recognition came a shape for the message in words.

I’m still learning this calling. I want others who may sense the calling to have at least my current experience so they can compare notes. There is no pretense of setting a pattern, as if things will for others always echo my own experience. Without a college of prophets working together, I’m not sure it’s possible to hash out a discipline which is of necessity experiential in nature. My prophet’s manual (document no longer available) is simply a primer, not a graduate guide. The reason I confer with so few who claim to be established can be deduced by the many postings here by which I distance myself from much of mainstream Christianity, not to mention a large number of folks who walk about building little kingdoms with self-aggrandizing claims to the title of prophet.

I never asked for this; never saw it as something to which I should strive. I’m absolutely certain it was dropped on me against my wishes at the time. I’ve reconciled myself to some of the discomfort which comes with the mission, but I will never pretend to have this all worked out. By no means could I walk away from it. Keeping these messages to myself is simply unimaginable. But getting the message right, and remembering to remove my own personal clutter in the delivery, is something I simply must learn to do. And at this, I feel compelled to remain open and responsible to the One who called me, and to those He sent me.

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An Hour of Truth 2

There was only a moment of silence before one of the geeks raised his hand. He was obviously affecting a tone for his own amusement, a complex acceptance of the dare and offering his own challenge. “So, Mr. Jansen, how come so many of the girls here swoon over you?”
He almost laughed. “Have you asked them why?”
The young man, half grinned. “It didn’t seem necessary. They chattered endlessly about your hair and beard, your muscles, your voice…”
Just beyond age forty, Mr. Jansen had been careful to maintain his fitness, though he wasn’t particularly large. And while none of the staff were permitted facial hair, nor much hair at all, he had a rugged outdoorsman look with a trim beard and mustache, and locks of graying hair which just touched his collar. This was matched with his resonant bass voice. His appearance was simply what he wanted to see in the mirror, with no particular attempt to cultivate some false image. He said, “Those don’t really matter. Girls tend to deceive themselves on such things.”
A couple of the young ladies let out an exasperated “uh” sound. The others scowled except for the Goth, who simply grinned.
He grinned himself. On the desktop, he held up two cupped hands about shoulder width apart. Shaking the left, he explained, “On the one hand, we all have a collection of wishes, desires and other wants which together can be referred to as ‘human need’. The path between them is not a direct route.” Shaking the right, “On the other hand, we have a solid possibility of meeting those needs. It’s not perfect, but it is the best of what’s possible on this plane of existence.” He paused a moment, grabbing the tray used for collecting the assignments turned in by the students, placing it in the center of the desk. He returned his hands to their former position. “There is a lot of stuff most of us have to get through before we even come close to what we can have. Most of us never get there, because we simply can’t negotiate all the crap we are taught to believe.”
One of the geeks shot back, “Crap like we are taught here in this school?”
He smiled. “That, and a lot more. Our whole society is built on false perception, teaching us to want things we can’t get, and to ignore what really is possible. Even when we obtain what society tells us we should want, some part of us knows it’s not quite right. I contend we have utterly false images of what men and women ought to be, and what makes either one of them desirable. Even when we encounter something we desire, we tend to deceive ourselves about why we want it.”
The thug raised his hand. “So what makes you da man?”
He took a deep breath, then said simply, “The mission.”

