Redeem The Time

If I had to formulate a general mindset that would apply to the largest number of people on earth, it would be:

I don’t want to die, but I wish life was better.

Life is such a fantastic improbability, and yet I don’t think we contemplate it enough in our day-to-day existence. There’s not a word in the English language to adequately describe the phenomenon of life. *Miracle* is probably the best choice we have.

So we have this unbelievable, unfathomable existence. And yet almost all activity in human history seems meaningless.

The world order that has developed over the course of history herds people into material pursuit. Most of our conscious time is spent, on the individual and collective level, in the pursuit of material gain.

Such a base occupation leads to all the individual manias, addictions, neuroses, anxieties, in short, all the psychological maladies that cripple the individual.

It makes sense. Why wouldn’t the grandeur of existence wasted on banality produce mental conflict and mental breakdown?

Eggheads estimate that 117 billion people have lived in the course of human history. How many of those lives weren’t squandered? John the Baptist, Jesus, a handful of artists. Of the great mass of the nameless and faceless, only those who positively engaged in parenting, which is surely a small number. What did the overwhelming majority of people who ever lived accomplish with their unbelievable, unfathomable existence? Nothing of value. They killed time.

The world order was the same 2000 years ago as it is today. The sheeple were the same 2000 years ago as they are today. Time killers. Life squanderers. Jesus was able to mesmerize the people because He showed them a different way, a way to redeem the time, a way to live a life of meaning. Jesus' way turned the world upside down for 300 years until the Archon influenced the power of the world, Constantine, to co-opt it.

Nobody has been able to match Jesus in the last 2000 years, because nobody has offered a new way, they only offer sub-cultures of the world order.

You cannot live in the world order, you can only die. To live you must do what Jesus said, turn your back on the world. You might die of starvation in a week, but at least you will die alive.

Find the way to redeem the time. Don’t die like the herd.

I Pledge Allegiance To Tesla

Can you imagine the mentality of the poor person who accepts the instruction from Trump and Pam Bondi and makes the well-being of Tesla his or her or their concern?

Elon Musk is robbing from tens of millions of the American poor, and yet, because Trump endorses him, the poor make the well-being of the billionaire a personal priority.

Such a person strikes me as awfully pathetic, with an almost unbelievably errant view of their own reality. They have the frame of reference of the penthouse class while living in a trailer park. They think the domestic terrorists are the righteous angry who overturn the Tesla charging stations, and not the filthy rich who steal even what little the poor have.

Though the issue is far more grave, it is easier to understand the misguided thinking of those Americans who support Israel’s mass murder of Palestinians. Americans have been bewitched by generations of heresy from false prophets, and their government has been thoroughly corrupted by the zionist donor class, whereas those American poor who now cherish Tesla have been duped by a couple of second rate carnies.

In any event, we pray for the success of the anti-Musk, anti-Tesla movement. We pray Musk’s wealth and influence evaporate.

In Dreams

We are yanked out of a darkness from God only knows where, and thrown into this life. . .

It takes years to overcome the trauma and accept the life sentence. . .

We remember almost nothing of the horror of earliest life, just fragments of misery. . .certain smells remind us how repulsive the stink of life once was, and how now we barely notice. . .

Shards of memories remain, images of *adults,* those who had assimilated, in acts of torment.

This trauma is easily verified by observing babies and toddlers. . .babies cry at life, while toddlers stare dumb at what fate has presented them.

Around the ages of four to six, the child begins the process of assimilation, and inflicts his or her own pain on the life near him or her, tearing the wings off flies, knocking down smaller children, kicking and flailing at parents.

Life becomes the day-to-day chore of endurance. . .

He who endures to the end shall be saved. . .

He who has faith in the Higher Power who set him here, he who has faith God shall wipe away all tears from his eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away, he who has faith, the same shall be saved.

The only mystery remains at the end of each day. . .

At the end of each Godforsaken day, as we rest from the labor of life, we are dropped into a pool of dreams. . .

Tranxiety

If a man can proclaim himself a Christian, then why not proclaim himself a female?

There is more authority for the man claiming trans than for the faith of Christ, since only Christ can definitively say who is His. . .

Also remember: we know not what the true male or female is, since we have only fallen males and females since Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

Depression

As God decreased, mental illness increased. . .

