CHARLIE KIRK MARTYRED

 

He was only 31.

There is now a widow,

a fatherless one-year-old boy 

and three-year-old girl.

When an extraordinary human being walks among us, we barely notice it for a very long time.

Especially someone in politics, which is so rife with reprobates, phonies, narcissists and psychopaths.  Or the tools of the above.

By their Energy thou shalt know them.

By their Deeds.  By their Effect on others.

The last time I wept over someone's passing, someone I didn't know but who felt so close, was Lady Diana Spencer in 1997.

I did not even follow Charlie Kirk's podcasts, I only listened to them occasionally.  U.S. politics is just too heavy and labyrinthine... and dark.  But when I heard he had been killed, I felt shock.  When I saw the video of him falling, his carotid artery burst,  his life blood splashed out, the crowds stampeding in horror and terror...  it was 1963 again, I was eight years old again, standing in the living room of our modest house in Project 6, and hearing that JFK was dead, and later watching the funeral march, those drums beating heavy, his saddled horse with the empty riding boots set backwards in the stirrups.

Why does this world unfailingly kill the good?

Because this world is ruled from the shadows by the Evil.

It isn't coincidence, tragedy, bad luck, the roll of the dice, a bad hand.  The luck of the draw.

It's the sheep farm, the owners in the Big House, the rabid dogs, the overseers pushing the flock hither and thither.  Any unmanageable sheep gets taken out of the pen and sacrificed.

Everything else was, has always been, Literature.  Grimm's Fairy Tales.  

If you go out there into the World, and you start drawing people to you, and you bring a message of unity, love, solidarity, brotherhood, communication, a vision of a better world...

...they are coming after you.  They've got a tool kit that you wouldn't believe.  They've got everything covered.

I am old now.  I don't have any blinkers on anymore.  I'm wise to the tool kit.  To the Literature and Fairy Tales.

For this reason, the sooner they bump me off, the better.  They've shut me up, cut off my income, got me boycotted.  My tracks will only be faint ones after I leave this physical vehicle.  

But they can't eliminate the millions who found Charlie, and to whom he brought light in their darkness.  

They have already sterilized millions of young people so they can't procreate.  But there are many millions still left.  Their own pratfalls are tripping the wake-up switches.

And they will lose.  They kept us asleep for millenia.  But there were always more of us and fewer and fewer of them.  They couldn't keep us asleep forever.  They've resorted to invisible sheep pens, invisible rabid dogs and psychotic overseers.  They're putting robots in place, we are stuck to our own surveillance devices, addicted to our phones and screens.

However, there are Bigger Players involved here.  We're just Bit Players... yet we're still here, and the new versions of us are under every rock now, behind the wood panelling.  Internet is a new level of consciousness:  planetary.  Yeah, they've been stuffing it with porn, with disinfo, with every inconceivable black magic and demonic spellwork.  

It had to be intense.  It had to be exciting.  It had to have lots of defeats, victories...  more defeats and more victories...

We´re not there yet.  We're still half inside the virtual sheep pen, and the ones that get out are still getting torn to pieces and served up as dead meat.

But we are not quite the same-old sheep.  We're not distracted like we used to be.  We've heard that death doesn't really exist.

Also, we've got memory, this time around.  They haven't had time to memory-swipe us all.

Unbelievably, as well, we've gotten smarter.

They haven't changed, though.  

We have.

Even their own are sick of them.

They are increasingly visible and increasingly isolated.

Because --- you know what?   Nothing stays the same.

Nothing.

But because they cannot change, they will get changed out of the ridiculous, pathetic, macabre, same-old same-old dog-and-pony show they'd condemned us to watch and act in forever.

No doubt some sheep will stay with them.

That's okay, if they wanna.

But we are something else.

We have BECOME something else.

And so, since we've changed into non-sheep, naturally we cannot fit in their virtual sheep pens any longer, and we're busting out.

Even if they tried to massacre us en masse, they'd just have a pile of dead bodies that will stink up their Big House and give them cholera and dysentery unless they get their slaves to cart the bodies to the landfill.

It's their problem, not ours.

We'll be watching them, though.  Like Charlie is watching us, and watching over us still.

Yeah, this is all about CHANGE.

Change Frees.

The Human Being is a Being that Transforms Him/Herself.

This is what They have been blocking all this time.

They don't want Change.  They're stuck forever.

Bye-Bye, then.

We are gods; we were never sheep, as they deceived us into believing.

                                    Hermes  Trismegistus

                                     ALL   IS   MENTAL