Believing birds aren’t real and are dangerous and that they are watching you may seem ridiculous to someone in New York or Chicago but it makes total sense to teach your children that if you live in Yemen and are part of the wrong ethnic group.
Suddenly teaching children that the small bird looking things in the sky aren’t real birds and that they are dangerous seems like a reasonable thing to teach. Certainly better to explain that to children than that the first African American president droned more people than the war-mongering Dwight Man before him.
“The Doctor Crisis” we call it. A shortage of doctors and medical staff. This happening at a time when a significant number were fired and an entire several-years of healthcare graduates pursuing this as a career were forced to quit this career path due to the vaccination.
A manufactured plandemic plus a reduction in healthcare options equals a slow steady decline in population. Hundreds of millions of people with chronic medical conditions not being able to get even basic treatments or medications. Food prices go through the roof, jobs disappearing, and a goofy blackface-wearing pussy at the reigns. I can’t stand this horse-cockery any further.
One surefire way that we know corruption happens is the slow beauracracy of government. They slowly bleed you dry in your kangaroo trial and delay the process of your appeal until you’re starved and forced to plan an earlier exit than you had intended to maintain any semblance of control over your destiny if they ever try come for you again.
Genocide takes many forms. Holodomor was the name given to genocide by famine. Holocaust, a genocide of all but one particular ethnic group deemed above the lesser-peoples. What is the name we will come up with for setting up a structure in which systemic denial of healthcare can be used to cull the population? Canada has death panels. We don’t call them that, but in Canada – almost anything in this whole entire world that has to do with creating or ending a life can be executed with the John Hancock of the nearest Dee R.
That’s all the Nazi’s did. It was just paperwork. Formalities. It was gradual. Define a lesser class, point at them. Scapegoat them. Poke them. Segregate them. Make decisions that are detrimental to them in the background. Deny deny deny.
These fucking swine want you to die.
The big-sick-19 was to kill the generally sick, weak, and old. Step 1. For the rest of us it’s social control, social control, social control. Evenly spaced. Masked when asked. Carrying your papers. Consenting to extra checks. Compulsory medical treatment. Be a good citizen and stand for the special song while the lovechild of Fidel Castro and Mrs. Trudeau cucks for China.
With-holding medical treatment is one method of euthanasia (Medically Assisted Dying). This is a generally accepted method of medically assisted death – stopping food and medical treatment. Is it not the same when a government sets up a healthcare system so incompetent that the doctors in charge can plead ignorance while completely preventing anyone at all from accessing anything except emergency medicine. It’s just too busy. We don’t have enough staff. It’s not our fault.
You fucking swine.
In a world where I can go on Fiverr and get blueprints for a home or a website built or a brochure made for next to no-cost from some guy from another country whose labour is less expensive than ours – how can we have a doctors recruitment crisis in Canada when we have the biggest erections in the world for immigrants coming here that will vote for Trudeau but for some reason we’re not head-hunting every fucking doctor in South-Asia. Why not? Throw money at them.
The doctor crisis is a manufactured crisis. This is one situation where one could definitely throw money at the manpower problem but they choose not to.
We don’t live in a real place, with real laws, or real institutions to enforce these laws. It’s all fugazi. It’s pretend. It’s an illusion and a show; a piece of live theatre. The cast appreciates your patronage at their show. You paid for it, after all.
It’s small details like the disrespect of our flag that weaken our society and allow cowards and crooks to run things.
Respect for the flag is symbolic of respect for the Charter of Rights and Freedoms we are SUPPOSED to have.
I made this exact comment to the New Glasgow Police during my filing of complaints about their false arrest of me. I made a deliberate comment to the officer taking the paperwork that it’s disrespectful to have a dirty tattered flag infront of the police station. I’ve referred to corrupt officers in our town wearing that same flag and tarnishing it with their horsecockery and lack of ethics.
Same concept. Disrespect for the flag by people in charge of shaping society and running it demonstrates a lack of understanding and respect for the underlying values we are supposed to have.
Not saying Canada/church didn’t wreck indigenous families or do other horrible shit. What I’m saying is that in our country we have the ability to stand there and protest and hold politicians accountable in ways that aren’t possible in lots of places. THAT is one reason this matters.