Man tries to cure it today with chemistry, but chemistry is what set man down the tragic path to illness, mental and physical, when the fruit was eaten.  In fact, it is mental illness that manifests first: note the behaviors from Adam and Eve, particularly the neuroses provoked by nudity. . .

Chemistry cannot cast out chemistry. . .

A more effective approach would be to try to return the individual to an Edenic environment. . .after all, they were cast out of Eden and the environmental degradation further exacerbated their chemical degradation.

Depression, or the more poetic melancholia, is a collapse of the life impulse, the sufferer will yearn for death, due to self-punishment, failure to achieve, either the law or the self (guilt under law, failure of self, both are pure punishment), only Jesus can set the soul free from the law of sin and death. . .

Depression is the healthy, rational reaction of the fall of man to the chemical alteration of being human.  No one can deny that Adam and Eve were less human after the chemical castration of the Tree.  Thus all of modern medicine's attempts to treat depression by chemistry only follows Satan's path to chemically reduce man to an even further fallen state.

The Brown Jug

I was watching The Shining last night. It’s not one of Kubrick‘s better films, and I really don’t think it’s a horror movie, and am always surprised when I see it so highly rated as one of the greatest horror movies of all-time. It’s really more of a family melodrama and a cautionary tale of alcohol. But anyway, there's that scene where Wendy is walking down the hotel hallway and sees in one of the rooms a dude in a bear costume on his knees blowing another dude, and it reminded me of something from long, long ago. Something I hadn’t thought about in decades. Something my first wife told me. This was very, very early in the relationship, months before I stupidly agreed to marry her. I’ve always been very emotionally retarded, very immature, juvenile, a late bloomer, if I ever did bloom, I don’t know. But back then for sure I didn’t have a clue about life, had no idea we could attempt to manage it, or at least direct it towards some outcome that could redeem the time. In His sermon on the mount, Jesus rightfully advised take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. I certainly adhered to that teaching back in the day, but probably not in the correct fashion. For example, Jesus would probably think it’s OK for a person take some thought about who they were going to marry.

Anyway, as I say this was very, very early in our relationship, you know maybe third or fourth date or whatever you want to call it. We were dining in at Taco Bell, eating our tacos and burritos off of plastic trays. In hindsight, I imagine that she, being more mature and knowledgeable about how to conduct a relationship, viewed this as the ‘getting to know each other’ stage. Personally, I’ve never put much stock in that. I’d like to believe what I see is what I get, and if I like what I see I figure I’m gonna like what I get. But anyways, I guess she wanted me to know her, to understand her. So she told me the story about her last boyfriend. The story of the boyfriend whose antics prompted her to enter her lesbian phase, which she, at that point there in Taco Bell, was contemplating leaving for me. We hadn’t had sex at that point. She had been heterosexual until the events I’m about to relate which she related to me that night.

As I said I hadn’t thought of any of this in decades. Probably the last time I thought about it was 25 years or so ago, back when I thought I could salvage the monetary wreck of my life by becoming an author. I was trying to think of material that would make a good short story, and I remembered what my first ex-wife had told me. I never wrote the story because I couldn’t grasp the main character’s psychology, the main character being the last boyfriend of my first ex-wife before she began the lesbian phase of her life.

Anyway, here’s what she told me, and what I remembered for the first time in a long time after watching that scene in The Shining.

She and her boyfriend were living in a ground floor apartment on Oakland Avenue in Ann Arbor. That’s a pretty lively section of student housing on the University of Michigan campus. She had a job as a waitress at The Brown Jug, a popular bar/restaurant. If you happened to be on the Michigan campus back in the early 1990s, you know what kind of wait staff The Brown Jug had. Madonna wouldn’t have been able to get hired, too heavy, not pretty enough. Anyway, my ex-wife left work early that night because she had a migraine. As she was approaching the porch to her apartment house, she saw her front door open and an older male come out, like a late 50s or early 60s male, like even older than her dad. What the fuck? she thought. She couldn’t think of any reason for an old man to be coming out of her apartment.

She said she clearly remembered hoping there would be some benign explanation, but she felt nervous and sweaty as she was about to go in, the feeling of unease on top of her migraine making her feel terribly sick.

