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Carbon trading, eh? How does that work then? Why don't I try and explain it to myself.


Polluting is bad and planting trees is good. For bad read 'negative', and good, 'positive'. To balance the scale a polluter needs to plant trees so that his negative score comes back to a neutral 'zero' value. He won't plant any trees himself of course (not unless the press is there, ha ha). Besides were he to do so who'd need a middleman? And whether we need them or not, God knows we must have middlemen. Sure enough carbon trading is a middleman's wet dream and that's why we're going to get it even if everyone except the middleman has to die in the attempt. Ha, now that I think about it, global warming could happily be described as 'a middle man, his invented product, and the fight to turn us all into buyers and sellers'.

But it is true that polluting is bad and planting trees is good. At least we can all agree on that. Just like we all agreed that Saddam possessing WMD's was bad and that a democratic Iraq would be good. Only some crazy pro-WMD, anti-democracy, tyrant-loving loony would have argued otherwise. And even if we suspected at the time that there was something screwy in amongst the arguments for war, at least it was all for a good cause. And didn't that turn out well! Iraq is now a thriving WMD-free democracy and we only had to kill 5% of the population to do it. And so it is with carbon trading: a few fudged figures, a few billion dollars rorted, but it's all for a good cause and only some crazy environment-hating pollution lover in the pay of Big Oil could possibly speak against it.


Hmm... here's the same argument from a different tack: To say that if global warming was bullshit, some scientist would win fame and fortune by proving it, is worth precisely as much as saying (way back when) that if Saddam didn't have WMD's, some journalist would win a Pulitzer by being the first (and only) guy to say so. So much for that argument. In the run up to the war not a single journalist did the obvious and googled Scott Ritter. Impossibly the world's most famous weapons inspector became a media unperson. And that Pulitzer? Ha ha ha, what's the point of a Pulitzer if you're black-banned from the entire industry? It's not called a 'bloc-media' for nothing. And just like there was a songbook for Iraq's WMD's and everybody had to sing from it, same-same for global warming.

Otherwise never mind the old polluting bad, planting trees good, how about steal from the rich to give to the poor? Did somebody say Robin Hood? How about Double Plus Good! Welcome to carbon trading, wherein finally we all win the lottery. The big fat-cat polluters will have to buy carbon credits and they'll have to come crawling on their knees to the forest owning poor. Who but a crazy pro-rich anti-poor weirdo could be against it? Honestly what's not to like in this idea?


I don't know... how about the fact that it's bullshit? The wealthy of this world would sooner eat their own heads than hand their money over to the poor. Sure enough they won't be doing any such thing. Rather, what they'll be doing is forcing the poor to sign their lives away (at gunpoint if necessary) for some feathers, mirrors, and glass beads. Then they sit and wait. They wait like Alan Greenspan and his proxies waited after they handed out free money to every man jack who couldn't afford a mortgage. Alan and his very good friends didn't care that the loans could never be repaid. They knew how worthless the imaginary money was. They just wanted all the land. Or everyone homeless. Or some combination of the two, now that I think about it. And they got it. Well, not all of it yet but don't worry, they're very patient fellows.

Meanwhile in New Guinea we can see the feathers gag happening in real time (SBS pt 1) (SBS pt 2) (SBS pt 3). And the falsity is beyond obvious. Laws not in place? No idea who the owners are? The ministry in charge of it all so utterly corrupt it was actually disbanded? Doesn't matter! No need to take my word for it, watch that vid and see the pell-mell rush to sign up anybody with a pulse. And the local governor complained to the Australian government about the whole sordid affair did he? Ha ha ha ha ha - Mate, the government of K Rudd is precisely as interested in the crookedness of a land grab in New Guinea as they are in the crookedness of a the land grab in Australia's own Northern Territory. Which is to say, not. Which is to say they're a party to it. K Rudd and the middle men? Best of friends!


Otherwise if you view global warming/cooling as a flat out con suddenly all the inconsistencies and contradictions become no such thing and actually make perfect sense. As our death cult leaders haggle over precisely how little to give to the third world in order to snaffle up what bits of virgin forest remain, the rest of it continues to be cut down at a rate of football fields per hour. If you really want to know where the West's head is at in regard to rainforests etc ask yourself where all that clear-felled Indonesian timber is going. Indonesia? Not bloody likely. It's for us in the fat-cat West. If those disappearing Sumatran forests were truly going to put the PTB's beachside properties under water, we'd spend as much time halting Indonesian freighters carrying timber as we do ships bearing humanitarian supplies bound for Palestine. But we don't do that because the PTB want that timber for the decking of their beachside property (which of course is no more likely to be sunk than the Israelis are to quit being psycho-killers). The cutting down of the rain forests is many things (and all of them fucked) but a global climate changer ain't one of them. Our death cult PTB tells us this themselves.

There will be climate change and no mistake. What's coming is coming. And sure enough, the death cult knows this. Knowledge is power - literally: the words 'know' and 'noble' come from the same root. Our ignoble nobility know what's coming and of course they bend that knowledge to accord with the single thrumming refrain in their head: what's in it for me - it's all about me - me uber alles - if not me, none - me, me, me, ad nauseam. It's all they have and they are nothing if not predictable. And speaking of predictable - Of course they lie and tell us it's for our own good! Of course they stampede us with fear! Always this way! Like these simpleton, one-note, trickster motherfuckers ever pass up a chance? Honestly.


Hey Tricksters! Fuck you! You're bullshit and obvious with it. A tuppence for the lot of you.

Oh, and you can stick your global warming up your arse.

Non-Media Truth

The climate changes. It always has and always will.

