Obedience To Authority

obedience

This video is an experiment in psychology, a test and revelation as to how often a man will give up his free mind to take on the perverted mind of another for no reason other than he deems the other to be an authority and he won’t get blamed for following his orders.

It seems the word ‘sheeple’ is not just derogatory slang, it is an absolute fact that many among us would rather be told what to do instead of having to take responsibility for doing anything ourselves.

Sad . . . I believe this phenomena is the root cause of why we are in the current position we are in . . . and why it will be impossible to extricate ourselves from the consequence. Nothing changes for us until we mature enough to take back control of our mental facilities.

As is, we will continue handing our children over to the Gods of war, giving our allegiance to  charlatans and fakes . . . worshiping things we are told to worship, eat the shit we are given without complaint, etc. . . . all out of ignorance, laziness, and so called patriotic duty.  We should be ashamed of ourselves for being led around by the nose by these sociopaths and fanatics running this country.

We may have been taught this is the greatest country in the world, that we have been blessed by the Gods who keep us well fed and living in luxury, BUT while we are living large, at least half of the inhabitants on this planet go to bed at night IGNORED and starving. We inherently know better, but we justify all this by following orders and blaming others for their predicament. . . .

Time to truly wake up and quit pretending to be ‘awakened’.  It ain’t what you KNOW, it’s all about what you ARE.

Who, what, why, are YOU? . . . It’s in your mind, hiding, probably buried under a ton of bullshit you have been taught to believe, but it’s there, patiently awaiting your attention.

 

The Projects

As a kid I was quiet, withdrawn, and mostly an observer not particularly liking what I saw taking place in my immediate family. Actually, life with mom, pop and my nasty sister was a totally dysfunctional mess. For all intent and purposes I feel I could have been raised by wolves.

I like to say that when I was grown high enough to reach the door knob of our small apartment I was out and gone, escaping into the magical kingdom of the projects, and that is pretty much what happened. 

The Mellet Homes housing project was built smack dab in the middle of Ozzie and Harriet’s middle class America by the U.S. government to house the influx of workers needed to man the local factories and steel mills gone full bore into the war effort. Each barracks type building, containing six small apartments, was packed closely together onto a thirty five or so acre tract of land.

It was a noisy place full of clothes lines, screaming kids, crying babies, and cars. A distinct perimeter existed between ‘us’ poor folks and ‘them’ rich folks. We even had our own school for awhile cause they wanted to keep us riff-raff segregated from Harriet’s little darlings.

I can only imagine how happy she was to see a slum arising in the midst of her beloved neighborhood, but what the hell, the war was on and everybody had to sacrifice a bit for the cause. Ozzie went off to kill Germans while Harriet stayed home and tended her victory garden. And when the vegetables were ripe, project kids stole and ate them.

The project was a great place to grow up. We played Cowboys and Indians with enough kids to field two armies. We played War and Kick the Can well into the night without the thought of perverts or gun slingers. We played football, baseball, basketball. We fought bare knuckled when we were mad, boxed with the gloves on when we weren’t. We wrestled in the mud in the rain. We played doctor with the girls in the woods by day and used their cover by night as a staging area for vandal raids onto Ozzie and Harriet’s turf.

We lived under a pecking order where everybody knew their place. If we messed with the older kids we got beat up. All the adults looked out for us and didn’t mind giving us a slap when we deserved it either.

There were no knives, guns, drugs or any of that stuff. The men would occasionally get drunk and get into fist fights, but no one ever got killed. The women would get into shouting matches sometimes, but all that noise just added a minor chord that made the melody all the more interesting.

Nobody got much for Christmas in the projects, so we would get up Christmas morning, see what we got and go around to all our friends places to barter and exchange until we ended up with something we wanted. ( I’m sure Tommy always kept his pair of socks) Man, we had it all and were living the dream. We were happy cause nobody ever told us how poor we were.

The projects was always a bee hive of activity. I remember when the ice man would deliver large blocks of ice by hand to feed our refrigerator.

I remember the rag man with his cart walking down the street yelling, “Rag man!…….Rag man!” and people would come to buy a clean one or drop their dirty rags in his cart.

I remember when the milk man would come and deliver milk. Us kids would steal orange drink out of the ice bin in the back of his truck while he did it. We’d also ride our bikes alongside a pop truck and help ourselves to a Coke when ever we saw it coming. He’d stop and yell, but he could never catch us.

