Entry Submitted by Heisenberg at 7:33 PM EST on February 4, 2020
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light – Dylan Thomas
...I could count twenty such ...
Who strive ...
To paint a little thing like that you smeared
Carelessly passing with your robes afloat--
Yet do much less ... --so much less!
Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged.
There burns a truer light of God in them,
In their vexed beating stuffed and stopped-up brain,
Heart, or whate'er else, than goes on to prompt
This low-pulsed forthright craftsman's hand of mine.
Their works drop groundward, but themselves, I know,
Reach many a time a heaven that's shut to me,
Enter and take their place there sure enough,
Though they come back and cannot tell the world.
... Somebody remarks
Morello's outline there is wrongly traced,
His hue mistaken; what of that? or else,
Rightly traced and well ordered; what of that?
Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for? - Andrea del Sarto
Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere…. The bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so – Anton Ego
The measure of who we are is what we do with what we have - Vince Lombardi
And that brings us to tonight’s word: RATATOUILLE
Is less more? Or is more more? What does society teach us about having less than thy neighbor? The Joneses? Is there shame involved to drive a slightly older car? Or a older set of golf clubs? Or without the country club membership? Is there an inherent shame taught by society that in order to have worth and be happy we should surround ourselves with stuff we don’t need from a bulk warehouse? Only the most expensive to keep up. You don’t wanna be the poor kid in the group, do you? Birthdays at the park? Hand me downs? Mom, I love your coat of many colors but the guys all have Northface. I know we don’t have much money… but could you get a new credit card or maybe pick up some extra shifts? Cause you know, being poor sucks. Girls don’t look my way. All boys seem to see is a dirty little secret south of the tracks. That’s not a marrying thing. That’s a side dish. That’s a booty call. Them boys never did like mamas homemade dress. Papas bank book wasn’t big enough. Kids can be so cruel.
We got McDonalds
You know… looking back, maybe a nice homemade burger from mom beats that kuru inducing pink slime fried up at Ronald’s house. Maybe she didn’t get the bun right, but I’ll take a mom cooked 100% all American beef slider any day over whatever processed bits and pieces they pass as a Big Mac. Bigger than you think. So maybe that meatball with an egg mixed in bought at the local butchers fresh that morning covered in greasy pink dough dripping down your arm with a couple fresh vitamin C veggies popping out might just beat out nano infused fast fast fast food on the healthy scale. But does that make any difference to the neighborhood kids? Those neighborhood kids were just awful, Mur-ray. Can you tell me the difference between Kroger’s soda and coca cola? Me neither but there is. Can’t taste it but it’s in the packaging. Lulu Lemons from Wal Mart? You don’t think people notice that? You don’t think your date’s father noticed what car you’re driving? Did your adidas shoes have 4 stripes? Ouch. Did George Bush make you make you feel half a man for not consuming to his tastes? You’re not doing your part in keeping the economy going? You’re unpatriotic for not taking aout another mortgage on the farm?
I encourage you all to go shopping more
Keeping up with the Joneses
Credit too bad for even a credit card? Those 3 minimum wage jobs can’t pay back 24.99% interest? Shocker. What is this world coming to? Well how are you going to help support the economy? It’s the economy, stupid. Ever gotten a new credit card? Doesn’t it feel like a gift of free money? It’s a strange sensation. For those who struggle to come up with enough money to take their families out for a nice meal once in a very long while, it must feel like free money. I’ll worry about paying back the $25 interest on a $100 meal tomorrow. Just look at the smiles on their little faces. It’s all worth it. I’ll beat the system tomorrow. Manana.
But what they don’t tell you is the $100 you borrowed for a nice corporate dinner is going to pay for food sold to you by the same cabal owned corporations. They don’t tell you the game is rigged. They own it all. And their game plan is to squeeze you so dry from every angle that you turn to them for help in the form of a loan. But no help is given. Only unholy debt. Unless you play ball in their club that is. And beLIEve you me… you do not want to play ball in their club. It’s a game you cannot win.
