Post of interminable - or at very least - undeterminable length ahead! Buckle up... for what will doubtless be a long, and sometimes 'bumpy' ride, or slither off, to the nearest 'internet safe space' now!
REUTERS/Carlos Barria US President Donald Trump holds a proclamation recognizing Israel's sovereignty over the Golan Heights as he is applauded by Israel's Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and others during a ceremony in the Diplomatic Reception Room at the White House in Washington, March 25, 2019.
"We have lost, irretrievably, a way of being human. And although there still remains, in our flesh almost, the vague presence of something which has been, I do not see how such an ephemera can be passed on to our children. Standing beyond the edge of an extraordinarily rich and varied epoch, we must now face the sad loss of gender." Ivan Illich
I don't follow many western media channels, so I do not know how wide the distribution of the photo above may be. It has not appeared in any of the channels I do check in on. At first glance, one might suppose this some kind of gag shot - a staged, photoshop romp thru the recessess of super cynical imagination. It appears, however, to be an 'upfront' "actual" representation of a ceremony of enormous significance - which although it might indeed cause 'gagging' - on the part of anyone still possessed of some sense of propriety and limits - but the 'gag' is one which will have deadly serious consequences for a world already teetering on the edge of total talmudic takeover.
As such, I see it as a worthy way of embellishing this final dispatch from outside the talmudic hell realms. Who is this cretinous creature crouched in posture of supine submission to the gloating, grinning ghouls above him. Who allowed him to besmirch the office he holds, the facility in which he operates from, in such overthetop manner? Is EVERYONE in America really, truly.... taken? And taking all this lying down?
It was one year ago - on the pages of GBTM - that I announced a premonition of the west having fallen fully into the maw of talmudic terror - aka - kabbalist hell realms. I was unsure of how substantiable that claim might be - other than as other of my intuitive exercises, which have proven to be quite accurate - but I am no longer at all 'unsure.' This photo has removed any possible doubt. It is yu see - an official notice of the depths to which your world has fallen. Kabbalism loves this kind of symbolic gesture.
From here on... the descent will be rapid... and severe. Unloosed from all remaining bounds, talmudic kabbalist necromancy will usher in the 'social revolution' required to remove opposition to its rule forever. Mandatory 'transgendered' sex education will have appeared within five years. No more males. No mo testosterone. No more point - in raising kids. Illich - as I quoted him in that 2009 essay - will have been proven correct. I did not wish him to be. I spent the last 10 years fighting to prevent him from being. All for nought. There was no one to raise up in rebellion, no one left to wake. That fight will go on - in the land of the living. Where I sought to have you join me. Sorry things - 'didn't work out.'
I started the essay which appears below some time early in the present month. Knowing that in very short time - on the 10th anniversary of publishing my first foray onto the internet - my job will be done, and the time given over to attempting to rouse the westerlings to their peril, expired... I wanted something that could sum up that interlude, contextualize its purpose, analyse its success or lack therefore... and most important of all... leave me feeling completely ready to depart.
And altho I was torn between whether place this photo on BR or GPBM, it wasn't long before I realized that it's meaning and message fit perfectly into place with the Chapter and Introduction which were presented here, before I turned my attention back to 'current events.' The 'culture war' which those segments described is over; Maimonides and his inheritors have completed their 'holy war' against the west, and their victory is complete. So complete, that I would be wasting my time to continue to write a book - in English - for which there will decidedly be - no readers. Yes... this is the end, my beautiful friends. I shall not tarry longer. Stepping into the post western world means stepping completely out of yours. I've no reason at all for further visits to a place where a billboard such as this 'signing ceremony' goes completely unremarked. The happiness and joy of being alive in a very lively
place shines through the piece below; part of the ebullience is from knowing that my task is almost done - and that the reward was in the doing. Here, our trails part. I've done all I could for former kith n kin. I retire with the honor of knowing - I did not let down the side.