Nobody had a TV in those days so we used to listen to movies on the radio. Amos and Andy was my favorite, and who could forget The Shadow. When TV came out there was only one family in the whole projects who could afford one. Us kids would gather quietly around their living room window after dark while old man Bear and his wife sat on the couch on the inside, and watch our favorite show Lights Out with them. Wonder if they knew we were even there? Can you imagine that happening today? We would have set off an alarm the minute we bent a blade of his fake grass in today’s world.

I think I was about nine when mom finally bought me a TV. I still remember coming home one evening from the YMCA (where I practically lived) and seeing Sgt. Preston of the Royal Canadian Police playing in my living room . . . WOW one of the happiest days in my life to that point.

In the projects the walls were so thin that if the guy next door sneezed you could hear it. We had these medicine cabinets in the bath room with a slot in them where you dropped razor blades after they were used up. Well, if you looked into the slot and the person in the other apartment had their cabinet door open you could see into their bathroom. Robyn, my girl friend, would accidentally on purpose leave her door open when she took a bath. I would turn out the light on my side and open the door to watch her. Really exciting voyeurism for a guy my age. Ha! I still remember that stuff . . .Robyn I still love you, wherever you are!

I moved from the projects one cold, windy day in the winter of 1957 with tears streaming down my cheeks. I was forced to leave Berry Davis, the love of my life, and my many friends. I was a very unhappy camper when my mom got remarried and forced me to move. The one place where I could feel at home in those days was in the projects among my friends.

The projects were in existence until 1965 or so when they were torn down to make room for a shopping center and a parking lot. The new Walmart now sits directly on top of the spot where I once lived, kinda poetic justice I suppose since I had practically made a career out of stealing from those kind of stores. In the end we all lose. I lost big time the day my mom made me leave the projects and move onto Ozzie and Harriet’s turf.

Male Dominance?

I watched the video . . . it’s such a mixture of Bernay’s PR that it is IMO just another advertisement promoting the biblical concept that God covers man – man covers woman theory . . . fact is men ARE physically stronger (in most cases) Men ARE the dominate of the human species because of it. . . but when it comes to intelligence/artistic/ inventive, etc. . . . that is bullshit to the max. . . .

All we need to do is look around at today’s world and see what male dominance has accomplished and it is easier to read than a child’s primmer that the man mentality is floundering. . . fact is we men need to drop the God ordained bullshit and allow the playing field to level because if we don’t . . . (my prediction)

One day in the future after the macho economic/physical wars are over and the planet is in shambles the time of the woman will come and we men will be relegated to sperm donors and physical laborers in a brand new world run by woman . . .

Because I have learned in my life never to underestimate women hood . . . we stumble over our own pecker every time we do . . . they got us by the balls boys and we better start playing fair or else.

Fantasy Land (part two)

Love is the singularity . . . it (God) exists outside the boundaries of duality, therefore there is no good or bad love, it IS the single focal point of all matter, it is the reality behind all creative process. . . . We, (the creators in this physical dimension) though connected to the singularity, build our corporate, as well as individual lives exclusively within the law of duality and get to experience first hand the reality of our creations . . . how are we doing?

We can drop all the spiritual jargon and judge our own creating by the simple approach of lining our creation(s) up against the law of love. Ask ourselves as a person a few simple questions like:

“Am I being kind and generous or am I being a self serving asshole?” . . .

“Do I continually and constantly blame others for my shortcomings?” . . .

“Do I really care or is this a good ploy to get my own way again?” . . .

Ask ourselves corporately as a part of the larger whole a few simple questions like:

“Is it even possible to kill for peace?”

“Is factory farming really worth it?”

“Are we really caretakers of this planet or is this massive ecological destruction we are causing just the result of good business practice?”

Those questions are just an example. Ask yourself your own questions, meditate upon them and you will learn quite easily if you are, or are not, moving in love, mercy, and grace.

You may learn WHY you have acquired so much karmic debt . . . and WHY you are always behind the proverbial eight ball.

Maybe if you quit justifying your eating, and thinking, and doing habits and take positive action instead to put an end to them . . . maybe the depression will withdraw and the fibromyalgia will go away and your joy as well as your health will return.

Can’t hurt to try . . . right?