Previous climate changes could not possibly have been caused by humans.

Media Truth

The climate is changing! There has never been anything like this before!

Current climate change could not possibly have been caused by anything but humans.

There's a expression to describe an argument of this nature and it is, an insult to my intelligence. And that goes double when the only 'solution' to the 'problem' is a centralised carbon tax regime administered by a New World Order.


Otherwise there's only two aspects to the argument:

The Weather

All discussions on the craziness of the weather are proof of nothing more than the fact that climate changes. Or to put it another way - The climate is as changeable as the weather, ha ha ha. Waitaminute! Am I the first guy to crack that joke? Seriously, sub-editors live to write shit like that. Hmm... interesting how not a single media soul has mentioned the irony of the very thing we use as a definition of changeability is somehow now a thing we imagine should never change. With this in mind (along with the sheer obviousness of it all) any argument for carbon tax that consists of stating how bizarre the weather is, is completely worthless.

Humans

There is only one question that counts: Is this current period of climate change truly different to every other period ie. with natural causes completely absent and humans being promoted to a status that would previously have been the very definition of hubris?

Given that previous climate change has been disappeared as have the natural causes that led to it,

Given that the people who declare that it's-humans-wot-dunnit have been caught flat out lying, have acknowledged that they're lying, and have discussed means of lying more effectively,

Given that these same people have been on the receiving end of staggering sums of money, promotions, Nobel prizes etc,

Given that the only solution on the table consists not of actually curtailing pollution so much as subjecting everyone to yet another contrived and convoluted means-of-exchange,

Given that this must necessarily be administered by the exact same geniuses who think it perfectly right that they receive world record bonuses in the middle of world record economic collapse (that they, sure enough, made),

Given that we're being stampeded into it like it was some kind of "Sponge-O-Matic! Three for the price of one! But only if you call now!" TV crap,

Given that the only reason that the lies-is-all-they-got death cult motherfuckers who rule us wouldn't do this is because they didn't think of it,

Given all these things... I'm going to call it! IT'S BULLSHIT! Of course they would do this! It's not like they've got anything better to do. A Rothschild can't spend every waking moment fucking kids and mind-control zombies, can he?

Frankly, the only reason to believe this latest New World Order shit is that old chestnut outlined by Hitler when he described the Big Lie. Say it with me now,

"There's no way this many people could lie about something this big."

Sure! That's how the Big Lie works! It's not like it's climatology rocket science or anything!

What's a bloke to do? Here I am with a desktop overflowing with unfinished pieces - 'World Death Organisation', 'Satanism and the Self', 'Bonuses for the Most Expensive Fuckwits in History', 'The Daily Global Fear and Desire Index' etc. etc. - and all of them knocked back.


I knocked them back because... who gives a shit? Or to put it another way, we're at the town meeting, called because a thirty metre tsunami is due in an hour, and a voice pipes up asking what the council's going to do about the cracks in the footpath that the tremor caused. And the guy's got a point: the cracks are so bad that you could fall and break your hip. But in the face of the tsunami... who gives a shit?

Actually that's just our little world. Truth is, back in the real world everyone is rolling their eyes, catcalling, and otherwise laughing their heads off. Broken footpaths, the collapsed bus shelter, and what-about-the-insurance, is all they want to talk about - and who is this dickhead blathering about a tsunami? What tsunami? Doesn't he watch the news that guy? Sheesh! If there was a tsunami, they'd tell us. The worst is over - they said so on the news!


Yeah well, we'll leave them to it. We're having a whole other conversation, and there, between 30m waves; and bits and pieces of broken infrastructure, one of them is a topic worth discussing and the other is a mere series of clues pointing to it. Can you dig it?

---

Still, a little nagging voice says that maybe it won't be so. What with the death cult following the Fabian creed of gradualism, perhaps there won't be a tsunami at all - just more run-of-the-mill rollers wearing away, wearing away. Dig it - it's the condemned man keeping his fingers crossed that he won't go before the firing squad and will instead be sentenced to hard sodomy for the term of his natural life. "Oh thank God, it's only daily rape." Whew!

But really, as if the death cult would be so rigidly doctrinaire. If gradualism suits, they'll use it. And if a world war is what's required, then dandy, cue the fire bombing. Or whatever! - they're nothing if not versatile. As if the people who control our education, media, and government are going to leave any bases uncovered or otherwise resile from anything because, well, "That's just going too far..." Besides, there's just too much now and it's there for anyone with an ounce of curiosity to see.


Just to be precise, I figure we're in for an unholy trinity - Economic Collapse: 426 trillion imaginary dollars. Never mind the 'recovery' - is everyone familiar with a 'head and shoulders' curve? Okay, so we're at the shoulder and now comes the long drop, all the way down. Cue the, um... 'Great Recession' is it? Ha ha ha. I guess that's like a Great Depression but with more hype. And more deaths - six million in the US alone last time around. Global Pandemic: A fake virus treated with a vaccine that's no such thing. Will this be the greatest act of mass murder in history? Sure, why not? The CFR/Bilderberger mob has already declared that five billion dead would be just dandy. World War: Iraq, Afghanistan, even the coming smashing of Iran - all sideshows. The big game? Russia v Nato. And are Ladbrokes offering odds on Israel nuking someone? If evens is the best you can get, it'd be worth laying a hundred bucks on.

Any one of these would qualify as an event of unparalleled wickedness. And we're going to get three! Yay - fans of history, rejoice! And sure enough we, who ordinarily prefer history at a bit of a remove, ask the question - What's to be done?

