Demystifying Psychic Ability

 

I really wish the contenders would finally take the spook out of it instead of just writing it off. There is nothing “paranormal”, “parapsychological” or “extrasensory” about well developed cognitive ability- and it’s not like we don’t have the medical advancements to explain it in detail. Back in the day of Zener cards, they only had the electroencephalogram to assess neural activity. Psychology was still very much theory and pretty much in its baby steps over the bio-electric processes involved. We have since learned that these messengers in the olfactory process can be extremely graphic. While for all our domestication, we may only be subconsciously aware of these signals, that does not say those that advanced this acumen in the wilds haven’t retained that awareness. Evolution is just as much dependent on environment and circumstance despite heredity. Genes get switched off and on even within a generation. That we know now from our studies of mutations in the genome. 

 

I hear so many people make claims about locations that have a certain “vibe” to them. I have often found this to stem from an acute sense of these bio-electric markers left behind, especially where drastic things have happened. Then there is also the sensitivity to a variety of geophysical anomalies. It seems the punters tend to underestimate the human sensory capacity at it’s peak, especially when the brain becomes wholly aware of these things. My faculties involve what some define as clairvoyance, even chronokinesis, but being the sort that can recognize outcomes in the algorithmic patterns of things, I’d much rather attribute it to my rather graphic non-linear scope of causality. Now having said that, I tend to be critical of fortune tellers and above all mediums. While a deck of cards or the roll of dice can be conducive to the symmetry of local causality (especially if you’re a strange attractor) much of these half wits can't seem to get that bigger picture (say nothing of cold reading) because they just can’t grasp the physics. Of course to deny them their superstitious enigma could mean the end of a very profitable fashion industry, say nothing of religion. So this is the real problem

Rest in Pieces

Don’t know what it is lately, but some really distant memories of the past have been haunting me. It was the time leading up to leaving Nova Scotia and the long two years of recovery after. Something had a grip on me both mentally and physically and I was well and truly losing it. I had long since quit the halucinogens and not in the habit of kiffing my brains out like some I knew. There was something else in my blood that pitched up in tests that got some physician irate until he was silenced by some undisclosed third party. I had wasted away to a mere 47 kilos and the absurd social drinking habits of everyone at the time was not helping. Aside from all that, it also turned out my very strange blood chemistry did not allow the consumption of certain condiments. I had a real bitch of a time trying to get through to people, that for me to “dine out” was a very bad idea. It seems people had a real obsession with that in those days. I had to endure a lot of mockery and gaslighting, aside from being labelled “antisocial” or told that it’s all “in my head” no matter how many times I passed out or fell into a coma. Preferring to avoid the misery of the latter, I stuck to my guns despite all insults, and was not surprised when they too fell folly of their habits. This attitude of alleged superhuman is unquestionably military indoctrination of the times and my father was certainly full of it.

 

What seems to have brought back these memories was my brother’s rants about the perpetual macho forays of my father and his excessive happy-hour cajoleries with the worst possible grifters always getting on our case, say nothing of their seedy sexual ploys. Indeed, the man was so manipulative, any friends we might have made were not safe from his posturings for want of some weird kind of hero worship. What did they call him back in Westfalia? Sgt. Rock of easy company. Gis a break. “I wanna talk to you about your parents”- “Talk to them yourself, I’m long done with that lot.” Probably another reason why I would spend my weekends as far away from this region as possible. Aside from having to answer for my brain damaged mother, it was bad enough having to steer my drunken father home since the age of 12, but as all that ended in a severe stroke in Holland, I cursed every one of them for buying into that stigma. Of course they were shocked, coming to realize just how mortal the human condition actually is, no matter how you try to psyche yourself up. I am not a teetotaler but all things have their limits, and that one was crossed just too many times at my expense. Thank fuck that’s all far behind me now. Rest in pieces.

Social Distancing

Like the folks from Bellingcat have often said, much of what calls itself the news media theses days is actually being ripped from blogs, FB and Instagram, out of convenience. Of all the professional liars, I find RT and the BBC the smuggest. When it comes to carrots on a stick, it seems the Russians have it mastered in ways you would think could never happen. RT applies a pseudologia that likes to borderline on conspiracy theory, but only in so far as give an impression of openness. Of course they’d never divulge any errors of their own, just the same as the BBC would never admit the lies and blame shifting of Brexit (or the Tories for that matter). It makes Fox News and Q-anon seem more like an amateur circus for the functionally illiterate. I’ve come across all kinds of these misinformation agents in cyberspace. They like to plant themselves in all things esoteric, especially where belief degenerates into pseudoscience and virtual cosplay. The worst part is, a lot of them don’t even realize it themselves. Call me a low glider, but I’ve always preferred to keep below that radar of popularity contests. So many things entrusted to me on the personal level, I wouldn’t think of writing a novel about. No, I’m not talking about those years in HQ, nor its political ugly rumour gallery. All the places I’ve been and the people I met. Influential people, who for some damn reason confided in me like a priest in some remote confessional, as if I should have some magical power over destiny. Although I’m inclined to take much of that for projecting, or maybe it’s just the way I look, it was nonetheless a learned experience. When the truth is stranger than fiction, of course no one wants to know. Tell them what they want to hear and they’ll never let go. Many don’t realize just how much is revealed- not only by their demeanor or choice of words. My paternal grandfather was an immigration inspector, the best in his field. He could read people like a book, but it’s not like I really want to.