Did you know the game was rigged when you were born? Me neither. Someone had to tell me. Someone brave. Someone smart. Someone woke. Someone like you. With eyes that can see right thru me. Unafraid of anything those eyes have seen. What do you do once you got woke to the fixed game? For the few here in the pub, how did you react? Every action has a reaction they say. Like Lombardi says, the measure of one is what they can accomplish with what they have. You have a picture of Hillary and a great one liner? MEME city sweetheart. Got a microphone and a computer? X22. You got a mouth? Phil Schneider it is. Q: how many digital warriors went to Psyop University? Who here was formally trained in the art of psychological operations in a structured higher educational setting? Who got their PhD from the best off-the-books school black op heroin money could buy? It’s like revenge of the nerds. The underdogs found a way. Thru sheer will and determination, Booger bested their bestest. Inconceivable. But hey, that’s what Vince preaches. And that’s how champions are made. Not crying that my computer is too slow. That youtube is blocking my channel for copyright infringement. That someone put a dead rat in my mailbox. We know the game is rigged. We know they pay off the refs. Gotta find a way. Back out the digital junkyard to rummage thru garbage for 80’s movie clips. Holy shit. Someone threw out a slightly used Breakfast Club clip? I could use that. What’s that? A perfectly good Top Gun GIF? That’s going in the bit. And what’s over there? Chitlins? Pig tripe? Stomach lining? Collard greens? Pinto beans? Ox Tail? Shark fin? I can do something with that. Not sure what. But we gotta eat. Gotta find spiritual nourishment. Gotta feed the troops. Are we going to starve? We gonna let this rigged game get the best of us? We gonna let that Psyop summa cum laude beat us on the field? Or are we gonna show him what those racket boys can do? You can be trained for every variable the world can throw at you, but when real life throws you a Mariano cutter, ya burnt. Everyone has a game plan until you get punched in the nose. Mike Tyson said that. And I have a feeling, that fancy big city university didn’t prepare them for the digital patriot. They didn’t see those hot tramps coming. How could they know?
It’s amazing to see the digital patriots come out of the woodwork. Quite the uprising. And the natural born talents they bring to the fight. To be in their orbit is inspiring. Some are very serious about their work. Which is great. These are serious times. And others are serious in a not so serious manner. A little comedy relief. Don’t want to go so far as to call anyone a clown but this horror show could use a little brevity. Otherwise I think the experience of the darkness can chip away at our innocence. I’ll be the first to call Heisenberg a clown. Ok. Not the first…
I’ll admit it. A ridiculous dangerous clown… but a clown, nonetheless. Why so serious? There I go Outlaw Pete. Rambling again. Have you ever met Heisenberg? First time to Paddys? Rambling is kinda his thing. Going on 4 years. That’s a lot of yarn in the pub. They all seem like ice cream. Maybe different flavorings but at the end of the day, each one is simply ice, sugar and cream. Some pistachio. Some chocolate. Some vanilla. Anything in particular about Your God Is Fear you didn’t like? Don’t like marshmallows in your rocky road? Or just tired of listening to the ranting lunacy of an old man? Fair enough. Maybe this is a good time for a little back story as they say in Hollywood. How did Arthur Fleck become Joker? And how did we become Heisenberg? First of all. There’s no ego here. The word is not about one person swinging a big one every week. In fact, it’s getting old. How many times can you paint that pig. That poor poor pig. Every word basically says the same thing with different songs and gifs. Lucky to find a hook. Running out of 80’s movies. If someone were to tap my shoulder and say hit the bench, Heis, I got it from here, I would take them up on it. 4 years is a long time. So if anyone wants the job, including you Outlaw Pete, suggestion box is over there.
And you may ask yourself… well… how did I get here?
It all started about 4 years ago. Heis was a baby boy already showing signs of trouble. A daft punk much like Sid Vicious. Throwing in 2 cents when it was not really wanted or needed. There was a psyop chess game being played in the pub and I was the drunk basterd falling into the board. Pieces going everywhere. Even then calling it like it is did not make many friends. What’s a friend? But Heis didn’t come here to make friends. If you’re going to be a bitch… be THAT bitch. Jesus said that. Unconfirmed. Treat as rumor.
So one fine day, there was a bomb scare at the local elementary. And it was an important local elementary if you get my drift. Making this particular day even more fateful was there were 2 other detonated bombings that morning in other parts of the country. This would what been #3. Yikes. A little too close to home and too near the bone. That joke wasn’t funny anymore. Luckily, #3 did not detonate. Thank you, Galactics.
A decision must be made and young Heisenberg found himself out on the crossroad. Either walk away… walk on.. don’t turn around. Don’t turn around your gypsy heart. Or stay and pay the cabal consequences. It was a very clear choice. No grey matter area.
Now it wasn’t really a road… lots of grass and trees. But make no mistake, it was a crossroad. Run away, never speak again and probably be safe. Or stay and fight. Come what may. So be it. A wise man would have run. Like Robert Johnson out on highway 61 before him… a deal was struck. Heisenberg on one side and Arch Angel Michael representing the heavens on the other. Keep the family safe and in exchange, thy will shall be done. Pretty simple. Looking back, should have asked for an Escalade on top. A nice signing bonus. Knowing my luck, it would have been one of those monkey paw deals. A h-h-h-h-aunted E-e-e-e-scalade. Too late. A deals a deal. Spit shake on it.
And off Heis went yada yada yada here we are today. I would say Michael kept his deal. What you think Outlaw Pete from Santa Fe? And since then, I have talked so much shit I can never kiss my momma with this mouth again. It’s bad candy. Wanna know how much shit I’ve talked? Your honor, may I please enter exhibit F and J into evidence? I know your honor… I’m on very thin ice. Thin ice is where I live. Thank you, your honor.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this ain’t even the half of it. But hey, here I am. Here we are. The collective Heisenberg. And if my chasing Alice down the rabbit hole leads me to these images I can’t unsee, looks like were in the suck together. I don’t know which picture is worse. Yes, I do. Her eyes are open. For the love of God, why are her eyes open?