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An Hour of Truth 1

He almost made it out the front door when her voice called him back.
Halting in mid-stride there in the school hallway, he turned to watch as she approached him with a purposeful stride. As Assistant Principle, Ms. Angelina seemed always in motion. While she was quickly reducing the distance between them, he savored for a moment the paradox of her name and the nature of her job. It was never good news when Ms. Angelina wanted to talk to you.
So even though he was merely a contractor on his last day at the site, he faced her approach with some trepidation.
She began speaking when barely within earshot. “Mr. Jansen, I need your help with something. I realize you’ve finished your assignment here, but your contract pays you up to the close of business. That’s another two hours.”
He groaned silently within himself.
She held him firmly by the arm and began walking him back the way she had come. “I realize it’s been quite a few years, but I know you were once certified to teach. We don’t have anyone to cover this one period, and there simply must be adult supervision of these kids. The rules are quite simple, and posted on the wall.”
She pulled up before the door of the detention room, and turned the knob. Through the doorway was a side view of the teacher’s desk. A school resource officer in the uniform of the county sheriff’s department sat impatiently waiting relief at the battered old gray metal desk. The whole room was intentionally spartan. Aside from the ancient padded desk chair behind the teacher’s desk, nothing in the room was supposed to be comfortable.
The officer brushed past without a word, heading down the hallway toward the noise of the cheer assembly vibrating through the facility. Ms. Angelina shut the door behind him before he had taken two steps inside the room. With a rather quiet sigh, he eased himself down into the still warm chair and turned to face the student inmates.
They had dared to bend the rules by turning their heads just far enough to see him out of the corner of one eye or the other. One student already had a hand raised to get his attention. He delayed responding to announce his name to them. “My name is Mr. Jansen. How can I help you, Miss?”
The young lady turned her head from between the panels of her pod. “Mr. Jansen, they didn’t give us any work to do during the pep rally.”
He snorted. Having already broken all the rules binding on the school administration, he wasn’t about to bind the kids to their rules, either. There was nothing they could do except refuse to give him another contract next year. If this last one was any representative sample, it served only to remind him why he walked away from public education long ago.
“Everyone turn around. Turn your chairs around and face me.” They complied, each in their own way. Surveying quickly, he saw the day’s collection of behavioral misfits. Some had been there a few days already, of course, but none of them were likely to be serious troublemakers. Otherwise, they would already have been sent to the alternative facility. While some of these had certainly acted out of malice, at least as many were simply trying to find their own way as individuals, caught in a conformist system. Worse, he felt it sought to conform people to highly questionable standards. Of the dozen or so there, at least three were serious geeks, far too intelligent to tolerate easily the burden of boredom. Another was probably quite the thug, but was currently self restrained. The rest weren’t so easily estimated, but he decided it didn’t matter.
“Ask a question. Any question. If you have the nerve to ask, I will do my best to give an honest answer. Anything at all.”

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Not a Truther

I don’t quite fit the common meaning of the label “Truther” (with or without the capitalization) particularly in the case of 9/11.
It’s not as if I’m going to espouse any part of the garbage offered by the official sources. I offer no space to anyone who promotes that. I may not be too sure what did happen, but the official story is patently false, obviously false, and there is no real excuse for anyone believing it. I don’t take myself too seriously, but I’ll not take you seriously at all if you defend the official lies.
On the other hand, a lot of Truthers are even worse than the mass of liars and the sheeple following them. I find it deeply embarrassing the way some of these people express themselves, particularly in their childish hostility against the defenders of the lies. And then there are those breathless headlines on a thousand blogs, and posts in forums IN ALL CAPS. Get a clue, folks. We are not the Truth Police and we surely have better things to do than wrangle with fools.
Yes, I’m an elitist in that sense. I maintain presentation means something. The best way to discredit truth is a foolish presentation. If you don’t understand why hitting your Caps Lock key is wrong, please keep your distance. Just stay with AOL and everything will be fine; you are easier to filter that way. For everyone else, I haven’t forgotten how to grade student history papers with fairness for content. If you are paying attention, you should be able to regurgitate some semblance of basic facts. But if you want to me like your stuff and read it when I could be doing something else, it has to be engaging.
As a grandparent, I have basically graduated beyond changing dirty diapers. I didn’t mind it when it was my turn, but it’s not any more. Too many of the Truthers are soiling themselves, and I just don’t have any reason to get involved any more. Let’s just say I’m a quirky skeptic about most things and leave it at that. Don’t label me a Truther.