REVENGE - OF THE [GWEILO] NINJA TURTLE!
The onset of spring to these Anatolian shores, after the darkest, wettest winter ever, was I hoped, going to bring inducement to return to these pages at last. But even with the return of the time of the "New Morel World Order" which I celebrated on the pages of GBTM one year ago, there didn't seem to be juice flowing into these ol veins to get the keyboard a flowin. Then, walking back last eve from feeding the critters, I looked up at a descending sun... and saw, sitting right underneath its benevolent glow, the EXACT picture of one of our 'land turtles,' taken shape in the form of an ephemeral cloud! Head and longish neck stretching out from a shell, it was indeed a 'spittin image.’* And I knew, at last it was time.
This species of tortoise, every big as large as one of GRINGOSTANS biggest snappers, happens to enjoy land-lubbin as a lifestyle, unlike every other tortuga I'd been familiar with since youth. They basically pull into the shell for the duration of winter, hibernation style... and appear again as one of the first harbingers of springs' return. Nibbling pon the very first verdant verdure nature has placed upon our plates, they are the very image of the 'slow cook' low speed, carefree lifestyle habituate!
Were you ever ‘doin bizness’ within somebodies outhouse, lookin up at the wall, where all those tacky posters used to sit, i nfront of your earthen throne, and read the one - "when this trailers' rockin, don't come a knockin
!">?? That's how it is - these days of "turtle love," when you are walking through the woods here, and hear the clear sound of 'knockin shells.' Hells bells' what a way to go about the business of gettin jiggy! One shell-suited reptilian kinda climbs on the back side of the other, lookin for a rear entry harder to find that the spot on Achilles heel what his ol lady forgot to dip in the milk. But likes they say - where there's love.... there's a way!
Anyways, this kind of natural percussive 'music' which is a part of the fun of mushroom huntin, has amused my simple mind for years, as a kind of metaphor for what it must be like to be a biped dread back in the land of porn and endless horn Y dis satisfaction which is of course one of the many planned results of the culture war that this site was designed to lucidate pon. As the two poles of the species grow more and more estranged from that basic solidarity which we were blessed to enjoy as our birth right as intelligent human beans, the "shells" of mutual alienation are growing bigger and tougher. That's what I've gathered, at any rate, from the decade long interval of lookin back in at a dyin wester world from afar.
My own exodus, as alluded to in the story which started this own hejira off - 2009s DUENDE - OR - THIS HAPPY SADNESS- was very much in the spirit of a guy fleeing from not just an increasingly alien/nation, but specifically from the perturbation of seeing my closest spiritual/corporal mind/body companions of the curvaceous kind either dead... or so benumbed, downwardly dumbed, or other wise troubled as to be just as good as! I hadn't so much given up as set my sights on distant shores. And Asia has more than met those expectations, in that regard. A culture shock interlude of several years was eventually followed by an introduction to a kind of womynkind which has NOT totally lost touch with what a guy of the heterosexualist type needs so much; that slithery sort of erotic spirit which no amount of hidey type clothes can really disguise! And let me assure you gents - those among ya not yet bent that is - under neath all them layers of disguise, your Muslima mistress is as coiled and hot as any ol vixen you've ever met. Jus more shy about lettin on about it. Mo work.... bigger reward. That's how I've come to see it anyhoo.
Why am I going on about the arcana of reptilian reproductive ritual, and domestic consumption? Probably a 'triple threat' at work here. Not only.. did we have a nice new moon last night, to start the countdown into the steamy moments of 'full moon' romance later on this month... but there can be no 'coincidence' to the fact that at the very same time, I'm nibbling daily pon my very favorite most 'wild food'** which appears only at the beginning of the season, then disappears till another year rolls round. These 5 starred flowers are a potent source of what it is that the goyish world has become starved of.