Malice in Blunderland

Blocked another couple of UKP throwbacks from my FB. The recourse from his sycophantic following of no minds is bad enough, but trying to derail my posts with irrelevant or cryptic comments then gaslighting when I question his motives, is really looking for trouble. They seem to have it in for anything I post that might challenge their way of thinking (especially when it comes to science), despite having sod all to do with their community, or country for that matter. They just can't seem to get that through their heads. No more rule Britannia. No more center of the EU universe, tsk, tsk.

Some kind of NLP thought police bent on dictating their pseudo-moral popular consensus for the archbish of Canterbury, but trying to relate in terms of CBeebees, is just fit for the rubber room. Perhaps they shouldn't wonder just how much of a nanny state their country has become, or is this some new form of pedophilia? In Germany, critical thinking is common place, it's what you learn in the course of personal responsibility, so I guess I'm perfectly normal. Somehow these UK pagans seem to have missed that turn, always looking for a sacrificial lamb, like I really need that kind of social acceptability. So you're working for charity? Well so am I. Two different countries, different systems. At least mine gives refugees a roof over their heads, so save the emotional blackmail for your so-called "decent folk". You're way out of your league.

A day in the life of nobody cares

 I don’t know what it is, but some people are really missing the whole toolbox. This guy, he knows my routines, still he insists on calling at my greatest inconvenience. Of course if I don’t answer, he just keeps calling. When I finally do answer, he holds me up for one and a half hours ranting absolute meaningless twaddle of everything he disapproves of around him. If I tell him I’m busy preparing my lunch or dinner, I get a lecture on how he hardly eats anything. When he does, it’s usually at some ungodly hour. If I’m trying to do some work, I get a lecture on how he doesn’t feel up to doing anything. He never gets up before 11, say nothing of taking 3 hours to get his ass in gear. The house he inherited still hasn’t been cleared out and is slowly falling apart around his ears. He wanted me to help him, but keeps retracting in short notice. He has this fucking Kangoo that I swear is his life’s blood and even picks the little rocks out from the tire treads. He drives it around to every discounter in town looking for the cheapest possible deals only to hoard them in his attic or larder. I swear there’s enough stuff stashed there that could accommodate a whole family for the next 3 years. He doesn’t have internet and the mobile he bought is still sitting in the corner collecting dust. He always keeps trying to discuss the news. My father used to do that until I set fire to his paper right there at the breakfast table. Of course the TV sucks. It always has since Murdoch took over RTL. He likes to ruminate about about his days stationed in Ramstein as opposed to the nursing career he ended up following. I honestly think what’s missing in his life is a drill sergeant, like I haven’t had enough ass to kick all these years. Thanks but no thanks. I’ll be glad when this lockdown is over.

Living the Lie

 Yes, I’ve heard all those platitudes about how we were almost invaded. The tactical maps on the wall of a certain barracks, but like all great plans, it’s always a question of logistics. Nonetheless the ugly rumours served the old carrot on a stick, and in that folly, our so-called fearless leaders were just the usual marionettes, never entrusted more than what served that ruse, for all their dubious internal politics. It didn’t even matter if they failed, as long as it distracted from the real shit going on. That’s all it ever amounted to until the game plan changed. So go ahead and wallow in your pride of meaningful purpose on the scale of 1 to 10, just remember these words of Sun Tzu: All warfare is based on deception. No, this isn’t some conspiracy theory, just a fundamental fact of life or death in the real world.

The Real Story

Don’t ask me why we had to live in the most ridiculous squalour, but my Father had some strange ideals about the working class underdog hero even in the military. His parents were escapees from the household of the Marquis of Salisbury otherwise known as the Cecils, descendants of the notorious Prime Minister of Elizabethan times. His father was the grandson of the concubine relationship between my great-great gran and the Marquis. The only reason he dragged me to that estate in Hatfield, was to compete with my mother’s revelings of Hapsburg society in the usual underhanded way. Being the critical git that I am from my maternal grandfather’s genes, I was not one to buy into any of it. Neither the “Upstairs Downstairs” mentality, nor selective inbreeding in any form despite what promises of higher education and ettiquette for god and country. My Opa taught me that despite all good lessons in honour and self-respect from old Fritz, the monarchy was on its last legs of degeneracy with nothing viable to fill the void that followed. Bismarck, in all his senility, inevitably conceded to Hitler assuming to be the voice of the new generations. He didn’t see the devil in the detail of “Mein Kampf”, let alone just how senselessly life was lost in the megalomania of WWI. As if for god’s will, we’re all just servants to the cause. That seemed to be the bottom line of all that psychosis. The polemic all these people were operating on, even my father in his own twisted way. Don’t let that fool you, my Opa said, listen to your inner voice, question everything. Only you can know and feel what YOU need to survive in this insane world. My Opa was a med A in the Kaiser’s Cavalry. He spent 8 years looking after the inmates of a POW camp in Sarajevo. In that time my Oma filed a divorce that landed my mother in a Catholic orphanage. I remember the horror stories about the brutality of those nuns. She was scarcely reunited with her father a couple of years when the gestapo came around and put him away for refusing to salute Hitler. Like most adolescents without parents, she landed in the military, the Luftwaffe to be precise. She became a flight technician and test flew nearly everything they had. When the Russians invaded that base, she fled with a friend for the American lines. She made the last train out of Dresden before it was bombed flat. Hid out in Prag until the Russians closed that border too. Finally she made it to Frankfurt and worked as a telephone switchboard operator. Her brother finally found her to say that Opa had been freed from prison and given the job as Employment Director in Hameln.