---

Well, we must oppose it! Fight Fight Fight! Well... there will be fighting and no mistake. We'll meet the enemy and he'll be us - the streets will run with blood and the death cult (looking down from their corporate boxes) will roar with laughter. Who said there's East and there's West and never the twain shall meet? He didn't own an Armalite obviously. East/West - North/South - Muslim/Christian - white/coloured - rich/poor - military/civilian - It's time to do the us-and-them cha-cha, and all to a rat-a-tat beat. Buddha was bullshit and his so-called "middle way" nothing more than an excuse for Hegelians to smash two opposites together. Bring on the Revolution! And cue the impossible voice-over guy - "This revolution has been proudly brought to you by International Banking."


If people want to pile in on that, good luck to them. I'm sure the death cult won't have seen them coming. Meanwhile where I live, in this cardboard cut-out town, in a cardboard cut-out state, in a cardboard cut-out country - with Rupert Murdoch in charge of the paper, scissors, and Perkin's paste - ain't nothin' gonna happen. Between the bang and the whimper (with no third option), it'll be "A whimper for me please. And how much is that? Ten trillion dollars? Um... okay, just one then, and not so big thanks." What nice manners we have, even for our rapists.

---

"Hey nobody, what's that in the title, about Les and Pascal having a bet or something?" Oh yes, I do thank that imagined fellow for reminding me. It seems that in setting the mood in the first couple of paras, I've done my usual trick and written a thousand words already. But rather than quit and come back, I'll just plough on.


I have Les pegged as today's Hunter S. All he lacks is an editor to sort out his possessives, contractions, and plurals, ha ha. Sorry Les! (He also lacks Thompson's uncannily accurate descriptions of the paedophocracy, which until Jeff Wells laid them out, I'd always taken as a variety of metaphor. Those stories about Thompson? Well, if Operation Mockingbird and Laurel Canyon got funky together, and the result was a natural child, what would that offspring look like?)

The above is not me dropping any dark hints about Les. I have as good an ear for falsity as anyone, and I've yet to hear Les strike a false note. There are real people in this world and Les is one of them. Or to put it another way - I wouldn't bother discussing Les if I thought he was bullshit, or insubstantial, or any other epithet. I come here not to bury Les, but to praise him (backhanded, of course...)

---

That being said, let's carry on - the point of the exercise here is merely a continuation of me turning Les' discussions of the coming tsunami in deus ex machina terms around in my head and wondering at them from different angles. And that's when Renaissance man, Blaise Pascal, stuck his tuppence in. Primarily Pascal was a mathematician who, amongst other things, built one of the world's first calculating machines, invented the science of hydraulics (and the syringe specifically), and was otherwise the founder of the modern theory of probability.


As if that wasn't enough, he was also a religious philosopher who spent the whole latter half of his life cloistered in the Jansenist convent of Port Royal. Cloistered or no, he never forgot the libertine friends he'd made during his 'worldly period', and with them in mind (and as you might expect from a mathematical expert in probabilities) Pascal sought to appeal to their scepticism by way of a simple bet with what's now known as Pascal's Wager. Here's Encyclopaedia Brittanica -

Pascal assumed, in disagreement with Thomas Aquinas but in agreement with much modern thinking, that divine existence can neither be proved nor disproved; and he reasoned that if one decides to believe in God and to act on this basis, one gains eternal life if right but loses little if wrong, whereas if one decides not to believe, one gains little if right but may lose eternal life if wrong. In these circumstances, he concluded, the rational course is to believe.

It's hard to believe I know, but I'm not the only fellow who turns things around and comes at them from different angles. Brittanica again -

The argument has been criticized theologically for presupposing an unacceptable image of God as rewarding such calculating worship and also on the philosophical ground that it is too permissive in that it could justify belief in the claims, however fantastic, of any person or group who threatened nonbelievers with damnation or other dangerous consequences.

Good point. But you've got to love this - "...it could justify belief in the claims, however fantastic, of any person or group who threatened nonbelievers with damnation or other dangerous consequences." Ha ha ha, that sounds like every religion ever invented doesn't it? It certainly sounds like the Christian church.


Unsurprisingly, with Pascal effectively an adherent of a Jewish sect (er... that would be Christianity), the whole discussion is one of what's-in-it-for-me, driven by the twin carrot-and-stick prospects of the fear of damnation versus the promise of a glorious eternity. And me, I have to ask the question: What sort of insecure God is this?

If a fellow was an incarnation of Francis of Assisi (say), leading a life of perfect virtue devoted to the well-being of all living things, would Pascal's God get angry with him if he didn't know who He was? Absolutely! The Christian God (besides being a slavish adherent to the old bullshit maxim of 'ignorance of the law is no excuse') is a jealous one who visits the iniquity of the father upon his children to the fourth generation merely for failing to acknowledge him. Jesus Christ! As if a God who's every kind of 'omni' wouldn't be above such petty concerns? Where's the serenity?


Bugger it. Why don't we turn Pascal's wager on its head - and plug it into Les' deus ex machina while we're at it? And so: given that Les' manifestations of supernature are not insecure and do not demand we tip our hat every time we sneeze; given that a shit-storm tsunami to end all shit-storm tsunamis is definitely coming, and if anything was ever going to warrant a deus ex machina response, this is it; given the rightness of Epictetus' discussions of 'what is in our power' (thanx Kikx), with stopping a tsunami not being one of them; and not forgetting yours truly being a Buddhist of his own description, attempting to embody the right end of the continuum (at the top of the page), we arrive at the following 'thus' -

Supernature or no, if one sheds fear and desire, and acts with reverence for all things as if they were possessed of supernature, if right, one gains all that might be hoped for, but loses little if wrong, whereas if one embraces fear and desire, and effectively reveres the self, if right, one gains little beyond the ephemeral, but if wrong... "Hey, the ocean's just gone out. Let's go down and look."

