Michael Hofffman, II, from p. 55 of the book above, Secret Societies and Psychological Warfare...
(quoting from his book , Apocalypse Culture): "...in the brilliant word-play of the (mythical) Masonic (figure) Dr. Syntax we came to the current unfoldment in "Must Be," an alchemical (cant language code) term Mr. (James Shelby) Downard translates as "the Revelation of the Method." This alludes to the process wherein murderous deeds and hell-raising conspiracies involving wars, revolutions, decapitations, secret archeo-astronomic deity cult-worship, and every manner of horror show are first buried beneath a cloak of secrecy...and then, when finally accomplished and secured, slowly revealed to the unsuspecting populace who watch...deep frozen...as the hidden history is unveiled...In the circulation of...(anti-Academy) manuscripts...the revelation of the method is accomplished . Truth or consequences...Downard ...is acutely aware that in exposing the conspirators he is probably serving the final dictum (in their alchemical formula)..."
But Luke 8:17 predicts this so well, so if man doesn't act, God will, sooner than later! In the meantime, exposure itself does not defeat the cryptocracy, because given the degraded and atrophied nature of modern man's perceptions and insight today, such revelations may only serve to strengthen the cryptocracy's mental hold.
The record shows that the recent revelations of occult crimes are almost never accompanied by arrests, prosecutions, convictions and punishment if the initiates involved, hence the reputation of the cryptocracy's invincibility is heightened by the revelations.
Moreover, the spectacular nature of the revealed crimes carry a highly charged aura of the violent and the erotic and in the final analysis, when exposed to public attention, only become further grist for the seemingly limitless public appetite for shock-titillation and passive voyeurism...
... If the truth of what the cryptocracy has perpetrated is grasped and acted upon, the consequences for the conspirators would be annihilation. But if the people fail to perceive the truth or fail to act on their perception, thus rendering unto the process a kind of tacit consent born of apathy, amnesia and ambulia, the consequences for the conspirators will be a giant-step in the advancement of their system of control, that is to say, ever tighter bonds of enslavement for humanity.
Why does the cryptocracy bother to gamble so much by going public with what it is doing to us? Because consent fuels their control like no other form of energy.
Alright...
I portend and appreciate the planet we inhabit was probably present before I was plopped and will probably be here when my bones are buried; but sometimes I wondered when I was younger if I, myself, had already passed … that poignant point of no repass... a little alone, but maybe not quite - like a scene in the movies,The Sixth Sense, or Ghost.
Now in my 60’s, I see a system unsurely evolved from lots and lots of (repetitious) repeated practice...
Experiencing the scene as a sprout in the 60’s, I suppose I swallowed the official stories of the Kennedy - King killings because I was brought up a brainwashed kid. Then in the 70's, I was so busy working I wasn't aware of Watergate and couldn't care less about the ’76 hearings… I saw a Geraldo in '88. Then in the 90's, thirty years after JFK's murder, "The Men Who Killed Kennedy" hit The History Channel - when the mainstream media began beating the bongo that maybe Lee Oswald wasn't acting alone… that day in Dallas at Dealey Plaza…
Nevertheless, nobody cared, it was out of my league, I sorta forgot and foraged on forward - learning a living and living the lie.
By 9/11/2001, I sorta understood that the terror attacks were a little too perfect to be totally true - because they meant so much money for military spending, Homeland Security, special interests, the national deficit, et cetera, so forth, again and again and again… I began to wonder why we were waging war in our world? …the way of the World? …who, what, and where I was in the world? …and the weird, wired, World Wide Web was where we were weaving what we were watching and wending our world with one and other; and one day, wondering what happened to JFK, I started exploring some exhilarating, but sober, insightful discoveries - incomprehensible pre-computer; as some serious historians were consistently insisting some super selective secret teams are social conditioning mainstream society's psychological situation - so citizens’ decisions shall cease to exist…
I remember JFK!! And as I recall, the mainstream media reports propaganda and promotes pretty products the same today as for JFK; except today, toddlers can tune to porn in the morn, a mess of mass murders in the middle of the day, and vixens and evil every evening!!
I can still recall as a six year old kid clambering through the lucarne to the second story shingles - expecting to soar in my (Sears catalogue) Superman suit that Santa Claus scored me for Christmas one season... Staring up high at a bright, blue sky… My eyeballs blinking - to that 6 foot fence far below… slipping inside through the sill instead… then getting in trouble for forgetting to shut it!
Shoot man! in the years surrounding '63, a sassy brat in a suburb of Dallas, I could take a canteen and explore all day, traipsing down trails and climbing up trees, out in the woods, off on my own, blisting at birds with my BB gun. I especially remember a sunny September, Saturday morning, assembling the seat on a brand new Schwinn (]that I won in a sweepstakes from a shoe store in Austin) while Chymp and Champ - my much older half-brothers, were baggin' some leaves from our big front lawn, I suddenly spotted two dapper dudes trekking right toward us through the old growth forest - from the castle with a tennis court up the creek, clear to the driveway where our Dad was standing… Momentarily, my Mom was amongst 'em? Seriously discussing some bizness or somethin'?? ...Then, Chymp started chatting with the older adults??? I'd never really noticed our neighbor before, so straddling my Stingray I spied from the street - almost
Gee whiz...
