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.

Lost Raiders of the Causality Curve

Back in my previous life I knew a guy who was the German translator for the Brigade HQ. An old school Nazi, always referring to his clients as “these Ausländers” whenever we crossed paths, then would start onto me. Naturally my response was “Fuck you Muhlenschulte you Nazi piece of shit”. He had no idea of my family’s legacy, nor did I care to discuss it with him.

I have a friend named Tommy who used to be the proprietor of the popular record store in town, called “Die Schallplatte”. The shop was next door to the old shoemaker and a small white Bistro on the corner, called the “Wolkenkratzer”. We still see each other now and then, as it is we live in the same village. Back then we used to meet at the “Adler Klause” (some country and western bar) on Friday nights to watch the floor show, namely drunken 4 Service guys doing god knows what they were trying to prove. It was great entertainment. Well, Tommy asked me if I knew a guy named Muhlenschulte. I laughed and replied, “Yeah I know that psycho. I don’t know what it is about people that work there too long but they’re all totally mental.”
“They’re all like that?” he asked amazed.
“Unfortunately, each in their own deranged way, but don’t ask me why. I like to keep my private life far away from there, the further, the better.”
”Good god, even working with that lot would be too much for me.”
”No worries, be just as crazy or paranoid as them and they won’t suspect a thing”.
We laughed wholeheartedly, then Tommy proceeded to relate his encounter with the notorious one.

Muhlenschulte had invited him to his apartment for coffee and cake. The first thing that struck Tommy was a huge poster of Hitler above the stack of stereo equipment. As if this wasn’t despairing enough, that huge top-grade sound system was solely there to listen to endless Hitler speeches.
“Oh boy, I imagine you didn’t stick around for long”
“Yeah, looked at my watch and said something about an appointment I had completely forgot”

Well, years later after the crazies all left, there’s Muhlenschulte in our Legion branch acting like the last true Canadian on earth. He tries to engage me with the question if I’ll ever return. “Return where?” I queried back, “I’m a German citizen”. He looks at me shocked, then says, “but I thought you were such a devout and patriotic Canadian”. I looked at him with a smirk, “Maybe what you thought, but I don’t recall you ever asking. As for back, my family’s here. My father is British. His father ran away from Hatfield because he wanted no part of the Cecil legacy. My mother is from Selesia. Her home no longer exists and I never had one, so I guess this discussion has ended.”
Yes, I never saw him again after that. Which is just as well.

The other Nazi nuisance was Partenheimer, always on my case about some political thing or another. What a fit he’d have when I get myself a Kebap at the local Turks. It wouldn’t matter how many times I told him to go fuck himself, that these were friends with all due mutual respect. It would really burn him up when we gathered over a samovar of tea to discuss what the town was up to. I really don’t see what this jerk’s obsession was with me, but I was glad when I no longer had to deal with the legion, leaving his lot stuck in some delusional no-man’s land between here and nigh. Perhaps enjoyed too much privilege in their elitist diplomatic status, that they had to keep up the stigma with pathetic shit like the Canada House and the Old Bastards Club. Man, isn't life a bitch when you've run out of peons? Sometimes it amazes me what people like that try to project, like I'm just some extension of their obvious tunnel vision. Well, they're probably all gone down that tunnel now, so it's not like I really missed anything.

To See or Not to See

I don’t doubt that this world has had the odd discrete visitations, but the story of the Grays I don’t buy as extraterrestrial. There are two problems with this issue, one is covert experiments with implanting false memories through drug induced hypnosis. I know this first hand from an aforementioned acquaintance I had known since 1968 and her involvement with NICAP. As I've said before, Dr. Jacques Vallee was the expert Astrophysicist assigned to explore these  these abduction scenarios, only to find  that the majority were either hypnotically or psychosomatically induced, lacking physical evidence of anything significantly alien. There had also been complaints by other investigative bodies that covert agencies were also trying to exploit their contactees in this way. Needless to say, Dr. Vallee brought this to the table at the 1977 symposium in Geneva, much to the dismay of J. Allen Hynek. Since then, using hypnosis is no longer considered a valid means of obtaining details, regardless whether the experience was real or not. With the way the human mind is wired, it all inclines to be easily suggestive (Mandela effect). Nonetheless, I see the alien ruse as a clever way of false flagging quite earthly controversial research being advanced in secret. In this regard I’m sure conspiracy theories also have their convenience of diversion.


The second problem is the assumption that these CEs are extraterrestrial. Here again I side with Dr. Vallée’s conclusion that these creatures are gene-manipulated throw-backś from a parallel future. In the rare cases of actual CE3s, DNA samples have revealed evidence of such genetic engineering yet no trace of anything extraterrestrial in the mix (and that includes anything microbiologically relevant to such a creature and its living/working space). I find this hypothesis also makes sense with the long human history of similar abduction and loss of time scenarios in countless cultures of the past. However, that does not say that human invention back then was incapable of it’s own artistic license. These days science is discovering that time travel is certainly easier to venture than crossing the eternal void of space and its inhospitable conditions.


Aside from all this, strange lights in the sky do not mystify me. Having always had a fascination for geophysical phenomena, I am not only familiar with their wide variety of characteristics but also understand the physics of it. Particularly interesting is the behaviour of ion plasma in the atmosphere as well as on the surface. While its size and shape can vary with the quasi-hydrostatic conditions, its behaviour is not unlike what pilots have described of their encounters with the unknown. Hence, knowing their quantum nature, I would not be so foolish to pursue such a thing, especially with today’s micro-electronics. Now having said that, do not try to approach me with the subject unless you’re prepared for one hell of an argument over the nature of strange forces in extreme quasi-hydrostatic conditions. To me the Bermuda Triangle is merely the mother of all transcendental phase states like any huge body of complex tidal forces. These are things that fascinate me more than others' paranoid euphoria for mystery like it's a new kind of drug (or religion for that matter).