Not that she gives a shit, but I've been a devotee of the goddess of idleness, Aergia, for many years now. Was there ever a goddess more demanding? Kali perhaps, ha ha ha. Aergia of course is the un-Kali. The only death Aergia ever demanded was that of one's sense of duty (to any but herself, that is). The inscription over the door of her temple reads 'Abandon all ambition, Ye who enter here.' Not that that ever deterred those whose heads echoed with her siren song. Here lay a refuge from that world of care, stress, and anxiety.

Genocidal man-made pandemics? Contrived global economic collapse? World War and a fascistic one-world government? Ha! Nothing more than shifting transient patterns in the golden brown smoke of the temple incense. I lie back and with red-rimmed eyes observe the hypnotic sinuous shapes as they lead me down assorted trails, and all of them to somewhere balmy and untroubled.


Geez, is that enough of that? "Stop the metaphor, I want to get off!" Okay, I admit it - I'm actually talking about marijuana. God, the marvellous times I've had smoking grass and the brilliant people I've met - I wouldn't swap it for anything. But. For every reason I might offer as to why dope is good, the obvious falsity of the argument becomes ever clearer the longer one persists: all drugs obey the law of diminishing returns.

Biochemical inevitabilities are one thing and Les Visible is another, ha ha. I have no idea what percentage of the people who visit here read Les as well. There was a time when my entire readership (all ten of 'em, ha ha) was actually Les', lured sideways from his temporal blog, Smoking Mirrors (where I spent all my time hanging out). For those who don't read him, you should - he's a hell of a writer. However, somewhere along the line I found myself being more and more taken with his spiritual blog, Visible Origami. I don't know if this is a personal irony but it's at the origami blog that Les holds up a mirror in which my hypocrisies are cast in stark relief.


In the origami mirror I see a fellow extolling the virtues of selflessness in one breath, and... dragging on a scoob with the next, ha ha. Cue the descent into self-indulgence! Never mind me cleverly dispensing with everything in the Reckitt-Benckiser/Colgate-Palmolive aisle of the supermarket: for every dollar I didn't spend there, I'd spend two in the Cadbury's chocolate and Arnott's biscuit aisle. Pathetic.

I'll concede that that's not so very dreadful really - penny-ante stuff - but that's not the point. Les' words of advice over at Origami are not those of an allopathic doctor discussing a minor symptom in isolation. Les' ain't that guy. His view is holistic and addresses what ails us in the widest terms imaginable. And I'm so there!

Ha ha ha ha... fucking hypocrite! I'm not there at all, nor anywhere close.

Truth is, I'm a fucking mess - cigarettes, coffee, and grass rule my life. Without I shed these, I'm going nowhere. Whatever I want to achieve, or to become, all is subordinated to the fact that I have to have a cigarette every forty minutes or so. Subsequently, there's nothing for it but to bid them farewell and the one which must go first is also the easiest - marijuana. And what with Aergia being such a sexy goddess I thought the least she deserved was a big send-off. Frankly a quarter of an ounce of the sacrificial incense would have sufficed but as it turned out I ended up with an entire ounce of organic North Coast hippy buds. Ayah! I've encountered a few heroic dope smokers in my time and after this brook-no-resistance effort, I declare myself one of them, ha ha. (BTW - Did anyone suss me out? The six pieces preceding the last one were all written stoned. It was obvious if you think about it).

Me and the goddess aside, here we are, each of us on our own journey. And we know full well that this trip ain't going to be any kind of business-class as usual - no comfy seats, no free glass of champagne, no forty kilos of luggage. Never mind economy, in case you missed it, we never got on the plane! We remain the ant-like nobodies ten clicks below, doing the whole thing on foot. And down here, it's travel light or forget about it.


And me? I haven't even started, ha ha. Hell, I'm still ditching suitcases! God knows how many I've tossed so far. But I'm getting somewhere and I've only a few left to go. And then, whatever's coming, I'll be as prepared as I can be.

Not forgetting of course that this runs in both directions. There's us and where we wish to go, and there's the death cult with their own fucked up thoughts on the matter. In terms of the relationship between these two things, Les gets it, and the people in his comment section rudely demanding some kind of battle plan, don't. Anyone expecting some variety of Iwo Jima flag-raising over a pile of Savile Row clad corpses is going to be disappointed. Not forgetting the falsity of the original event anyway...


Hold that image of victory in your head if you want to, but you'll merely be that monkey who won't let go of the banana in the trap. T'ain't nothin' can be done for that monkey without he lets go. Okay, so time to let go.

Seeya Aergia, it was fun while it lasted mate.

Man: I don't know - Mr Wentworth just told me to come in here and say that there was trouble at the mill, that's all - I didn't expect a kind of global despotism.

(JARRING CHORD - The door flies open and Cardinal Ximinez-Rothschild of the City of London enters, flanked by two junior cardinals, Cardinal Biggles and Cardinal Fang.)

Ximinez-Rothschild: NOBODY expects a global despotism! Our chief weapon is monetary policy...monetary policy and the bloc-media...the bloc-media and monetary policy.... Our two weapons are the bloc-media and monetary policy...and corruption via satanism and paedophilia.... Our *three* weapons are the bloc-media, monetary policy, and corruption via satanism and paedophilia...and a centuries spanning gradualism.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as the bloc-media, monetary policy.... I'll come in again. (Exit and exeunt)


Does that make metaphoric sense? Well it does if you're standing on a balcony having a cig and trying to put together a sensible picture of what we're up against in terms of the death cult. Reducing a thing to senselessness ought not to be dismissed out of hand. Honestly, if a thing is senseless to begin with why not treat it that way?