Looking back, I joined the army that day. Not sure which army but something happened. And much like those who join the army, one is given different missions. 4 years on KP? No one is that cruel. The first mission? Be a clown. Be the USO show. Ugly things are coming down the way into the minds of the readers. Laughter is not going to hurt anyone. Fox hole humor.
Second mission? Shine on a light on the rigged game. 3 minimum wage jobs just to survive? Corporations own everything? Fiat money is not backed by assets? The military guard and transport heroin in the bodies of dead soldiers?
Third mission? Communicate with citizens in enemy territory using that pop culture language that has been so useless your entire life. Do that Bender thing. Bring them into the pub. Show them another way. The way of the light. It is there. There’s not much light but it beats the darkness. Buy em a Guinness. Pick up the tab.
Fourth mission? This one’s not going to be easy. Infiltrate Auschwitz. Let them know the angels of heaven are on the move. Help is on the way. Hostage rescue. Forgiveness will be there for those who ask for it. Not everyone mind you. No mercy for swine. And not that Heis has all the answers, but for those who didn’t go off the deep spirit cooking end, help on the way. I know only this. I’ve got you today.
There we go. All caught up. However, I think I got a new mission, thanks to Outlaw Pete. Just arrived yesterday. This is your mission should you choose to accept it. The new mission is to be a candle in the window. To keep an eternal flame burning high upon a mountain top for all with eyes to see. Tinder may be scarce. The wood may be wet. Try not to repeat yourself. This is your mission… should you choose to accept it.
You think after almost 4 years, archangel Michael would let Heisenberg off the hook with a honorable discharge? Break the deal? We spit on it, man. I don’t know. Maybe Michael would say, it’s cool. Retire. Family is safe and sound. I promise. That answers that Q. But what if he’s not “cool” with it? What if all a man has in this universe is his reputation and his word and contracts are taken very seriously? What if joining Gods army is like joining the illuminati? No one gets out that easy? Now I doubt this would be the case, but do I really want to test it? Not really. Not after all this ground covered. Who wants to ruin all this good will? Rides almost over. Be a light once a week. At least. Because nature abhors a vacuum. I remember Yosef when he checked out for a month how empty it felt. Psyop 101. I personally wouldn’t want anyone to look in that window and see an unlit candle. With cobwebs all over. And I definitely wouldn’t want anyone to think the nazis got to Heisenberg. Poor Heis must be hanging off a door somewhere dressed in drag. Scaring kids back under their beds.
Standing in line
The blind lead the blind
Waiting and waiting
For overdue sign
Brothers and sisters
Playing Chinese whispers
If thing's aren't suited
Then they'll get diluted
There is one more dead with a hole in his head
He shouldn't have said all the things he said
Many tears were shed for the blood he bled – Told You So
If anyone wants to know why Heisenberg rambles as he does, there you have it. Fulfilling a contract. Keeping up an end of a bargain. Paying rent in the tower of song. I know it’s not for everyone. Too many inside jokes. Too many secret messages going over your head. It’s not even good writing to begin with. I didn’t go to psyop university. Didn’t even study writing in college. I got a finance degree from a cow college. These words are written at work with no proofreader. They say Ginger Rogers danced just as great as Fred Astaire but backwards and in heels. I imagine if I was a psyop agent with a grey beret paid to do this full time with an assistant, it would be more coherent. Grammar would be better. Focused ideas. But hey, that’s ratatouille for ya. Turning shit into shinola.
And should you ever grow tired of listening to the lunatic banging on of a home grown psyop veteran ranting on about vrill Bill coming for our daughters and our most treasured actors… come closer cause I ain’t going to repeat myself… scoochy scootchy… don’t listen to it…. That line still works. It killed in 2016 and is still gold. Gold Jerry gold. Was it the Vrill, Outlaw Pete? It was the vrill, wasn’t it? Let’s play a game. Let’s play Bird Dog. I’ll be the Labrador and you be the quail. I do agree, old Heisenberg does tend to ramble… however… no one rambles like old Heisenberg. But I digress.
To oceans rage….