Most corruption in our country and community is simply buried in beauracracy. Too much paperwork and cost to get the truth out.
If we had teachers and police and lawyers and social workers and doctors that truly understood what our rights are – the tattered flags wouldn’t need reminders. This is basic elementary school social studies.
That flag wasn’t made at the founding of the country so it’s not symbolic of the colonial torture. Flag was designed and agreed upon by Canadians in the 60s. Our Charter of Rights and Freedoms was established in the 80s.
The flag is symbolic in our shift toward better values. Doesn’t make up for 60s scoop or residential schools or the forced sterilizations or forced covid vaccinations or the invocation of the Emergencies Act by little-Castro… come to think of it, the Trudeaus did all of the short list above.
Papa Pierre was the 15th prime minister of Canada from 1968 to 1979 and from 1980 to 1984. He also briefly served as the leader of the Opposition from 1979 to 1980.
Look up “The Kitchen Accord”. That involves a Canadian lawyer and politician who served as the 20th prime minister of Canada from 1993 to 2003. That PM was Jean Cretien. Cretien is responsible for the notwithstanding clause. One of my conspiracy theories is that Elder Trudeau actually so wanted the notwithstanding clause but couldn’t support it publicly.
In a nutshell – some Charter rights are subject to the notwithstanding clause (section 33).
Between when the flag was made and the Charter was made law there were 17 years, of that time Papa Trudeau was PM for 11 years.
Between when the charter was codified into law and now we are looking at 40 years.
In that time-frame, the PM was either a Trudeau or a Chretien for 19 of the 40 years since the Charter was made law.
That means the same small group of insiders gave us the illusion of rights with a caveat they can make up reasons to strip you of them.
Our flag was made before our Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
The Charter is there to protect us but the same family / clubs in power now in Canada set things up this way. As long as they have ‘zee papers’ filled out properly, they can do anything they want. It doesn’t matter if the judge or politician approving the override of your rights just came out of a closed door meeting with the person asking them to do so (re: conduct of PM Trudeau 2 in regard to Jodi Wilson Raybould and SNC Lavalin / deferred prosecution).
It’s all fugazi.
TLDR: Anyone who disagrees with OP better come back with a valid criticism of the government instead of a lazy empty response like “It’s just a piece of fabric!!!”.
Someone commented with a photo of the Nova Scotian flag – solid. Agree. Great counter, even if sarcastic. Valid point. Our government is fugazi and our rights are pretend. Our current flag represents the rights we had before the Trudeaus and their old boys club gave us the illusion of more rights with a caveat they can disappear them when they feel like it.
Oppression is done in our country through slow painful expensive beauracracy.
Impossible. At some point after so much torture – one has no good thoughts left. Any words left are seldom good. Deeds are of necessity and never pleasure. Good and bad are relative terms to a beaten down dejected individual.
This pessimistic conclusion goes against the way I had chosen to live my life up until recently. How does one combat evil force without using force to repel? In instances of battle; equitable acts of evil between warring parties are noble if done with a pure and good intent – but they still haunt the doer if he’s good inside. No pleasure is taken in attacking.
Pleasure is in peace and harmony.
If necessary, sometimes good men must act evil to protect the peace and harmony of themselves and their people.
When a predatory evil doer infects the thoughts and life of a good human; is there some balancing force somewhere that equalizes things and protects the good? At one time I had deep faith in this; but the older I get – the less I feel protected by the human systems that feign basic protections that are hardly delivered to the funding-class.
Our spirits can be infected by the evil. It will beat you and slap you and stone you.
Being taught to turn the other cheek has a limit. I turned the other cheek and it ruined my life.
Instead of the abundance of good; that perpetual good vibe upon which I lived – I find myself in the darkest of passageways – wishing anguish and destruction on those that stole my youth.
My body is aging rapidly and falling to pieces; those small drips of things other than pain that once provided an occasional sustenance; the periodic plateau and rest of momentary pleasure or respite; are fewer and further between.
I love being a father. Period. Despite the near constant physical pain I am in – seeing her smile and achieve things that make her proud makes every bit of work worth it.
Unfortunately, an exceedingly elusive feeling is that of a benevolent outlook on my fellow creatures.
As I observe the world around me; it would appear that not only has my micro-life disintegrated on the evil wishes of a select few awful people – subtly influencing me in destructive ways – but even coming out on top in the situation still leaves my child harmed by people that are supposed to care for us and especially her.