For mine the essence of Python's senselessness was captured in one obscure sketch called 'Climbing the North face of Uxbridge Road' in which mountaineers with pitons, carabiners, and ropes laboriously traversed the footpath next to Uxbridge Road. For some reason this is mad, and yet doing the same thing on the side of a mountain isn't. Perhaps that was the beauty of Python - to make obvious the absurdity of all those things that we're otherwise required to discuss as if they were sensible.

No wonder there's nothing like Monty Python anymore. Now all comedy seems to be Jewish farce. Jewish farce has no point to make apart from the fact that everything can be reduced to smut. We're all Beavis and Butthead now. To hell with actually listening to anything anyone says or what it might mean. Instead we sit there blankly, our mental antennae attuned and waiting for the arrival of a smutty word - 'He said 'Bartok', heh heh heh heh....'


Interestingly, Python is actually undergoing a resurgence at the moment at the hands of Eric Idle (the least and shallowest of all the Pythons) who has reduced The Holy Grail to that most vacuous of art forms, the Broadway musical. Thus Idle becomes feted and wealthy, and the intellectual and philosophical heart of Python, Terry Jones, remains the most obscure of all his fellows. Sure, of course.

Otherwise Monty Python (with Spike Milligan's Goons as my intro) made me the fellow I am today. It taught me that arcane and otherwise intimidating topics could belong to anyone and that one might view them however one wished. There was no topic that couldn't be stripped down, turned inside out, and if necessary smashed over the head with a stout bit of reductio ad absurdum. Or to put it another way, they were the mortal enemies of 'this-is-how-you-must-think'.


When I was at university my best friend joined the army. To cheer him up whilst he was in the nightmarish world of basic training I sent him a letter (remember them?). What with both of us being silly Python fans, on the back of the envelope I put down the sender as 'Nelson Riddle and his Orchestra'. He quickly wrote back asking that I not do that again as the mail was always handed out by a corporal who never missed a trick in saying something shitty about the sender. This in an effort to humiliate and demean the recruits you understand. Have we all seen Full Metal Jacket? Okay, like that. Sure enough 'Nelson Riddle' qualified as a perfect red flag, "Does he blow your horn does he? Do you blow his? Are you a couple of fags?". Happily my friend succeeded where I would have failed and gave the right answer - "No, corporal".

Perhaps that's the military in a nutshell - Python bad, Beavis and Butthead good. God forbid anyone in the military should know the meaning of reductio ad absurdum. How would we ever get a war on if people could think for themselves and come to the conclusion that it was bullshit at its heart? Hmm... thinking about it, the military is essentially a soft form of trauma based mind-control à la Brice Taylor (Susan Ford). Those who've been through military training might want to scoff but only because they haven't read Ford's book. Compared to what she went through, military training is like Club Med.

But the principles remain the same. We are not to think: we are to blink and do. The only variations to the theme are in the intensity. From MKUltra to the military and from there to the civvy world, it all comes under the heading of mind control with the dial merely being turned from hard, to medium, to soft.


Speaking of going off to war, may I take a moment to plant a boot up the date of the Briton of the Century, Winston Churchill? Said Winston, "In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies." The sideways logic here is that it would be poor of a fellow to view them as inveterate liars just because they lie all the time about every goddamn thing. Says they, 'We possess the truth and we only lie out of the necessity of protecting this truth, do you see?'

Ha ha ha, you have to admit it's bloody clever isn't it? But the truth is that the noble war that necessitated these lies was bullshit from the get-go. In 1938, Churchill was in debt up to his eyeballs and was only saved from having to sell the family estate Chartwell by a Jewish South African gold mining millionaire, Sir Henry Skrakosch. What's Yiddish for 'quid pro quo'? And Germany's arch crime at the time of Judea's declaration of war against them in 1933 was to have wrested control of German monetary policy from the hands of the Rothschilds et al. And the yiddish for 'cui bono'?

Churchill's 'finest hour' was bullshit, just like every other bullshit war. The ends justified the means, but only for a tiny handful of liars - weren't nothing in it for the rest of us. Let's tweak another quote: "Never in the field of human conflict was so much paid by so many to so few". Sure.

Since then little has changed. The wars are smaller but there's more of them and they pretty much approach 'all the time, forever' in their frequency. With never a pause the new world order's noble truth, flanked by its bodyguard of lies, marches on. That 'truth' (world peace is it?) is every bit as false an end as the means used to arrive at it. As if anything good can come from enslavement by fake money, corruption by satanistic paedophilia, and an unrelenting deluge of media black lies? Honestly. The new world order will be exactly as fucked as the old world order with the only difference being the size of the pyramid underneath those who view themselves as the worthy pointy bit at the top. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.


Under that timeless rubric, I don't know that it matters who the boss is exactly. Up until now I've been flailing about in some mad variety of death cult whodunnit. Ha! Dig it - it's Poirot trying to figure out who stabbed the victim on the Orient Express. Gosh, there seems to be evidence pointing at everyone! Sure enough, the saucy Belgian figured out that it was everyone. Hmm... if you think about it, Murder On The Orient Express is a brilliant metaphor for how the death cult works. Its only point of departure from the real world is that the authorities who went on to arrest the assorted culprits on the train would have been in on the act as well.