Which kinda begs the question… is there any true intel out there anymore? Putting together puzzle pieces sure but is there still an unknow shoe to drop at any moment? Like a big unknown shoe? We know the indictments are coming. Just a matter of time. We know there’s extra terrestrial and extra dimensional beings 5 miles up above us. And standing next to us. We know there’s sub terrestrial lizards down below us. Phil Schneider’s intel from the 90s. Funny how some intel is rediscovering old garbage tossed out decades ago. We know about chemtrailing. Fluoride. GMOS. Heroin fields. MS13. Soros and his voting booth. Reichstag fire power grabs. Alister Crowley and his daughter Barbara Bush. Adolf Hitler and his daughter Angela Merkel. #pizzagate. #fartgate. Antifa and divide and conquer. Pedovore popes. MK ULTRA programming. Cloning. Sweating the quill. Butterscotch. Deep states political game plan. Impeachment. Debt slavery. Gun grabs. Anti gravity vessels? Hidden technologies. DUMBs. I’ll stop right there. The Underground War video was pretty pretty pretty damn awesome. This was the last greatest “intel” dump on me. That’s what she said. I’m very sorry. Brain broken. Knock knock, Mur-ray? This was shocking. I had no idea on the magnitude of these underground cities. In his second video, he mentioned almost the entire state of New Mexico having DUMBs under it. Remember, NM is the 4th largest state in the US. Woke yet? So let’s go to…
https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/map/
and check out recent earthquake activity. NM had a 2.9 M south of Santa Fe on 1-26-20. Not much else. Here’s a few pics within the last 7 days all magnitudes.
7 days! Alaska, Puerto Rico, California and Oklahoma are getting hammered. Do they frack in the ocean? Earthquakes should be interesting to follow as I’m predicting future activity in NM. But is this really intel? Following earthquakes? Or is it a conversation piece? Or have we been given everything there is to give us? Do we already have it all?
I want to beLIEve
Was this rant new to anyone here? Some sure, but most?... No. So what is the holy grail of intel we patiently wait to get dropped on our heads? Release of the RV? Yea, good luck with that one. Iraqi parliament. This is the week. Long weekend. What does Q say? We have more than we know?
And that brings us to tonight’s word: USE YOUR HEAD
What if the final intel piece of the puzzle is us? Each of us? To know we no longer need to depend on the latest drop? Or the latest operation disclosure? What if the greatest piece of intel is common sense? Would that not line up with what Jesus came here to teach us? That we are more powerful than we realize? We can move mountains with the faith of a mustard seed? We’ve been taught here to fish. So go fish. Use your head. Rely on yourself. Free yourself to be yourself. If only you could see yourself. Enjoy the show. Do not fear. Lose your brainwashing. You perverse generation. Don’t look at me. Jesus said that. But the cold hard truth kinda hurts don’t it? We are a perverted generation. Perverted by the desire to keep up with the Joneses. To find worth thru possessions. To be jealous of those who found a way own more. To watch television over 7 hours a day. This is voluntary enslavement. Perverted by false leaders and false gods. Perverted by my precious Guinness. Perverted by Hollywood. Not Top Gun. It’s un-American to diss Top Gun. I know. Let me make it up to you. Hollywood, I’m going to throw you a friggin bone here. It’s a million dollar idea.
I need to sit down for this pitch. Where’s Weinstein’s couch? Getting the help it needs? Oh the butts it’s seen. Forget it. Here you go…. A remake of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers starring Brad Pitt. Eh? Eh? The world is ready. The world is watching. I would pay for that. Nice easy role picking rat shit out of soup. Hollywood…. You’re welcome.
GORLAMI…. GORLAMI…. Gorlami….
Less is more. It’s a little hard to see it with all those zeros on that ZIM note and dreams of yachts, but it is. Less is more because it contradicts everything the cabal conditions us to beLIEve. Always want more. More is good. More sex. More food. More fame. More friends. More cars, clothes, handbags, houses. More credit. More debt. More gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin' in the bathroom, bloodstains, ball gowns, trashin' the hotel room, more Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your timepiece, Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash. And who holds the keys to the more kingdom? That’s right. The ones who sold children for gold. The royals. The bankers. The Rothchilds. You may want more. But more don’t come for free. Gas grass or ass.
On second thought, McDonalds… keep your kuru burger. Those kids can keep their derision and their mockery. I think I’ll have one of mom’s pink greasy dough meatball burgers. Made with love. Sprinkled with devotion. Just scrape off the coagulated wonder bread.
And maybe a little ratatouille on the side?
And that’s the word
Heisenberg
Outlaw Pete London Calling
Ramblin' Man
Stuck In The Middle With You
Staggolee
Running To Stand Still Chicago
I Wanna Be Like You BBVD
The Message Flash
Dreadlock Holiday
Here Comes the Snake
Icky Thump
Love Is On Its Way Out
Rut
I'm Not The Man I Used To Be
Baby, It´s You - Smith
The Caterpillar (Unable to embed below)
Since You've Been Gone FYC
Hotel Yorba
Everybody Knows Justice League
No Mercy for Swine
That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore - Live in Madrid 1985
Put A Candle In The Window
Tower Of Song
Well, my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day in the Tower of Song
I said to Hank Williams, how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
Oh, a hundred floors above me in the Tower of Song
I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond
They tied me to this table right here in the Tower of Song
So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah, they don't let a woman kill you, not in the Tower of Song
Now, you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there's a mighty judgment coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices in the Tower of Song
I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never, we'll never have to lose it again
Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly from a window in the Tower of Song
Yeah, my friends are gone and my hair is gray
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day in the Tower of Song
______________________________________________________
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Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light – Dylan Thomas
...I could count twenty such ...