Perhaps it is overdue, indeed, that I be tellin youse, that if... as per the precis of this site... one is to take on talmudic kabbalism, mano a mono, with ANY hope of success...
you better have sussed out what gives them kabbalist fellers their 'edge'... and made it your business to 'get me some dat!' Which is why, a few years back, and at this very moment in the year, I found myself looking at some foilage in the forest where my four leggers were a chewin... and intuitively discovered the VERY THING I was going to need to be properly prepared from my task ahead! As it would turn out, the properties which this plant contained, and very very few others do, were well known to those who [falsely] call themselves 'Sraelites,' because their wholly stolen land is chock a bloc with it. Abundant sources of these micro-elements in their food and water is doubtless - in my opinion - what has given the kabbalist krew a 'leg over' the competition. I know that I for shure... get to 'shakin a leg' when granted access to the magic weed! And right now, locked in a war with my enemy... the rabbit who sneaks around at night to nibble up all the available stock around us... I'm taking extra note of just how important this spring ritual has become for me.
You wanna combine that potent natural majic with the morel mushroom kind.... l@@k out! Yes, we are huntin - and eating the earth spirits daily. And giving thanks for the many blessings received. This boost is gonnna have to last for the rest of the year... and just to be clear, it's been a 'known known' for me since long time back that I am indeed 'governed' by the lunar cycle... and the 'full orgasmic potency' of which the anti-kabbalist witchdoctor Wilhelm Reich spoke is never so abundant as when that orb hangs big n high in the sky. That's that. Which takes me back...
to where I started here. I've linked the story "Duende" to the site where it originally appeared... my very first web offering. http://web.archive.org/web/20110711102259/http://vestigialvision.com/
The stories which appeared – 10 years ago on "Vestigial Vision," though now only available as it appears on the wayback machine, are much much better read in that original version, than the copies I've made and posted since.
Those who go to that site, as I did recently, will discover a writer much more polished and eloquent than the hack I became - as I made the TRENCH WARFARE of communication on the internet my business for the rest of this closing decade. As I look back at it now... I could have stopped writing altogether, after that initial spurt - and nothing would really have needed to be added - everything important about what has developed in the 10 years hence somehow got covered in that short interval. But - the writing which followed - although intended
to be of benefit to others - mostly benefited me...on my long journey out of the west and into the post western world I now fully belong to.
Back then - 2009 - fresh off a looong rest from both the business of scratching for a living, and the even more onerous business of mourning my departed dear one, I was feeling the benefits of the full time 'onboard' lifestyle I'd been living all over the western hemisphere since retiring. The effects of the 'death match' with the big league kabbalist klan of Bronfman were alleviated somewhat, and I was not yet aware of just how badly the process of Asian acculturation/deculturation was going to throw me out of my comfort zone for years to come! Happier, healthier, more relaxed than I'd been at any point in my adult years, I had started writing out of a feeling of needing to get at the task which her death had set me.
We aren't supposed to want it. It's a sinful kind of thing. Let it go. Move on. Take er easy. And... for what its worth... on the level of the purely personal... I'll buy that. We can bury more poison, more deeply, in ourselves, by refusing to see why an event, or a series of events occurred, and take responsibility for them. By projecting all the blame somewhere else, we can lose the chance to take note of missteps, improve our self-awareness, make ourselves -indeed- if not better, at least better prepared, for what the future holds for us. But...
and this is where - admittedly - things get quite ...sticky/tricky/...
then there is REVENGE. For, on behalf of... as sworn to, [and seared into your soul as a result of so doing]...
somebody else. Bigger than 'personal.' I'm fully 'invested' in it. I live it. It lives me. And I'm good with it. I can only hope 'it's good with me.' But that really does not matter. All that matters is that I make it so. If you ever feel a lack of 'meaning' in your life.... try it on. You'll not suffer those symptoms again. Oh! One one more thing, before we move along...
if you've ever been a TOTAL FUCKUP all your life... even if, by that, I mean... secretly, to your self of selves, sort of of hidden appraisal and admission of your life's progress to date.... this is the cure. The only way to truly 'live for yourself, and no other'... is to act on behalf of ... another.