Back to Python now, I have a sketch in mind. Or is it too unfunny? Perhaps I should do it as one of those 'flash mob' art event thingies? Anyway, imagine a bunch of people, dozens strong, all in suits robbing a bank (perhaps wearing bowler hats, just to add a python-esque touch). Or are they bank robbers? Perhaps they're the bankers themselves? For us as mug punters cowering in fear it's hard to tell the difference. Either way, each of these suits holds a pair of shotguns, one wired to the throat of a confrere and the other waved about at us. Of course each has a shotgun wired to their own throat. They scream demands, variously fearful and angry, "Hand over your money or everyone dies! We don't want to do this but we have no choice! But if everyone does as we say, we'll all be fine!"

Where's our clever Belgian? "I say Poirot, any idea who the culprit is?"

Mind you, I'm not too sure about the aforementioned fear and anger. Maybe it would exist at first, as each participant finds a shotgun at their head, but eventually they'd each become just another exhausted thousand-yard-stare killer like everyone else in the perverse shotgun-wired rat's nest: the whole tangled mass relentlessly moving forward to wherever the fuck it is they're going, and none of them even sure why anymore.


And now for that timeless chestnut - what's to be done? As Aangirfan so sensibly pointed out, really it's always been this way. And who can argue? It's not as if the fear-driven, anti-buddha death cult ruling us are imaginative or original. It's all been done before. Hell we all did it ourselves when we were two, and our sense of ourselves expanded to gargantuan proportions, but happily we grew out of it. Along those lines of all-been-done-before, why don't we view the death cult as dinosaurs? They might have made sense when the means to cast off the old predator-and-prey model didn't exist, but that was then and this is now: with modern mass communications such as they are, and the world an interconnected global village, a new paradigm based on compassion and common sense (ie. selflessness rather than selfishness) is actually possible. Don't scoff - if the insane effort that has gone into enslaving us in this global despotism had instead been spent urging us towards the other end of the continuum (at the top of the page), we'd be there already.

But forget all that, it doesn't make any difference since it's always been this way. And the future may be better or it may be worse, but it doesn't make any difference since it's always been this way. This is the Buddha's 'here and now'. The immutable truth of here and now is that the only option for each of us is (and always has been), to embody the world we wish to live in. There's no point waiting - waiting for some event, or cause, or charismatic saviour. I'm not saying that this thing or person isn't coming, just that it shouldn't-doesn't-won't make any difference. Not if you're being that embodiment, that is. Subsequently, there's no point being fearful, angry, or dismayed (nor in losing one's sense of humour, ha ha) because who wants to live in that world? Not me.

Meanwhile the world is the world and we observe and try to make sense of it. Perhaps we'll never be giants like Darwin or the Buddha, each with their own unified field theory of human behaviour. But that's okay, we merely declare ourselves 'midget' giants. And as such, we reach for the stars, as the giants do, but find our fingers are no closer than anyone else's, were they to try. Never mind, at least we tried and at least we get the gag. Unlike that thick-as-pigshit death cult. They don't get any gag apart from from those that involve a Beavis and Butthead variety of idiot sniggering. Regardless, we whose hearts are true (well, as true as we can make 'em), and whose quills are sharp (licked with the tongue in our cheek), will carry on helpfully pointing out the senselessness of whatever the fuck it is they're on about.

Dear Chas,

It seems my travails with the servants continue. They're such a pain in the arse! Do you recall one of the scullery maids taking exception to her daughter entertaining us at our soirees? I had Bates put the fear of god into her of course, with his men following her about etc. but somehow she gave him the slip! With her daughter! It was that little pixie-eyed brunette that you liked.

Anyway, they ended up in Shelmerston telling the usual dark tales of satan worship etc. Happily Reeves, who heads the police there, got back to me as soon as he heard and I had Bates nip in quick and throw her down a flight of stairs. The daughter is in the dungeon now (how pleasant it is to have one) and is much more agreeable what with her mother having so clearly conveyed to her what happens to troublemakers, albeit by being a corpse, ha ha. At least she was good for something.

Anyway it now seems that one of Bates' men has run off with a photo of the dead woman and idiotically imagines there's money in it. We'll disabuse him of that notion soon enough, but what's wrong with these fucking people? It's endless. Bloody servants! You can't live with them and you can't have them all killed en masse. Not unless you have some perverse desire to do your own laundry! There's a curious thought. I don't even know where my laundry is. Nor how it's done. Given that that's the case perhaps I'll let the laundry-woman live. Quality of mercy and all that, ha ha. Ain't I grand?

Drollery aside, if only these jumped up scum could be taught their place once and for all. I know the Fabians have things all planned out with their socialism etc. but where's the abject fear!? Otherwise, Grosvenor of the Royal Society talks of progress with his new-fangled electrical apparatus but the woman he showed me just seemed to be a listless automaton, of no use in bed, nor the laundry, nor anywhere else. One remains hopeful but in the meantime one's forced to run around keeping people in their place. Like I said, tiresome in the extreme! I really do have better things to do with my time.

Speaking of which, you'll be coming up for our soiree Friday week? I absolutely promise you that little prixie brunette will be there - and freshly terrified with it, ha ha!

yours aye,

Monty

---

If you scroll down slightly you'll notice another new piece below this one, and below that another. What started as a desultory three-piece effort ended up spiralling out of control and I cut it into three. Whether the three were ever truly connected is debatable and probably best approached with the thought 'Well, he is mad'. Yoroshiku.

To be honest, one wonders why they persist with these rubbery simulacra. Having read of what was done to Susan Ford in Thanks For The Memories, clearly the aristocratic filth that rule us arrived at an infinitely better solution to the problem of troublesome servants. Besides, the aristocracy are people of taste and refinement - they would no more stick their dick in an artificial orifice than they would eat the GM shit at McDonalds. Perhaps we should just view the RealDoll as yet another straw on the know-thyself camels' back - another thing in a long unbroken line of stuff designed to destroy our bonds with each other, and otherwise have us understand the rightness of worshipping the self.