My chosen truth of so many years that ‘Man is Good and Just’ shattered by so few individuals, so quickly.
Not only has the micro-world around me shattered alongside the rose-colored glasses through-which I viewed my past – the larger macrocosm has taken such a dark dystopian turn that the only real vestige of faith or hope I can muster is that in some way or type or place we really are in a simulation of sorts and that the soul is immortal; that no matter what happens – at some inevitable juncture the lights will suddenly turn on and the DJ will halt the music with a scratch as a benevolent wizard stumbles out from behind the emerald curtain to reveal how all the plotlines weave together and beautifully display the poetic ways in which justice shall be served.
Here’s the difference between me and you, mystery stalker – you’re weak. Thats why you take so ruthlessly of others.
I’ve lived more genuinely and joyfully despite the shade thrown at us.
Kick all you want, you can’t kill the spark.
That’s all I needed.
Just a spark.
Then I took a calm deep breath and uttered a few simple words of truth; burning your House of Swords to ashes.
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To be clear:
People are allowed to be odd.
If I could paint the neat shit I think about, I would. But I prefer bang out word sounds.
“Mafioso,” she says as we adjust our clothing; gesturing at Diablo who spies us arm in arm. Her smile was intoxicating but the next day I saw that same gaze pouring into the eyes of a young linebacker-looking American as I made my first walk around the block.
Our eyes meet and we grin. I turn right and grab some fries at the restaurant that was without any doors immediately around the corner. There are several pairs of shotgun-wielding police in the area – just chillin’.
Skin for sale everywhere.
Half a decade after my research, I find an article written in Spanish exactly a year after I wrote those first parts of this story. An article in which a former-CIA agent retraced my steps in Sosua, found Diablo, and rescued 23 trafficked girls.
Probably just a coincidence.
The girls do it too. The pimping.
I saw a concerted effort by the older better dressed women to protect the younger girls from the likes of Diablo and presumably the likes of mysterious foreigners such as myself. They still plied the trade and taught the younger ones. Encouraged? I believe not. Accepted their situation, sure.
The girls all stuck together; recognizing the objectified, targeted, misogynistic niche in which they existed.
The subject of my interview that day tried to sell me a person that was clearly not old enough to be willingly choosing such a profession in any society. Close. But definitely not.
That being said – it appeared as though it was routine for everyone.
The way everyone gets paid is that the hourly hotels above the bars only accept local currency and the currency exchange was run by the mafioso.
All of the beach vendors and tips are paid in USD; who then exchange that cash quickly and easily and cheaply at small local roadside shops.
Suppose extraterrestrials have visited since we humans evolved. It makes sense, really. They being able to travel so aeronautically impossibly dictates a higher order of tech that must presume to be older than us.
Whether or not they had a hand in our creation is beside the point; they certainly affected our cultures at a minimum as an ancient cargo cult.
It’s the height of human hubris to assume we are the primary object of curiosity on this planet. These ships have been reported traversing into and through water as warm and buttery as they shift through the air and into space.
The STS-75 Tether incident is not a video found easily online anymore; the above slice of newsfeed from AP is about it. The hundreds of ships are called debris. Those things are intelligently piloted. That broken tether is miles long; how large does it make those perfect circles? Some of those perfect circles flash like a moody octopus.
Perhaps earths’ sea creatures are more interesting and unpredictable than us to the otherworldly observers. Given that we know more about space than we do our own oceans; perhaps the visitors have found the impassable depths of our oceans to be more fascinating than the highest peaks and our most innovative forms of art and technology, terra firma.
Surely, we have found stranger things in our oceans than we have on land or in space. Odder, scarier, more fascinating and unfathomable forms of life exist in our oceans at different depths and pressures; even in volcanoes and extreme anerobic or arsenic based environments; than we have ever confirmed on land or in space.
Perhaps life is as rare as we have always collectively thought it is; and our Earth fascinates the heck out of other advanced life-forms.
Maybe they made us and that’s God… or maybe we all evolved the initial spark of life independently and that’s why the abundance and variety of life on earth intrigues them so; as it certainly would us if we found ourselves in their proverbial shoes.
Such an understatement to refer to Earth as an ant farm.