There she worked as the secretary for the British CO and met my father one night. She was driving an APC around the parade square for laughs. My father was immediately impressed. Unfortunately some nazi had it in for women “selling out to the occupation” and tried to kill her. After spending two weeks in a coma from severe cranial fractures and frontal lobe trauma she could only speak English. Everyone tells me it was so gentlemanly of my father to marry her despite the damage, but his story is he desperately wanted out of the barracks. The fact is I was born 6 months later in Fort Erie, Ontario, and he was out of the service until he rejoined four years later. He was in the sheet metal business with his brothers until he got sick of them catering to the New York mafia. Alot of them lived there to evade taxes and launder money at the race track. I’ve seen some of those tacky villas with the fancy aluminum siding, gaslit swimming pools and ugly plastic flamingo figures all over the lawn. Obviously money couldn’t buy them much in the way of aesthetics. People inclined to shun my mother because of her handicap. My father and his brothers only made fun of that while I became a problem child for all the mismanagement. He never did anything to improve her condition, rather saw her as a means of keeping people at a distance. Whatever abuses I suffered from this was irrelevant, as long as people looked away. Of course, when they didn’t it was my fault, so I was pretty well on my own as far as parental guidance was concerned. Still I don’t share his miserable views on life that should belong in a Fellini movie.

What goes around comes around

Back in 2009 I abandoned the UK Pagan community with a few heathen refugees who had found homage on a Ning site more international to our tastes. The problem with UKP turned out to be a cold war between heathens and the OBOD instigated by political elements within those ranks, serving their own secret ends for authority over the whole. The problem with the UK itself has always been its three-state/three-class system, one in which the COE dictates the trend of what has rights and privileges as a religion. It seems the game plan was to eliminate secularism within those ranks and manipulate them into three groups, each with its own moral codex. For the heathens it was the Havamal, a questionable set of ethics that arose at the time of Christianization in Scandinavia. Having been raised on German culture, I especially found the “Reformed Heathen” interpretations of these things, more inclined to rhetorical gospel than cultural consistency. That along with the Wiccan “three-fooled law” (as we call it) being dictated on the overall by OBOD as the only “recognized” “Original British Religion” was extremely fabricated to say the least. The OBOD itself persists in denying the fact that the UK’s megaliths are Neolithic and not Phoenician as they would like to assume. Needless to say, that never did fare well with the authorities of UNESCO who demanded proper archaeology of these sites.

In that time before 2009 I had my own problems between these fronts, being sock puppetted by elements seeking gurudom to satisfy their paedophile exploits. That was also aside some ridiculous witch war between two rivaling covens. Either way, they all seemed to have a real problem with science, much like what you find with any religious fanatics. Their ideas of scientific method was like a throwback to a bad 50s Sci Fi, which probably explains the decadent state of the country’s general education system. By the time the heathens wanted me to join ranks, I was wholly fed up with the circus and wanted to pull the plug. The admins were trying to play me for a scapegoat but I got tired of that charade too. The heathens would not heed my warnings that the coven playing for their allegiance was just a set up. What ensued was as I predicted, but they still wouldn’t listen to reason. Nonetheless it all got blamed on me, but that didn’t really matter. The opposition was obsessed with the idea that I was living in the UK otherwise their conspiracy theory about me wouldn’t make sense. Frankly I was not happy over my heathen colleagues dragging me into this, and to what end? I have no need of religious representation in my country. Neither does the church have political authority here, nor is religion/spirituality seen as anything other than personal choice according to the rights of the individual. Well, since then, most of their heathens have turned nazi, thanks to the “Mein Kampf” polemic of no-minds like Nigel Farage, so I’m done with that lot anyway. They can’t even get it through their heads that I really am a genuine heathen. Proof is in the fact that I pay no church tax. Now why is that?

Still I get the odd gaslighting cryptic comments on my FB posts, as if their stupid rules of political correctness should be the center of my universe. It only goes to show just how insular their mentality is, not even aware that maybe us continentals prefer to differ, even have the laws to protect us in doing so...and then they tell me they weren’t for Brexit. Like who’s kidding who? You lot always thought you were so above everyone else. Sorry, no class system here, so run along you brainwashed numpties and stop echoing the words of your Bojo.