In wondering what the death cult aristocracy is on about, it doesn't pay to think small. There's no point tempering your thoughts with petty niggles or scruples. The death cult never does. The truth is we as little people have no idea of what is and isn't feasible when the world is yours to command. Thus we may as well just gun for the worst case scenario. Remember, for the death cult, 'worst case scenario' = 'an ideal world'.

In this best of all possible worlds, ideally we will all be variations of Susan Ford. And there I was, having just finished Ford's book, chatting on the phone to a friend of mine who was telling me of her six-year-old autistic son's progress in school. I know this kid as well as I know any. Or to put it another way, I don't know him at all since I've never had a conversation with him. That's autism for you. If you ask him a question he just repeats it, or ignores you utterly. Otherwise even the merest hint of attempting to modify his behaviour will result in him smashing his head against the wall. Literally. Everything you know about kids goes out the window with autism. Otherwise, left to himself he's a sweet kid, albeit an unknowable one.

Astoundingly, his mother tells me that he is doing brilliantly in his first year of school. Forget the remedial 'special' class I assumed would be his lot - in English and maths he's leaving all the other kids behind. And yet frustratingly, when she asks him, 'How was school?' he just repeats the question. On matters of feelings, or of himself, or even of others, he is unable to formulate an opinion. 'How are you?, makes no sense to him.

Um, okay - anyone else out there with a lightbulb going off in their head? Isn't this kid almost precisely what the death cult is looking for?


Is everyone across the link between autism and government mandated mercury-based thimerosal vaccines? I'll take it as read. Now think of McGowan's Laurel Canyon and his detailing of the death cult's mass release of LSD in the hippy movement. Think of the 'spike' nature of LSD (ie. if we plotted a graph of LSD use over time), and compare that to the 'spike' nature of autism - zero to a hundred in a few short years. Certainly LSD was freely handed out and freely taken, and thimerosal-laced vaccines were government mandated, but in the whatever-suits nature of the campaign this is neither here nor there.

Here then is the thought - what if autism by way of mass thimerosal poisoning wasn't so much a penny pinching exercise by big pharma as much as it was another yellow brick in the road to mind control? Let's not be put off by the fact that it didn't succeed. LSD didn't succeed either. As far as I can see, autism as dry-run experiment towards the goal of a world of slaves makes as much sense (hell, probably more) than any other bullshit reason.

The only thing we know for sure is that bullshit lies are a certainty, and the lies are always layered. Think of the Gulf War: (loudly) Iraq has WMD's; (not so loudly) we thought Iraq had WMD's; (quietly) it's all about the oil; (sotto voce) it's all about Israel; (and completely unspoken) the truth - Iraq was just a single step in the global goal of smashing Islam's alternative to usury.

And in the discussion of why there are so many autistic kids now, I'm thinking we're somewhere between 'It was a mistake', and 'It was greed'. The first of these is laughable - there's no way kids were injected with mercury by accident. The second is just too penny-ante. Given the monstrousness of what was done, it's absurd to think that the nickels and dimes saved by using mercury preservative were worth it. Metaphor time - if we had mosquitoes breeding in the well, would we believe the explanation of the fellow who tipped ten litres of arsenic in there - that he did this because the arsenic was five dollars cheaper than the citronella? Not forgetting that he's a pharmacologist and the richest guy in town. Would we believe that?

Am I the only guy to whom this thought has occurred? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, given that I'm the merest dilettente, there's no way I'm going to make any splash, or otherwise bust it up the middle with this. Certainly not with the health expert heavies who've clocked up endless hours detailing the links between thimerosal and autism.


But then again, there's a lot to be said for dilettenteism. In this world of the Big Lie, focusing tight on a subject means you have no true idea of how big the Big Lie is. With a narrow viewfinder, the weeny tentacled protozoa appears monstrous - the Goober that ate New York City. Scale will do that to you. Step back and we'll see that that impossibly big Big Lie isn't imposssible at all. They do it all the time - business as usual.

So! Here I am asserting that the autism epidemic is, in all probability, the result of a deliberate act of mass poisoning. But as epic as that crime is, I'll also assert that for the death cult it's the merest bagatelle, barely a blink of their god-like eye. With the death cult it pays to throw out all sense of human scale. God knows they did.

Today's Question -
The difference between swine flu and regular flu is... ?
(answer below)



Yep, I have 'flu-like symptoms'. Whilst I haven't been to the doctor (and nor shall I bother), I'm just going to take it as read that I have the dread lurgy swine flu. Dread lurgy or no, it seems the only sensible response is to wig out and go completely batshit. Mind you, that's not to say that I can't wail, gnash my teeth, run melancholy mad, and type at the same time. With my brain as Pandora's box, it seems the only thing left is the autonomic qwerty function.

I expect you're probably sitting there thinking, 'Wah! Nobody you are really great!'. Well, yes I am, and modest with it, but you might want to think again. Because if you've read this far, and you're not wearing a mask, you're infected too. Sucked in! You didn't know that you can catch swine flu merely by reading an infected blog did you? Well you can. What with running melancholy mad, I figure if I'm going to die screaming (and typing), I may as well take you all with me. Don't argue, the Jim Jones logic is iron clad. Anyway, you've only a few hours left and as soon as you've finished here you should rush out and get that CD of Larry King reading the old testament.

