sexiest woman room

Mumbai is ablaze. This attack is huge. My guess is that over a hundred people are involved. All of the people in on this plot ran on a well laid out schedule. Whatever the fuck is going on has been well organised. And whatever it was the organisers intended to achieve, they've achieved it.


Sure enough, it's Muslims. Or so the media tells me. Apparently the terrorists are unhappy with the treatment of Muslims in India. Their plan, as best I can tell, is to kill Indians and foreigners indiscriminately, set fire to major pubic buildings, and take hostages and refuse to release them until Muslims are treated better. Good thinking. Am I alone in wondering at this disconnect?

Between me and the media, it sure looks like it. But it's early days yet. Me, I confidently look forward to the members of the media stating the obvious and saying, 'This doesn't make any sense at all. Who in their right mind would expect that a huge Muslim murder spree would improve the lot of Muslims? How will this achieve anything but having Hindus and Muslims at each other's throats? How would this be in the interest of Muslims?'

Just joking - those questions will never be asked. But if they were I imagine the answer would be that these people are not in their right mind. They're nuts. Nuts who can pull off a coordinated 100 man attack. When it comes to the 'how' they're rational, but on the subject of 'why', they are insane. Um, okay.

Sorry, but between the two prospects of madmen seeking one thing and achieving the obvious and inevitable opposite, and perfectly rational people seeking discord by way of lies and dupes, and succeeding admirably, I'm going to put my money on the latter.

The difference between me and the media is that I have a smattering of history. I know that in 1954 Israeli agents pretending to be Muslims blew up American targets in Cairo in the hopes of prompting the US to attack Egypt. They didn't succeed because the bombers were caught and spilled all the beans. I know that they did it again in 1967 when they attempted to sink the USS Liberty with the loss of all hands and blame it on the Egyptians. The nuke-laden skyhawks were already on their way to Cairo before LBJ and McNamara realised that the Israelis had failed to sink the most lightly armed boat in the US navy and called them back. Oops.

Clearly the Israelis decided that their previous lies had been too modest and on the 11th of September 2001, they attacked multiple US targets and killed 3000. Finally success! Christians and Muslims, at each other's throats. High fives all round. Confirmation indeed that they were precisely as great as they thought they were.

The media obviously doesn't do history. Not unless it's Nazis, that is. Anyway, who in the media has time for history? They can barely keep up with the script on the autocue, never mind all that boring history stuff about who bombed who whilst pretending to be Muslims. As they say in the media - Don't think, just read the script! And are the words, 'false-flag', 'Israeli agents', or 'overpaid media whores' in the script? Of course not.

Nor should one ask who writes the script. Whoever they are, they're very clever. Without them how would we know that Muslims are irrational murderous motherfuckers who will kill us in spite of the fact that it will advance their interests in no way, shape, or form.

Bullshit.

When the stock markets crash and the banks fail everything stops working. Factories fall idle, people become unemployed, and families struggle and fail with the three prime necessities of food, shelter, and health. Everyone's behaviour is suddenly transformed into a chaotic, counter-productive, mad scrabble. And all because a tiny percent of humanity conduct an organised arrangement pivoting on numbers and relationships. This being banking and the stockmarket, you understand.

Funnily enough, shortages or collapses of real world products or services (ie. tangible things that actually exist) we seem capable of coping with. With the current collapse in this system of assigning numbers to various people, it is clear that intangibles have got tangibles beat. Money is more important than, I don't know - water. Which is to say an intangible arrangement of thinking controls humans above and beyond pretty much anything. Even other arrangements of thinking, like religion say, cannot compete. This contrived system of numbers being attached to humans rules over all.

A power who possesses oil, or water, or a military power, or a power possessed of tremendous natural defences, or any power at all, must succumb to this ultimate power. That sounds god-like doesn't it? Imagine wielding that power. And wielded it will be. Power of this nature will always be striven for. Ambition exists and amongst those who are ambitious will be those who are ultimately ambitious. Everyone here understands perfectly the ceaseless, unrelenting nature of those who would control the money supply. Andrew Jackson described today's world very eloquently just a few short column inches earlier, which is to say a century and a half ago. But that's time for you - hundreds of years of same-as-it-ever-was.

Back to this god-like thing - if a bum like me gets it, imagine being them. I view it as a complete certainty that they have spent a not inconsiderable amount of time dwelling on it. What god would this controller-of-money imagine himself as? We need a metaphor that involves a god that distributes something amongst his worshippers and thereby controls them. How about Prometheus? He wasn't a god so much as a titan but never mind. He gave man fire. Certainly this was a curse and a blessing. That aside, I don't recall any part of that story that involved wealth, treasure and flesh flowing back to Prometheus. Nor the bit where he controlled the flow of fire to alternatively enrich and starve his minion humans. Okay, so much for that metaphor.