Who strive ...
To paint a little thing like that you smeared
Carelessly passing with your robes afloat--
Yet do much less ... --so much less!
Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged.
There burns a truer light of God in them,
In their vexed beating stuffed and stopped-up brain,
Heart, or whate'er else, than goes on to prompt
This low-pulsed forthright craftsman's hand of mine.
Their works drop groundward, but themselves, I know,
Reach many a time a heaven that's shut to me,
Enter and take their place there sure enough,
Though they come back and cannot tell the world.
... Somebody remarks
Morello's outline there is wrongly traced,
His hue mistaken; what of that? or else,
Rightly traced and well ordered; what of that?
Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for? - Andrea del Sarto
Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere…. The bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so – Anton Ego
The measure of who we are is what we do with what we have - Vince Lombardi
And that brings us to tonight’s word: RATATOUILLE
Is less more? Or is more more? What does society teach us about having less than thy neighbor? The Joneses? Is there shame involved to drive a slightly older car? Or a older set of golf clubs? Or without the country club membership? Is there an inherent shame taught by society that in order to have worth and be happy we should surround ourselves with stuff we don’t need from a bulk warehouse? Only the most expensive to keep up. You don’t wanna be the poor kid in the group, do you? Birthdays at the park? Hand me downs? Mom, I love your coat of many colors but the guys all have Northface. I know we don’t have much money… but could you get a new credit card or maybe pick up some extra shifts? Cause you know, being poor sucks. Girls don’t look my way. All boys seem to see is a dirty little secret south of the tracks. That’s not a marrying thing. That’s a side dish. That’s a booty call. Them boys never did like mamas homemade dress. Papas bank book wasn’t big enough. Kids can be so cruel.
We got McDonalds
You know… looking back, maybe a nice homemade burger from mom beats that kuru inducing pink slime fried up at Ronald’s house. Maybe she didn’t get the bun right, but I’ll take a mom cooked 100% all American beef slider any day over whatever processed bits and pieces they pass as a Big Mac. Bigger than you think. So maybe that meatball with an egg mixed in bought at the local butchers fresh that morning covered in greasy pink dough dripping down your arm with a couple fresh vitamin C veggies popping out might just beat out nano infused fast fast fast food on the healthy scale. But does that make any difference to the neighborhood kids? Those neighborhood kids were just awful, Mur-ray. Can you tell me the difference between Kroger’s soda and coca cola? Me neither but there is. Can’t taste it but it’s in the packaging. Lulu Lemons from Wal Mart? You don’t think people notice that? You don’t think your date’s father noticed what car you’re driving? Did your adidas shoes have 4 stripes? Ouch. Did George Bush make you make you feel half a man for not consuming to his tastes? You’re not doing your part in keeping the economy going? You’re unpatriotic for not taking aout another mortgage on the farm?
I encourage you all to go shopping more
Keeping up with the Joneses
Credit too bad for even a credit card? Those 3 minimum wage jobs can’t pay back 24.99% interest? Shocker. What is this world coming to? Well how are you going to help support the economy? It’s the economy, stupid. Ever gotten a new credit card? Doesn’t it feel like a gift of free money? It’s a strange sensation. For those who struggle to come up with enough money to take their families out for a nice meal once in a very long while, it must feel like free money. I’ll worry about paying back the $25 interest on a $100 meal tomorrow. Just look at the smiles on their little faces. It’s all worth it. I’ll beat the system tomorrow. Manana.
But what they don’t tell you is the $100 you borrowed for a nice corporate dinner is going to pay for food sold to you by the same cabal owned corporations. They don’t tell you the game is rigged. They own it all. And their game plan is to squeeze you so dry from every angle that you turn to them for help in the form of a loan. But no help is given. Only unholy debt. Unless you play ball in their club that is. And beLIEve you me… you do not want to play ball in their club. It’s a game you cannot win.