Or so I have I found.
For those of my generation, and the one directly preceding it, all roads lead east, to Asia - the cultural zeitgeist of our times made it so! A smorgasbord of spiritual offerings was laid out in front of eyes dazzled by the notion that we - inheritors of the greatest, most widespread material abundance ever witnessed in this world - were capable of gathering even more 'wealth' into our maws. That this form of wealth, as presented by the cultural vanguard in control of the social narrative, was 'non-material,' difficult to locate, impossible to simply'acquire' and/or outside the boundaries of 'ordinary' consciousness just made it all the more desirable!
And desire, being the trickster, intrinsic 'shadow' companion of our individual and collective lives, was exactly what moved us, in search of 'freedom' from desire, life beyond the mundane, the need for more and faster liberation
... from wanting things! If their was an irony built into that quest from the beginning, it's safe to say that most - if not all - of us missed it; if we 'wanted' to want
less, live simpler, truer, more 'authentic' lives, in accord with nature and the cosmic flow - then that yearning must needs be fulfilled - just as with any other of our yearnings, which got staunched by the acquisition of a new car, watch, love interest, degree, or clothing accessory!
Another thing also /lost\ upon most us seekers
of the day, was that over in Asia.... that heartland of the noble quest for the 'real purpose of life,' the truer self, the enlightened being.... folks are anything but free of base desires, carnal capacities, duplicitous yearnings or innate 'wantingness.' That lesson, for me, would come much later in life. It was a hard one; it's acquisition however, was a milestone in my advancement from hopeless western wanker, wandering in a utopian mist, in search of unicorns and leprechauns ... into the species of predator I am today, and shall remain for the rest of my time in this mortal coil!~!
Watching my own retreat from time spent with "holy men" and the 'spiritually ascended,' as well as similar recoiling movements on the part of many others from my part of the world, I was perhaps, a little prepared for what life of the ground would really be like, once my Asian pilgrimage had begun for real... but in truth, not nearly enough.
Ten years ago, getting out of Dodge had loomed up at last on my radar, as "job one".... cause I was - as I posed it to a correspondent of that time, "tired of living in a sionist outpost" and knew already what the end of line for those who stayed behind in the fallen lands was gonna be. If I may be forgiven the imponderable naivete of supposing that hanging out in a Muslim part of the world was going to alleviate that situation - "who knew"... who coulda seen it comin?...
that the entirety of "Arab Street" and adjoining states were going to shortly end up being mere hand puppets of the ORIGINAL [tm]TERROR STATE ... AND ... indeed, the banking and transportation security sectors which one has little to no chance of avoiding interaction with - as firmly in the control of kabbalists as are those of the GULAGISTANI satrapies?
I didn't. Now I do. And that... where ever, in this hang dog world you may go... there THEY be! So - it's best to be just gettin on ... with gettin on living in a post-reality, post-freedom fry world, and finding a hidey hole where - at least - the 5G MONSTER is not gonna eat your brains alive!
That's not actually the reason we headed into the hills here, to live lost to the modern world for the better part of the year. It was originally my plan to continue the liveaboard lifestyle which had become my want back across the pond. But... as I pondered what would be the real meaning and impact of the 'drone' technology which began to sweep across the globe some years back... I realized that there would be about ZERO invisibility for anyone who wished to live the pirate life, pon open waters!
That pretty much just left the rocky forested mountains of Anatolia as a lifestyle choice. So I geared up to switch back over to my 'ROWDY YATES' persona of early boyhood, and left the buccaneer thing for a later reincarnation. Hoofers became my passion, the four footed enablers of a GREAT ESCAPE which would emulate the ANCESTORS who rode wagons west from their Altaic campout grounds millennia ago, to become "Europeans" instead of Asians, which in fact, we never really stopped being, even after change of address.
Having personally already spent considerable years as a 'de-illusioned'[not totally the same as 'dis-illusioned']consumer of an Asian religious tantric tradition which I had entertained notions as to the authenticity of ... I might have been expected to have been somewhat 'on the alert' for scammers, cons, and sundry 'mammerjammers' pon reaching these shores. But, relaxed, calm, and looking only for a free n easy sunset time to wind things down with - after a brutal, bludgeon and pick kind of business life back in the land of 'capitalist' unfree enterprise, I was not. I was, in fact, blindsided by all the above, and more. It was bad, for several years, whilst growing free of illusions, and growing a hide. I look back at it now as just another - rite of passage.
Fact is – tis what I’m doing right here…. Celebrating 10 years of ‘rites of passage’… which have delivered me to somewhere remarkably similar to the place I had ‘imagined’ at the start of my decade long sojourn; in the form of a ‘back up plan’ should my intended plan … alerting and then mobilizing the brethren back in the fallen lands to cognizance of their IMMINENT peril… and what to do about it.
It should go without saying that Plan A failed. I’ll say it anyways. The plan of mine to stir awareness of… and then resistance to… Talmudic kabbalisms take over of the west was an abject failure. For its’ intended beneficiaries that is. For me – it has produced the desired cutting of ties, the complete dissolution of embedded socialization received in youthful indoctrination, the end of that all too long interrum in my life when I was a stranger in a foreign land – the land of my birth. I was born ‘in the west.’ I am no longer a part of that world. And it is no longer part of me.
Now, at home in foreign spaces, a habitué of a lifestyle I dreamed of living[but secretly thought impossible to locate in this here world… I have discharged all possible debts to the former kith n kin of the fallen lands.
As the perceptive reader will have by now guessed: this piece is the “euology”…. For a person/a now died… to the world where they come from. Like my youthful hero who comes back from the dead to hunt down his would be killers, one by one… I’ve tracked each tardnational who besmirched my on line presence down to their hidey hole… and let blow their sorry brains out.
The lad is gone native. And he will not be back, to continue the conversation. When I started this final post, a few weeks back… I was gonna run on a bit about the various phases of the past ten years of writing back to the fallen lands, review the landscape, prolly even pat myself on the back, as per usual.
But I’m skippin all that. The results of my latest trip down the rabbit hole of history have been so mind-blowing/numbing that the entire concept of BARBAROUS RELIQUARY has been taken apart… and may well not be put together agin!
If it is… it will be in a different language, for a different audience that that originally intended. For the better part of 5 years now, 99.1 % of my social interactions[of two legger kind that is= about half of my total ‘social interactions’ with critters of all kinds!]has been in a NON-INDOEUROPEAN language. As I’ve gradually come to understand that my role is not merely to write about what happened in the past, but to actively participate in what will happen… in a post western world abuildin secret like…
I’ve had to reframe both my way of thinking about things and what to do when the thinking is through. That phase is done – I’m now fully involved in what was… 10 years back… my “back up plan” in case… impossible as it seemed at that time…
There were no able-bodied, strong minded mensch left in the wester world to join me in picking up cudgels, and taking the fight to the enemy.
I don’t hold out a lot of hope for the folks what be livin in this part of the world… but that’s still a whole lot more hope than for the one’s what Ieft behind in the fallen lands. Every day I visit “the internet” I get further confirmed in that conclusion! Even though my daily interludes in English on the net have only represented a minute part of my daily interactions with the two legger world, it’s still a distraction from getting on with the main task.
Maybe when I’m too old n frail to saddle up no more, I’ll sit down and write that book. In some language other than English. But it will be about a much bigger zone of human history than the mere European. That book was always doomed to being an adventure in the tragic. I’m more into happy endings/ I’ve outlived my allegiance to the Helleno-European abortion of “the tragedy of life.”
I’ve got me miles to roam and tribes to gather. And this time… we won’t be fightin on behalf of anybody cept ourselves!
Happy trails amigo.