Perhaps this metaphor will never fly because all the gods of myth who distributed things amongst their subjects did so as an act of generosity. And besides, these born-of-women men-who-would-be-gods would have nothing but disdain for these false idols invented by fools. They would view themselves as above and beyond such silly stories. Either way, it's an interesting question. How do these people view themselves?

Caesar had a fellow at his shoulder whose job it was to whisper in his ear, 'Remember you are mortal.' Obviously the Romans spent time thinking about what it meant to possess such power. Well you would wouldn't you? It stands to reason. And I expect that the people who control whether humans live in chaos or harmony do too. Do they employ a fellow to stand behind them and whisper to them that they're human? Somehow I doubt it.

On a daydream now - 'If you could have any superpower what would it be?' Me, I would be that man who whispers in their ear, but unlike the Roman, I couldn't be dismissed. I would be some variety of untouchable apparition. I would dog them and never shut up. I would simply be present and see what they see, hear what they hear, and read what they read. They would have no secrets.

There would be no violence in this superhero mag. My power would merely consist of being beyond harm and confinement. Actually someone beat me to this idea already. He was an obscure fellow name of Bill Shakespeare. Some of you may have heard of him. Anyway his superhero was called Banquo's Ghost™ and he featured in a particularly bloody comic called Macbeth.


Imagine that power. There's our villain, the man who would be God, giving a great banquet and revelling in those who've come to pay homage to him. And there's me as Banquo's Ghost chattering in his ear. "Fraud. Imposter. Self-impressed bullshit artist. If you were truly great you would do good. Good for mankind. You could raise human consciousness, lead people to new heights of peace, love and understanding. Don't smirk you fuckwit. This vaunted power you possess is nothing. You're little more than a sneak-thief. No wonder you lurk in the shadows and nobody knows who you are. If they did they'd spit on you, tear you limb from limb, and piss on your grave. And that is the truth of you. You're merely a sneak writ large. You're a shit who thinks he's clever."

I would be nothing more than the man who'd ruin a fellow's dinner. That dinner and every other one. And that would be enough. As superhero movies go, it would be crummy one, sure. 'Too talky' say the critics. But bugger them and their thirst for violence. In the real world, with real people, the smashing of delusions would suffice. The sin of the villains of this world is that they have abandoned 'to thine own self be true'. Truth cannot be self-serving. If one's starting position is 'I am great' then everything that follows will be corrupt. 'To thine own self distort the facts until 'I am great' is true.' Ha ha ha ha, fuckwits. Self-impressed gits.

And sure, the above is just an adolescent daydream. There are no superheroes. I'm merely a tiny voice in a roaring cacophony. The cacophony of course is created and encouraged by these men who would be gods. Whether consciously or sub-consciously, they know that any voices speaking a counter-proposition would destroy their delusion. The Roman at their shoulder would have to be killed. Not least so that others might know fear. Do we know that fear? Turn on the TV. I could make a case that every goddamn thing on TV pivots around fear - even the sitcoms.

Above and beyond all other mundane concerns, the ultimate reason we are kept fearful is so that those who imagine themselves as gods do not have their delusions punctured. Well I ain't fearful. And yes, my voice (and yours too) amounts to nothing more than a lousy 0.0001% of a decibel. Pathetic. The men who would be gods sneer. Where's our voice who'll fill an opera hall? Where's our booming tenor? Actually we don't need him. Anyone who's ever heard a two hundred voice choir doing Carmina Burana knows that the tenor is superfluous. The choir blows a tenor, regardless of how great he is, to smithereens.

We are that choir. Each of us is a voice adding to the whole. And yes, it's shambolic, but never mind - the decibel count is slowly climbing. Eventually the bullshit cone-of-silence cum echo-chamber that the men who would be gods live in, will eventually start to fail. With enough true notes the glass will break and the delusions of the self-impressed false idols will be smashed.

---

Did anyone notice in the last piece, violent though it was, that I wasn't actually proposing that we smash George Bush's brains all over the walls. It was merely imagery. Imagery as a sideways means of showing the aforementioned sock-puppet who he really is, ie. the fellow in the movie whose death we'd cheer. It was a back-handed means of puncturing delusion. Certainly I understand the appeal of insert-villain-here dangling from a lamp-post. But the truth of the matter is that even a piece of shit like our George could be rehabilitated. Honestly. The fellow that the voting public imagined as 'someone we'd like to have a beer with' could be that fellow. Him and anyone. I will never concede that rehabilitation is impossible. Unlikely, sure - impossible, never. And so it is here.