Did you know the game was rigged when you were born? Me neither. Someone had to tell me. Someone brave. Someone smart. Someone woke. Someone like you. With eyes that can see right thru me. Unafraid of anything those eyes have seen. What do you do once you got woke to the fixed game? For the few here in the pub, how did you react? Every action has a reaction they say. Like Lombardi says, the measure of one is what they can accomplish with what they have. You have a picture of Hillary and a great one liner? MEME city sweetheart. Got a microphone and a computer? X22. You got a mouth? Phil Schneider it is. Q: how many digital warriors went to Psyop University? Who here was formally trained in the art of psychological operations in a structured higher educational setting? Who got their PhD from the best off-the-books school black op heroin money could buy? It’s like revenge of the nerds. The underdogs found a way. Thru sheer will and determination, Booger bested their bestest. Inconceivable. But hey, that’s what Vince preaches. And that’s how champions are made. Not crying that my computer is too slow. That youtube is blocking my channel for copyright infringement. That someone put a dead rat in my mailbox. We know the game is rigged. We know they pay off the refs. Gotta find a way. Back out the digital junkyard to rummage thru garbage for 80’s movie clips. Holy shit. Someone threw out a slightly used Breakfast Club clip? I could use that. What’s that? A perfectly good Top Gun GIF? That’s going in the bit. And what’s over there? Chitlins? Pig tripe? Stomach lining? Collard greens? Pinto beans? Ox Tail? Shark fin? I can do something with that. Not sure what. But we gotta eat. Gotta find spiritual nourishment. Gotta feed the troops. Are we going to starve? We gonna let this rigged game get the best of us? We gonna let that Psyop summa cum laude beat us on the field? Or are we gonna show him what those racket boys can do? You can be trained for every variable the world can throw at you, but when real life throws you a Mariano cutter, ya burnt. Everyone has a game plan until you get punched in the nose. Mike Tyson said that. And I have a feeling, that fancy big city university didn’t prepare them for the digital patriot. They didn’t see those hot tramps coming. How could they know?
It’s amazing to see the digital patriots come out of the woodwork. Quite the uprising. And the natural born talents they bring to the fight. To be in their orbit is inspiring. Some are very serious about their work. Which is great. These are serious times. And others are serious in a not so serious manner. A little comedy relief. Don’t want to go so far as to call anyone a clown but this horror show could use a little brevity. Otherwise I think the experience of the darkness can chip away at our innocence. I’ll be the first to call Heisenberg a clown. Ok. Not the first…
I’ll admit it. A ridiculous dangerous clown… but a clown, nonetheless. Why so serious? There I go Outlaw Pete. Rambling again. Have you ever met Heisenberg? First time to Paddys? Rambling is kinda his thing. Going on 4 years. That’s a lot of yarn in the pub. They all seem like ice cream. Maybe different flavorings but at the end of the day, each one is simply ice, sugar and cream. Some pistachio. Some chocolate. Some vanilla. Anything in particular about Your God Is Fear you didn’t like? Don’t like marshmallows in your rocky road? Or just tired of listening to the ranting lunacy of an old man? Fair enough. Maybe this is a good time for a little back story as they say in Hollywood. How did Arthur Fleck become Joker? And how did we become Heisenberg? First of all. There’s no ego here. The word is not about one person swinging a big one every week. In fact, it’s getting old. How many times can you paint that pig. That poor poor pig. Every word basically says the same thing with different songs and gifs. Lucky to find a hook. Running out of 80’s movies. If someone were to tap my shoulder and say hit the bench, Heis, I got it from here, I would take them up on it. 4 years is a long time. So if anyone wants the job, including you Outlaw Pete, suggestion box is over there.
And you may ask yourself… well… how did I get here?
It all started about 4 years ago. Heis was a baby boy already showing signs of trouble. A daft punk much like Sid Vicious. Throwing in 2 cents when it was not really wanted or needed. There was a psyop chess game being played in the pub and I was the drunk basterd falling into the board. Pieces going everywhere. Even then calling it like it is did not make many friends. What’s a friend? But Heis didn’t come here to make friends. If you’re going to be a bitch… be THAT bitch. Jesus said that. Unconfirmed. Treat as rumor.
So one fine day, there was a bomb scare at the local elementary. And it was an important local elementary if you get my drift. Making this particular day even more fateful was there were 2 other detonated bombings that morning in other parts of the country. This would what been #3. Yikes. A little too close to home and too near the bone. That joke wasn’t funny anymore. Luckily, #3 did not detonate. Thank you, Galactics.
A decision must be made and young Heisenberg found himself out on the crossroad. Either walk away… walk on.. don’t turn around. Don’t turn around your gypsy heart. Or stay and pay the cabal consequences. It was a very clear choice. No grey matter area.
Now it wasn’t really a road… lots of grass and trees. But make no mistake, it was a crossroad. Run away, never speak again and probably be safe. Or stay and fight. Come what may. So be it. A wise man would have run. Like Robert Johnson out on highway 61 before him… a deal was struck. Heisenberg on one side and Arch Angel Michael representing the heavens on the other. Keep the family safe and in exchange, thy will shall be done. Pretty simple. Looking back, should have asked for an Escalade on top. A nice signing bonus. Knowing my luck, it would have been one of those monkey paw deals. A h-h-h-h-aunted E-e-e-e-scalade. Too late. A deals a deal. Spit shake on it.
And off Heis went yada yada yada here we are today. I would say Michael kept his deal. What you think Outlaw Pete from Santa Fe? And since then, I have talked so much shit I can never kiss my momma with this mouth again. It’s bad candy. Wanna know how much shit I’ve talked? Your honor, may I please enter exhibit F and J into evidence? I know your honor… I’m on very thin ice. Thin ice is where I live. Thank you, your honor.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this ain’t even the half of it. But hey, here I am. Here we are. The collective Heisenberg. And if my chasing Alice down the rabbit hole leads me to these images I can’t unsee, looks like were in the suck together. I don’t know which picture is worse. Yes, I do. Her eyes are open. For the love of God, why are her eyes open?