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Finish Your Unfinished Business Today (Updated)

My Spidey Sense is jangling: Today is a good day to tie up those loose ends, to stop procrastinating on those little tasks necessary for life. Maybe you’ll have some opportunity tomorrow, but don’t count on it. By the day after, a great many people’s lives will be disrupted.
It’s not that I believe the hype about 9/11 celebrations by terrorist cells here in the US. Our government is the only real terrorist agency that matters. You see, when you have an emergency, most government agencies will respond as they wish, when they wish. If they have an emergency, you simply don’t matter unless you get in the way.
For example, all those wildfires in Texas — FEMA got involved. However bad it was, everything just got worse. The FEMA officials have already turned away a small army of volunteer firefighters. These folks didn’t just volunteer their well-trained time, but used their own resources to get there, and brought their own equipment. But FEMA is not prepared to control those volunteers, so they are not permitted to do any work. If FEMA isn’t ready to take control of something, no one is permitted to act, regardless what crisis is going on at the time.
It’s getting to the point the first thing you do in an emergency is shoot all the FEMA folks so you can start solving problems. The problem is, they always seem to show up with a bunch of armed thugs, who have bigger and better guns, and nothing better to do than make your life even more miserable. All we have to do is review Hurricane Katrina to remember that.
FEMA ain’t good people. Indeed, sometimes they are just about the worst of all the bad folks we face in government offices. Try to avoid them every chance you get.
But they are getting all geared up for a couple days from now, making plans to be in place “just in case something happens.” Whether any real or fake terror incidents of the sort they mean actually happen, their mere presence will precipitate a state of terror. I don’t have any inside information, but I would expect things like checkpoints in the usual places as if there were some sort of disaster. All the normal business of life will be put on hold wherever these goons set up their operations.
The problem is FEMA has volunteer coordinators all over the place. You never really know when they’ll decide where you live happens to be right in the middle of some likely target zone. It seems always long past time when they finally get tired of playing games and let things go back to relative normality. So even though you know there isn’t anything going to happen where you are, don’t be surprised if starting midday tomorrow sometime these folks go crazy on us.
Worst of all, I’ll be surprised if some of this crap doesn’t stay in place for the foreseeable future.
Personal example: In the last few days I’ve switched both my desktop and laptop over to Scientific Linux 6. This is my Doomsday configuration, the one OS I know I can use in just about any situation for whatever I need to do. I also took a spare external hard drive and formatted it to a Linux file system to make sure it’s easy to backup what I regard as essential files and keep them current on both machines.
Then I did all the other niggling tasks I’ve had waiting. I made sure my bicycle was ready for hauling bigger loads than usual, fixed a problem with our Jeep, organized a few things which had been waiting for my attention, etc. I’ll be double checking the grocery cabinet, flashlight batteries, etc. I just don’t trust these crazy people we got in our government.
Clarification: The issue with my intuition is simply a call to end procrastination on whatever preparations anyone might have considered with regard to coming difficulties. All the rest was simply my personal interpretation, by whatever logic dribbles through my brain. The matter of timing is also pure speculation, in the sense of when and what. To the extent I would pretend I am a prophet of God, the message is not applicable to the timing and current events. Rather, my speculation is simply how I process something I’m not sure I understand totally.

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False Flag in Motion?

I’m thinking this is a plausibility scenario. It’s content hardly surprises anyone who’s been watching for this. It still draws on the mythology established decades ago, and continues the false “alternative universe” in which our official narrative exists.

U.S. authorities are scrambling to sort through information that the CIA developed in the past 24 hours indicating that at least three individuals entered the U.S. in August by air with the intent to launch a vehicle-borne attack against Washington, D.C. or New York around the anniversary of 9/11, according to intelligence officials.
Officials say the alleged terror plot was initiated by new al Qaeda chief Ayman al-Zawahiri, Osama bin Laden’s successor.

So, more destruction in DC and NYC. I pity the folks there who aren’t in on this plan.

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