More-so a multi-level community combination aquarium-terrarium freak-show mosaic displayed in a magnetic spherical gaseous fishbowl that post-1800 moonlights as a certifiably delusional chain-smoking composter.
Fascinating stuff. Huge ratings. Yuge ratings!
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Interesting Relevant Videos
This conference happened on May 9th, 2001 – discussing trillions of dollars in black budget UFO projects and disclosures by military officials about our relationships with extraterrestrials.
On September 10, 2001; US Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld announced trillions of missing dollars from the Pentagon.
The next day, September 11th of 2001, something huge happened where all the evidence was destroyed at the Pentagon and everyone forgot about the trillions of dollars missing. In turn they signed a blank check to the military industrial complex; directed by former Haliburton CEO and US Vice President at the time, Richard Cheney; that enabled two more decades of unaccounted-for spending.
A few of the groups tried traditional pest control measures. Exponentially more poison was required in relation to the increase in size of these creatures. As we watched the proceeding generations pass in the hereafter – the stratagems that evolved were worthy of any of the visual media that the other planets so readily consume.
Poison was not one of the more successful means of fighting the beasts as the poison killed us as well. The concentrations in the old days were so small that the human cancers and adjacent strange ailments took years to form and the corporate masters that poisoned our meat suits profited greatly.
These ants, too, profit greatly and soullessly and greedily.
The poisons did not work. Naturally the first line of defense for many of the human nations was small arms. Rifles had no effect. Small explosive rounds, sure. One RPG round per beast is great in the forest but what about when the hive wakes and the hill comes up-on-and-over the hill?
It was enough to injure one or three and get away; the quieter the better. Though they cannot hear; vibrations were something they picked up.
The war-swords of old and the forethought weapons of a zombie apocalypse were the ideal means of defense in many intimate situations with many of the ants. Again… it varied so much. If you take out a leg or two of a bigger one; or one of it’s essential functions like it’s eye – it will attack briefly and then recoil in horror.
It’s all pissing in the wind anyway. Anything beyond daily survival was as uncertain at bed-rest as it was if you even woke up.
We learned to love and cherish our fellow human sisters and brothers, though. Goodness, did we ever latch onto one another at the end. Perhaps things could have turned out better if we had embraced the unity much earlier.
The conspiracy nutters early on felt the six-foot social distancing was for military order. A few had the right idea with facial recognition. More accurate it was ocular scanning at a distance. Early iris scanners were tested on the Afghan and Iraqi civilians that we hired for work on the bases in their respective locales.
Before we had iphones; the technology to climb into someones eyes with a large clunky but single-contractor operated retinal scanner was advanced enough in ’08 to render identification that a photo-less paper-text taskira was satisfactory carried paperwork for the local even though the Canadian contractor manning the cage scanner doesn’t speak Pashto and the local hadn’t a photo. Some fucking glad I worked a safe 30 feet away in a paper-thin shipping container office where two Afghan National Police rolled up one day un-escorted and we gave them water. They had RPGs and a machine gun. Spoke no English. We gave them some water and granola bars. Took a few pictures. Come to think of it; that may have been one of the first times I died.
Decades later we find ourselves in masks; afraid of that which would drown us from the inside out; spaced evenly; retinas and perhaps brains scanned from afar as the rectangle covering our mouths helps the scanner find our eyes to identify the person and their fears.
In the days of industry; there were times when research suggested whales and other sea creatures were affected by our sonar; by our boats; by our poisons; by us.
Now in the ant-times we find that all of these little pieces of technology that we implanted inside of us act as a honing device for those that it does not repel.
A great number of rebels were Luddites long before the ants took over. Many of those that survived the pestilence; and then the bombs; and then the ants; were those that believed in older ways. They were often the people that could not afford all of the implantable upgrades that those in wealthier societies received. The tribesmen of isolate villages the world-round had a great shot in some instances. Armed American “prepper” folk; provided they weren’t religiously motivated; came together and found comfort in those core values that shaped some parts of that former nation.
As we learned in the hereafter – the ants taste the radio-vibes of our robot parts; and the flavor is bolder with every piece of metal we put in our body. Doubly for the gold-plated antennae of contemporary bio-metric society at the peak of humanity’s collapse.
Nukes of Knowledge 