Looking back, I joined the army that day. Not sure which army but something happened. And much like those who join the army, one is given different missions. 4 years on KP? No one is that cruel. The first mission? Be a clown. Be the USO show. Ugly things are coming down the way into the minds of the readers. Laughter is not going to hurt anyone. Fox hole humor.
Second mission? Shine on a light on the rigged game. 3 minimum wage jobs just to survive? Corporations own everything? Fiat money is not backed by assets? The military guard and transport heroin in the bodies of dead soldiers?
Third mission? Communicate with citizens in enemy territory using that pop culture language that has been so useless your entire life. Do that Bender thing. Bring them into the pub. Show them another way. The way of the light. It is there. There’s not much light but it beats the darkness. Buy em a Guinness. Pick up the tab.
Fourth mission? This one’s not going to be easy. Infiltrate Auschwitz. Let them know the angels of heaven are on the move. Help is on the way. Hostage rescue. Forgiveness will be there for those who ask for it. Not everyone mind you. No mercy for swine. And not that Heis has all the answers, but for those who didn’t go off the deep spirit cooking end, help on the way. I know only this. I’ve got you today.
There we go. All caught up. However, I think I got a new mission, thanks to Outlaw Pete. Just arrived yesterday. This is your mission should you choose to accept it. The new mission is to be a candle in the window. To keep an eternal flame burning high upon a mountain top for all with eyes to see. Tinder may be scarce. The wood may be wet. Try not to repeat yourself. This is your mission… should you choose to accept it.
You think after almost 4 years, archangel Michael would let Heisenberg off the hook with a honorable discharge? Break the deal? We spit on it, man. I don’t know. Maybe Michael would say, it’s cool. Retire. Family is safe and sound. I promise. That answers that Q. But what if he’s not “cool” with it? What if all a man has in this universe is his reputation and his word and contracts are taken very seriously? What if joining Gods army is like joining the illuminati? No one gets out that easy? Now I doubt this would be the case, but do I really want to test it? Not really. Not after all this ground covered. Who wants to ruin all this good will? Rides almost over. Be a light once a week. At least. Because nature abhors a vacuum. I remember Yosef when he checked out for a month how empty it felt. Psyop 101. I personally wouldn’t want anyone to look in that window and see an unlit candle. With cobwebs all over. And I definitely wouldn’t want anyone to think the nazis got to Heisenberg. Poor Heis must be hanging off a door somewhere dressed in drag. Scaring kids back under their beds.
Standing in line
The blind lead the blind
Waiting and waiting
For overdue sign
Brothers and sisters
Playing Chinese whispers
If thing's aren't suited
Then they'll get diluted
There is one more dead with a hole in his head
He shouldn't have said all the things he said
Many tears were shed for the blood he bled – Told You So
If anyone wants to know why Heisenberg rambles as he does, there you have it. Fulfilling a contract. Keeping up an end of a bargain. Paying rent in the tower of song. I know it’s not for everyone. Too many inside jokes. Too many secret messages going over your head. It’s not even good writing to begin with. I didn’t go to psyop university. Didn’t even study writing in college. I got a finance degree from a cow college. These words are written at work with no proofreader. They say Ginger Rogers danced just as great as Fred Astaire but backwards and in heels. I imagine if I was a psyop agent with a grey beret paid to do this full time with an assistant, it would be more coherent. Grammar would be better. Focused ideas. But hey, that’s ratatouille for ya. Turning shit into shinola.
And should you ever grow tired of listening to the lunatic banging on of a home grown psyop veteran ranting on about vrill Bill coming for our daughters and our most treasured actors… come closer cause I ain’t going to repeat myself… scoochy scootchy… don’t listen to it…. That line still works. It killed in 2016 and is still gold. Gold Jerry gold. Was it the Vrill, Outlaw Pete? It was the vrill, wasn’t it? Let’s play a game. Let’s play Bird Dog. I’ll be the Labrador and you be the quail. I do agree, old Heisenberg does tend to ramble… however… no one rambles like old Heisenberg. But I digress.
To oceans rage….
Which kinda begs the question… is there any true intel out there anymore? Putting together puzzle pieces sure but is there still an unknow shoe to drop at any moment? Like a big unknown shoe? We know the indictments are coming. Just a matter of time. We know there’s extra terrestrial and extra dimensional beings 5 miles up above us. And standing next to us. We know there’s sub terrestrial lizards down below us. Phil Schneider’s intel from the 90s. Funny how some intel is rediscovering old garbage tossed out decades ago. We know about chemtrailing. Fluoride. GMOS. Heroin fields. MS13. Soros and his voting booth. Reichstag fire power grabs. Alister Crowley and his daughter Barbara Bush. Adolf Hitler and his daughter Angela Merkel. #pizzagate. #fartgate. Antifa and divide and conquer. Pedovore popes. MK ULTRA programming. Cloning. Sweating the quill. Butterscotch. Deep states political game plan. Impeachment. Debt slavery. Gun grabs. Anti gravity vessels? Hidden technologies. DUMBs. I’ll stop right there. The Underground War video was pretty pretty pretty damn awesome. This was the last greatest “intel” dump on me. That’s what she said. I’m very sorry. Brain broken. Knock knock, Mur-ray? This was shocking. I had no idea on the magnitude of these underground cities. In his second video, he mentioned almost the entire state of New Mexico having DUMBs under it. Remember, NM is the 4th largest state in the US. Woke yet? So let’s go to…
https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/map/
and check out recent earthquake activity. NM had a 2.9 M south of Santa Fe on 1-26-20. Not much else. Here’s a few pics within the last 7 days all magnitudes.
7 days! Alaska, Puerto Rico, California and Oklahoma are getting hammered. Do they frack in the ocean? Earthquakes should be interesting to follow as I’m predicting future activity in NM. But is this really intel? Following earthquakes? Or is it a conversation piece? Or have we been given everything there is to give us? Do we already have it all?
I want to beLIEve
Was this rant new to anyone here? Some sure, but most?... No. So what is the holy grail of intel we patiently wait to get dropped on our heads? Release of the RV? Yea, good luck with that one. Iraqi parliament. This is the week. Long weekend. What does Q say? We have more than we know?
And that brings us to tonight’s word: USE YOUR HEAD
What if the final intel piece of the puzzle is us? Each of us? To know we no longer need to depend on the latest drop? Or the latest operation disclosure? What if the greatest piece of intel is common sense? Would that not line up with what Jesus came here to teach us? That we are more powerful than we realize? We can move mountains with the faith of a mustard seed? We’ve been taught here to fish. So go fish. Use your head. Rely on yourself. Free yourself to be yourself. If only you could see yourself. Enjoy the show. Do not fear. Lose your brainwashing. You perverse generation. Don’t look at me. Jesus said that. But the cold hard truth kinda hurts don’t it? We are a perverted generation. Perverted by the desire to keep up with the Joneses. To find worth thru possessions. To be jealous of those who found a way own more. To watch television over 7 hours a day. This is voluntary enslavement. Perverted by false leaders and false gods. Perverted by my precious Guinness. Perverted by Hollywood. Not Top Gun. It’s un-American to diss Top Gun. I know. Let me make it up to you. Hollywood, I’m going to throw you a friggin bone here. It’s a million dollar idea.
I need to sit down for this pitch. Where’s Weinstein’s couch? Getting the help it needs? Oh the butts it’s seen. Forget it. Here you go…. A remake of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers starring Brad Pitt. Eh? Eh? The world is ready. The world is watching. I would pay for that. Nice easy role picking rat shit out of soup. Hollywood…. You’re welcome.
GORLAMI…. GORLAMI…. Gorlami….
Less is more. It’s a little hard to see it with all those zeros on that ZIM note and dreams of yachts, but it is. Less is more because it contradicts everything the cabal conditions us to beLIEve. Always want more. More is good. More sex. More food. More fame. More friends. More cars, clothes, handbags, houses. More credit. More debt. More gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin' in the bathroom, bloodstains, ball gowns, trashin' the hotel room, more Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your timepiece, Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash. And who holds the keys to the more kingdom? That’s right. The ones who sold children for gold. The royals. The bankers. The Rothchilds. You may want more. But more don’t come for free. Gas grass or ass.
On second thought, McDonalds… keep your kuru burger. Those kids can keep their derision and their mockery. I think I’ll have one of mom’s pink greasy dough meatball burgers. Made with love. Sprinkled with devotion. Just scrape off the coagulated wonder bread.
And maybe a little ratatouille on the side?
And that’s the word
Heisenberg
Outlaw Pete London Calling
Ramblin' Man
Stuck In The Middle With You
Staggolee
Running To Stand Still Chicago
I Wanna Be Like You BBVD
The Message Flash
Dreadlock Holiday
Here Comes the Snake
Icky Thump
Love Is On Its Way Out
Rut
I'm Not The Man I Used To Be
Baby, It´s You - Smith
The Caterpillar (Unable to embed below)
Since You've Been Gone FYC
Hotel Yorba
Everybody Knows Justice League
No Mercy for Swine
That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore - Live in Madrid 1985
Put A Candle In The Window
Tower Of Song
Well, my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day in the Tower of Song
I said to Hank Williams, how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
Oh, a hundred floors above me in the Tower of Song
I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond
They tied me to this table right here in the Tower of Song
So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah, they don't let a woman kill you, not in the Tower of Song
Now, you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there's a mighty judgment coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices in the Tower of Song
I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never, we'll never have to lose it again
Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly from a window in the Tower of Song
Yeah, my friends are gone and my hair is gray
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day in the Tower of Song
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