I have you pegged as a man of vice. C'mon buddy, where's that famous smirk? There it is! But forget those drugs you hoovered up. Forget the kids you fucked and had killed. Forget the war and the misery, suffering, and death you inflicted upon millions. All of that. Forget about it. Let's just go with gambling. You like a bet don't you? Sure you do. You and Dick used to put down a quiet couple of grand as to who could shoot that 'rabbit' first. Rabbits in high heels, ha! But forget the hunting too, we're talking gambling. Well here's a bet for you.

You know that scene in Platoon where the redneck stomps the head of the idiot son - "Holy shit, you see that fucking head come apart, man? Shit, I've never seen brains like that before, man!"? C'mon George, think back into those coke-addled wilderness years. Even though you couldn't get it up then (what with viagra not having been invented) you got a bit of a soft-on. Just in case it's a bit dim in your drug-fried brain, here's a pic. Remember this guy? He stomped that gook head.


And here's the set-up - We take that scene and digitally alter it so that the idiot son is you (not much of a stretch I admit). It'll be you copping the stomping. And with digital effects being what they are nowadays it'll be so real even you'll think it's you. Then we screen it in any multiplex as a short before the main feature just like in the old days. And here's the crunch - I'll bet every penny I have that the audiences cheer. They'll cheer when you're whimpering in terror and they'll laugh when your brains are spattered all over the walls. How about it George? You up?

Because that's you mate. You are the guy in the movie whose grisly death would have the audience cheering. That's you. Enjoy the rest of your worthless fucking life.

---

Apologies to Les Visible. This really ought to have been a comment on his marvellous George W. Bush, Grade A. USDA-Prime Sonofabitch but I whacked it up here instead.

Well first thing is first, i stopped taking the meds.


I can't explain it but i started to feel like things were getting worse. Granted mentally i dont think i'm much better, but at least i kinda feel like myself again. Paranoid, angry and out of place feel more like home and in all honesty i dont mind being back. I think this is just the way i was designed and i'm becoming okay with it. On a postive note, i think the drugs actually gave me a sort of perspective into the crazy shit i do, and when i find myself loosing it, i'm now able to tell myself to calm down. Well... maybe its not that easy. I kinda loose it first, stop and focus, and then make the proper adjustments. I'm not sure if it matters by the time i figure it out but at least, it feels like i have more control...
I had mentioned in my last blog that i have met someone new, and surprisingly enough, i'm still talking with him. I do however feel like i'm scaring them away.
I honestly dont know how to date and i'm sure as fuck i do not understand how to treat a new relationship, how to treat someone new that i'm interested in. What i find myself, already doing, after only a few weeks of hanging out is me getting extremely jealous. The guy just has that look that draws people towards him and it seems like everywhere i go with him i'm wanting to fight these fucks off like he is already my boyfriend. I hate the way it feels honestly and have even considered just giving up on the relationship altogether cuz i just mentally, don't think i can handle it right now. I dont wanna be a jealous fuck, i hate feeling crazy for no reason. The first couple times it happened, i kinda fought myself into not caring and saying just let it go but obviously i couldnt and i would find myself ranting at him and going nuts. I mean i'm just waiting for him to walk out of my place and tell me i'm just not worth the hassel. I sware i can read the thought behind his eyes saying, run away now. He's stayed so far, but i'm positive he will not stomach much more of my bullshit.
I mean, come on, beyond me being a jealous porn star, which is an oxymoron in itself, the poor kid now has to deal with a new costant critisim i'm sure he has never dealt with before. "whats dating a porn stars like, how can you be okay with that?", "don't expect much from him", "omg i heard" this" about him", and so forth are just the daily reminders of what a mistake the people around him think he is making. God, sometimes i agree with them. i'm not worth his time, i not worth wasting his precious life on, i'm not worth the chance he is taking.
But he constantly reassures me that he gets to see what they don't see, the true person i am behind the faccad of being Erik Rhodes, and he keeps telling me it seems to be worth it.
In my head i keep thinking to myself, "Really, Why?"
"dont ask questions, keep it moving, this might only be another short glimpse of happiness, so enjoy it for what its worth now, oh god, they are not right about me"
Its what has honestly been keeping a smile on my face. Fuck, thats all i been asking for... someone to see me for me and just not be full of shit when they say it. And for some reason i believe him when he says it.
The problem is...
I have been wrong before.

*dont mind my spelling, spell check doesnt work on my mac, dick.

Hands up - who likes whatreallyhappened? Thank you. Hands up - who likes Dave McGowan? Thank you. Actually truth be known I have no idea if anyone stuck their hands up or not. I just imagine it. Just like I imagine that far more people stuck their hands up for the former over the latter. No one would be surprised if that were so, would they?