You, me, Larry King, we're all fucked. It's a pandemic! BTW - the word pandemic is a combination of 'dem' which means 'people' and 'panic' which means 'panic'. Therefore, everyone must go bonzo zonko. I certainly am. Right this minute, I am at the public library nude from the waist down with a bowl of blancmange clapped on my head singing the Yah Di Bucketty song. As I type, sure enough. In between times I periodically yell, 'Back off man! I've got swine flu and I'm not afraid to cough!"

Seriously though, swine flu (otherwise known by its kosher name of H1N1) is so singular and horrific that everything we ever knew about flu, or illness, or anything at all, must now be thrown out the window. If swine flu makes no sense, then clearly it's your common sense that's coming up short.

There is only one way to view swine flu and that is with your brain locked in a paroxysm of fear. Which goes some way in explaining how otherwise sensible people like Lee Lin Chin on Australia's SBS news thought it right to declare that the swine flu toll in Australia now stands at 1400 or so. Um, Lee Lin, as much as I admire that Hong Kong private school clipped enunciation of yours, your English actually leaves a lot to be desired. This on account of the fact that 'toll' means 'number of dead people'. As you and I both know, the actual 'toll' of swine flu in Australia is 'zero'. Or to express it as a percentage, that would be, um... zero.



Apparently, the concept of zero was a very late arrival in the field of mathematics. Funnily enough, I just recently saw a documentary by Terry Jones (my second favourite Monty Python member) that charted the whole history of zero. But it seems that Jones failed to consider another theory as to why it took so long for humans to get their heads around the concept. What if the very thought of zero filled the human mind with terror and gave people a variety of brain freeze? That would certainly explain why every single person on the telly here, keen to tell us how big a deal swine flu is, baulks at mentioning that not one single person has died from it.

Okay, okay, people have died from swine flu. What's the toll in the US now? Mysteriously it's no longer being mentioned in the news. Somehow I suspect that it's not as high as the 30,000 or so who die in every other regular flu season. Would I be right in thinking that the US toll isn't so much in the tens of thousands, or thousands, or hundreds, but actually in the tens? The low tens? Funnily enough this would qualify swine flu as a something very special - the least fatal flu ever.

Oh, wait, that spot would have to belong to bird flu. Anyone remember that? It was going to kill us all. It was such a big deal that when I went to Shanghai for a job at the height of the bird flu scare, everyone thought I was crazy - even the Chinese, ha ha. I remember sitting in a Hainan-Chicken restaurant with a dozen guys all keen to know if I wasn't scared of catching bird flu. I merely asked them if they knew anyone with bird flu, or even if they knew anyone who knew anyone with bird flu. Ha, a table full of Chinese boys scratching their heads. Perhaps bird flu is bullshit, boys. You ever think of that?



And then there was the head of Vietnam's bird-flu programme who declared that the bird flu 'cure', Tamiflu, was precisely as efficacious as a placebo and, to all intents and purposes, completely worthless. Bloody foreigners! What would they know? Best we pay them no attention. I wonder if Donald Rumsfeld, a major shareholder in Gilead, the makers of Tamiflu, got on the phone and had that tiresome gook killed? Says our Donald - "We'll teach him to forget who won the war!"

Never mind those worthless foreign jibber-jabberers, how about that virologist at the Australian National University? He declared the swine flu virus was man-made, the product of a lab. That story made the Melbourne Age and then sank without a trace. Quite right too. Bloody experts! What would they know? As for his theorising that the virus must have escaped from the lab accidentally, um... yeah, it's not a complete impossibility I suppose. But between that and the virus being deliberately released by murderous motherfuckers, it's pretty long odds. Hey Prof! Stick to the viruses mate. Leave the theorising about murderousness, or lack thereof, to people who don't have their heads glued to a microscope.

Like Aangirfan! Sure enough, everyone's favourite school girl collective had this thing pegged as a psy-op on day one. And given the inverse ratio of hype to actuality you'd have to say the Caledonian convent crew are right. But a psy-op to what end? As yet another episode in the perpetual instillment of fear, it's looking like something of a washout. With the zero death rate here, Australians (or those who don't have an autocue in front of them) aren't taking much of it seriously. The TV news briefly carried a story of people having 'swine flu parties', à la kids and measles. Sure enough some party-pooper health official drone declared that this was a bad idea. Good luck with that, mate! Between you and zero, only one of them isn't bullshit.

But wondering at the psy-op, it seems the question is - have the death cult PTB got it wrong? Were they hoping that more would die? Right this minute, are the creators of this virus being scolded? "You told us that this would have a 25% mortality rate! What do we pay you for? We'd be better off with monkeys!" Or perhaps the psychological warfare mob are copping it? "You told us that there would be mass panic! What do we pay you for, etc. etc."

Or perhaps this dip in public credibility is intended - so that when the predicted (which is to say 'prepared') mutation arrives and the bodies start piling up, the effect will be even stronger? "See, we warned you about this and you didn't take us seriously and you were off having your silly parties while we were busy building internment camps and now you've only yourselves to blame if you're behind barbed wire."

But who knows how all this will go? Not me. All I know is that I have the flu. Okay, so let's times me by 1400 and we've got a bigger number. Now times it by zero. Hmm... 1400 x 0 = 0. Put this with zero WMD's, and with zero al qaeda, and perhaps we can make a rule? Nobody's media rule - Media hype is in inverse proportion to reality. Which is to say, the bigger the story and the more people there are intent on telling us that we must be scared, the greater the likelihood, and degree, of bullshit. Ha! Never mind the bowl of blancmange, I'm a bloody genius!



Answer to today's question - Beats me!