Each detail she observed as she stepped into the apartment hit her like a shock wave. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. No matter where she looked, it was like an assault. Everything revolting. Her boyfriend dumbly exclaiming your home?? as he, wearing a pair of pantyhose so small and tight they only reached up to his knees, scrambled off the couch.  A piece of feces dropping from his asshole to the floor. A homosexual orgy playing on the VCR/TV. A pair of her dirty panties that had been in the bedroom and was now laying on the floor. She looked back at her boyfriend. Pantyhose? Where did he get them? She didn’t even wear pantyhose. But there was one of her bras draped over her boyfriend’s chest. As he stumbled past her he stuttered got, got to go, go to bathroom and she saw several large gobs of semen, still wet, sliding down his belly. A little brown bottle on the floor by the sofa. The boyfriend coming out of the bathroom nude, with most but not all of the semen wiped off his stomach. The boyfriend rushing into the bedroom and pulling on a pair of sweatpants.  By now she was so sick, so stressed out she could barely stand up. She went into the bedroom and laid down.  The boyfriend tried to talk to her.  She told him to be quiet, her head was killing her, could he please just get the shit off the living room floor and let her sleep.

I said oh my God in a half laugh a couple times when she was recounting this incident, and I could see that this was off-putting, but I have never been one to pretend or try to react so-called ‘appropriately.’

Anyway, my first ex-wife said the boyfriend never admitted anything.  Ever.  An older male in the house?  No!  Homosexual pornography?  What?? No!  She broke up with him a day later.

A couple months later my ex-wife hooked up with Sharri who was also a waitress at The Brown Jug, and began her lesbian phase.  Sharri's brother worked with me at a store on the campus. One day Sharri and my ex-wife came in to see Sharri's brother. We all ended up at Pinball Pete's later that night. And that was the beginning of that.  My first ex-wife and I got married before she even graduated college. Ridiculous. Her family couldn’t stand me. For good reason, I guess. I was going nowhere. They probably wondered what she was even doing with me. But I have always been able to make girls laugh and I do whatever they say. That can carry you a long ways. 

Well, now that I think even more about the past, I don't always do what they say.  That was the beginning of the end for me and my first ex-wife, me not doing something she wanted, as that memory now comes back.  Shit comes full circle or whatever.  Maybe I'll write that up for tomorrow. 

For This He Is Shamed?

There’s a lot of crazy shit that goes on that most people seem to act surprised about when they find out.  Even people who are involved in crazy shit act surprised when other people involved in crazy shit get caught.

The story like the one pictured above, it’s easy to act superior and point a finger and laugh, Hell, that's usually how I react. But the older I get, the less inclined I am to do it, and when I do it, the malicious joy is much more short-lived.

Let’s be honest, people have very little self-control. And very little control of their desires. I mean, we have a degree of self-control, otherwise the *real world* would be live action PornHub.  But our minds are a beehive of aberrant thought that we can barely hold back, like a serial killer who satiates his blood lust and is able to maintain a relative control for a few weeks or months until the lust boils over again. Well, that’s how we all are with our own little manias. So this poor sucker in Minnesota got caught. And his discovery will upset his life and his family‘s life. He brought it on himself, yes. But haven’t we all?

I’ve written, in story form, some of the worst things I’ve done.  Written it either 100% truthful, or with exaggeration or diminishment, but always accurate enough to present personal failure. But the absolute worst things I have ever done, I leave that shame to rot in the cesspool of my memory. 

But it is interesting to me, all the things that we hide from shame. And yet the absolute worst, most horrible filthy degenerate deeds, such as the current Israeli carnage in Gaza, there’s no shame at all.  They are discussed very matter-of-factly, with no shock or surprise that it is taking place. What an insane world.

Given the fellow from Minnesota's political and personal profile, it's probably a good guess he is a zealous supporter of Israel. And he had no shame about that, nor brought any shame upon his family. But now that he is caught trying to fuck an imaginary girl, he is cast out.

This is the Age of Confused Ideas.  Nobody can correctly identify anything, from their own gender to genocide.

There is no authentic righteousness in the world. The world is an insane asylum.  Almost all human behavior is abnormal. Abnormal from what most people generally agree would be theoretical decent civilized human conduct. Why callest thou Me good? There is none good but one, that is, God.