But, I digress...
One day when Dad was drunk, my much older half-brothers reminded me, "He was quite a man before you met him.", and were fast to inform me of our father's long life - before I was born...
Dad on the left during World War 1
I imagine my Pa out on the prairie - with the power of prayer… The Bible, a book, and maybe a radio, but definitely no Mayberry RFD!!
Working his way from the Panhandle plains, Dad earned his degree - during the Great Depression, then worked some more - before the next War; when he served as an officer in the South Pacific, flying off and on an aircraft carrier... Dad never would’ve mentioned his military medals, that scar on his neck, or the kamikazi 'craft that crashed on the deck... except a couple of times - I insensibly asked, and he stoically told me… staring away... "I lost a lot of friends.", and, "You haven't been scared 'til a storm at sea."
Dad on the deck during World War 2
One day, when Dad was sober, he did describe the deadly conflagration at the Cocoanut Grove - where hundreds were burned near Boston Harbor: He and his pals had just arrived, spun round and round the revolving door; in, and around, then back outside, freezing in front of the building again; because the paper mache palms had flashed afire - and the panicking patrons were suddenly screamin' and scramblin' right toward ‘em, desperately strugglin' to escape the smoke! Next they knew, all they could do was watch from the sidewalk as - just inside - dozens of smothering party faces pushed and shoved - until they were stuck - suddenly trapped in that existential exit!
Dad did die in the wake of the War, on a freezing evening in the oil field. Falling asleep on the cozy front seat - while the engine ran - in his Ford sedan, he was overcome by carbon monoxide and wouldn't awaken to work the well! His passing was promptly reported in his parents' paper, but (literally) laying on a table in the local morgue, it dawned on my Dad he wasn't dead!!
Another time, huntin' near Hartzel, his horse was shot out - from underneath him!!!
(not my mother)
My mother, Mom, was a sassafras lass from the Lone Star State with a sparkling smile and a gift for the gab. Batting her baby blues eyes (before I was born), she lured a lieutenant following World War 2, and they moved near Miami where the mensch she married was made a Vice President at his parent’s bank. Meanwhile, Mom was declared the “Best Dressed Woman in Miami Beach”, beat Goren at bridge, and Dino Martini "tried" to dine her - at a cocktail club in Coconut Grove... She later explained that she was “plain homesick"; so divorcing the dude and dashing to Dallas, she briskly landed at Braniff Airlines - as a reservationist, to exploit the experience of flying for free! After awhile, Mom dated my Dad... "the love of my life" - a decade older, also divorced, and drillin' for oil around the woild…
I suppose I should say something of the Confederate officer’s Civil War saber that stood in a corner when I was a kid in my Grandmother’s study, and the story she shared of a wounded soldier in the wake of the war - way back when, who found his way to her forefather’s door, where the family physician fixed him up, and they let him recline until he was rested and eventually ready to limp back home; when he gave her grandparents’ his southerner’s sword as a good will gesture of his gratitude.
I should also mention my my mother’s Dad (my Granddad in the middle), was an Army airman on wobbly wings while World War 1 was under way.
Anyway, down through the decades, Mom delighted us a dozens of times at the dining room table, delicately dishing a delicious dessert with the dainty details of the adults' discussion in our driveway that day - when I was sittin' on my Schwinn way back when...
"What's Chymp gonna do after graduation?", our noble neighbor succinctly hinted - hands on his hips.
Charming as always, Mom chimed right in for her step-child Chymp; excitedly suggesting that, "Chymp would love to learn to fly-y! Maybe the Academy in Colorado??"
I can still see the urbane feller in his camel hair colored cardigan sweater, closely followed by his fashionable friend - breezing back through the brush to his humble abode; then in a minute (or maybe two), hippity-hoppin’ by himself - back to our driveway to deliver the deal:
The flying academy was fully committed. Chymp ’could be first on the waiting list ... or I've reserved a room’ near the Capital of Maryland at the Academy on the Atlantic coast; whereupon the debonaire dude handed big brother Congressman Cowbell's personal number on a piece of paper.
I’ve scarcely seen my straight sibling since that sunny September day in the ’60’s, but suffice to say, my much older half-brother - never flew jets, but he’s a twice retired public servant, member of Mensa and a Viet Nam vet - who served as an officer in the South Pacific.
But, again I digress...
I didn't get drafted, so most of my memories are monochromatic/melodramatic. Tuning the channel to TV 2, laughing out loud at Looney Tunes, taking for granted that the TV was true… Trust me: I'm an expert… TV has taught me more than my teachers! I Loved Lucy, Leave it to Beaver, Andy Griffith, Get Smart, Dobie Gillis, