informant38
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...But of these sophisms and elenchs of merchandise I skill not...
Milton, Areopagitica

Except he had found the
standing sea-rock that even this last
Temptation breaks on; quieter than death but lovelier; peace
that quiets the desire even of praising it.

Jeffers, Meditation On Saviors


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27.1.09

England:

these articles are related, not just because they're happening at the same time - they're the results of the actions of the same people in different venues
Mobile phone oligarch flees Russia for new life in Britain
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[UK]Government must release cabinet minutes on lead-up to Iraq war
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Britain on the brink of an economic depression, say experts
The way the economy went to shit in tandem with the rise of awareness at how thoroughly the US has been compromised, used, drained.
A minor version of this the rise of broad-stroke anti-Semitism as the foundations of normal business shake and crumble under the feet of the irritated and half-awake who blame "the Jews" for what's happening.
Yes it's that, no it's not. Parasitic template, but within the parasite's little desperate brain, another one. With its own sickened consciousness driving it forward.
Each triumph creates a god that demands worship and provides guidance, because it exists outside the timeline, or outside the finite dot we're trained to think of as the only reality there is - the present. Which somehow magically becomes the past without our seeing it happen.
Same pattern of insertion into the middle of the transaction all the way up and down the line, get in between someone and what they want, the opposite of providing a service, interrupt the provision, interrupt the reaching toward, so now people want to get next to God, hey we have that, discount prices too, just give us half the money up front, or the energy, or the credultiy, you know that stuff, the blind faith in the middleman that he'll come through, because what else do you have?
I'd rather put something here that confirms, lifts up, but it's all being ripped off now, sucked at by pigs, in between the keyboard and the server farm a gantlet of swine, the thoughts polluted by the suck of mindless attention, diverted into the sewer lines of the dominance hierarchies and their unravelling skeins of organization, little clots of basically nice people going sour and bitter with being denied, and fed yours truly, all set up and awaiting the Messiah. Any Messiah.
The Messiah that will deliver the swine to their kingdom without demanding change, without demanding they stop acting like and being pigs. Pig heaven.
People wake up to that, the scam at the center of it, the magician's redirection and fast talk, all the tricks of the trade television and and film and story make plain, CGI hope, virtual possibilities, Second Afterlife. At the same time they wake up to the grandeur of how fucked they are, virtually step by step their economic security dissipates.
So that if you extend the process out far enough, and up the timeline far enough, you can see people who understand completely what's going on, and at the same time have no economic power to do anything about it. Or who if they do have economic power are so thoroughly compromised by having it and keeping it they end up working for the thing they know is dooming us, eating us, fucking our children right in front of us while we stand there paralyzed with shame and confusion.
Good folks still make a sizable chunk of who's here. But the varieties of goodness are hyper-distinct to the point of mutual repulsion. The ones who say but there are decent Muslims and Jews and Christians and atheists and everything in between and they all have that in common are themselves ridiculed to a degree that's assault, that hamstrings them, stunts the growth of anything really unifying, blocks the light.
Good folks who either get so caught up in feeding themselves and their relatives they can only hobby through the dreck and shitstorm information like HAM radio amateurs, or who have no voice because they have no information-expanding energy. (Me I have this big podium, invisible and unrewarding as it may be, but a nest of vipers all around it hissing and biting, and outside that a bunch of sheep staring, and outside that a bunch of angry cynical children staring, and outside that a bunch of cops staring, and outside that who the fuck knows.)
England grinds to an economic halt while its people wake up to Blair's utter complicity in an agenda - Iraq - that had no regard at all for the best interest of the country he was ostensibly leading. None. Zero. The husk of what it might have become with all these tools and resources gathered itself bled dry now, the husk drained of every last scrap of nutrients, all gone toward the parasite hive and its insect god.
It was all along about the interests and well-being of the people who drove the BBC into the same ditch they drove CNN after they bought Ted Turner out.
In the sense that a puppet held before a mindless crowd can be said to lead them, Blair led England to this.
Albion, Babylon.

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