And they're very different creatures these two. Mike Rivero is huge. He's mentioned everywhere. Everyone links to him. And he links to everyone. He's an aggregator, a bit like Reuters. No one would declare him a great writer, but that's okay. Thanks to him and his links I learnt about the USS Liberty and all manner of things.


Dave McGowan on the other hand is a guy almost no one has heard of. I first found him via an obscure google trail that led to an extract from his book Programmed to Kill, which analysed serial killers. It was a mindfucker. I'd never read anything like it. But I went nowhere from there. Perhaps a year later I came across his website and hoovered up everything. And finally, (thanks to Penny), I came across the absolutely extraordinary 'Pedophocracy'. The Pedophocracy is the mindfuck to end all mindfucks.

(I'm going to take it as read that you, yes, you reading here, are familiar with The Pedophocracy. And if you haven't read it yet, for chrissakes go read it, it's not that long)

Me, I reckon that the Pedophocracy is the Rosetta Stone of the wickedness in the world. It is the perfect self-perpetuating mechanism of corruption. It is the ultimate carrot and the ultimate stick. What it offers cannot be had anywhere else. No one who participates in it - no one - will ever spill the beans. Besides, so extreme is its perversity that no one would believe them if they did.

The key thing that strikes one when reading The Pedophocracy is the size of the thing. The last time I wrote about it I was particularly impressed with the CIA, the FBI and the DC metro police all cooperating to shut down the entire investigation into 'the Finders'. But then again, public outrage at government complicity in the Dutroux case in Belgium resulted in a National strike, shutting down the entire country. That's pretty big. Mind you, this was arse-about trumped by the utter lack of any decent response. Only a single guy, Dutroux, went to jail.

But with the Pedophocracy, even the small stuff is big. Let's just take the McMartin case which pivoted on a single pre-school. Under this school was a network of tunnels. Think about that. A network of tunnels is not the kind of thing that could be pulled off by a pervy hobbyist and his buddy. Think of every tunnel you ever heard of or saw in the movies - like The Great Escape. Tunnels are dug by teams of people. Teams, dig it.

McMartin was a single school. The army base child-care scandal spanned the country, from the Presidio to West Point, and every famous base in between. In spite of army officer parents resigning their commissions in disgust, not a single person stood trial for any of this. The army had nothin' to say 'bout nothin' to no one.

And beyond the scale of each of these was the horrific fact that all of them were, in some fashion or another, connected and part of a bigger picture. All of them involved satanistic ritual perpetually featuring fecal matter and animal sacrifice. All of them were grist for the ubiquitous well-funded experts on 'false-memory syndrome' comprised almost totally by 'ex'-paedophiles, or spooks, or both. None of these cases seemed to be of any interest to anyone in the media beyond a blame-the-victim angle. If the investigations weren't farces, the trials were. Most involved no trials at all, in spite of staggering evidence. And then there were the actual connections, as in hard-wired connections with telexes etc. When the DC police busted the Finders warehouse in Washington they found evidence of elaborate communications links and contacts spanning the globe. And a working audio-visual studio. And a sacrificial altar. Belgium looks like nothing special. It's almost impossible to escape the conclusion that the Pedophocracy is FUCKING HUGE.

Hold that thought.

---

I lost count of how many times here I've declared that if one wanted to know who ran the world one need merely look to the media and see who isn't mentioned. The media is the reality machine. If a thing is mentioned in the media then we can all agree that it exists. In this category go things like Al Qaeda, Iraqi WMDs (Iranian, whatever), Arab/Muslim wickedness etc. etc.

As for the flipside, the ne plus ultra thing-that-doesn't-exist is the private ownership of the Fed and every other nation's Reserve Bank. Since this fact is never mentioned we may safely conclude that the people who own the banks own the media. And besides, it stands to reason. Ownership of the money supply only works if no one knows. Were it common knowledge the Fed would be in flames.

Okay, so here we are on the net. We know better. We go to wrh. There, Mike Rivero tells us all about the private ownership of the Fed. Three cheers for him. Now - Can anyone ever remember ever having seen anything about the Pedophocracy, anything at all, on wrh? Or anywhere?

Call me old fashioned but I hit Dave McGowan daily just to see if there's anything new. Like I said, I'm a fan. But it occurs to me that in my daily wandering around on the web that there's the whole rest of the internet, and then there's Dave McGowan. Apart from a few small-timers like Pen and yours truly no one will touch this guy. How is that possible?

And did you hold that thought?

And are you wondering yet?

Hat's off! Kikz goes above and beyond! God knows what the kids made of it, ha ha. Click on the pic for a higher rez.



BTW - The '666' was me. Me, and photoshop, that is.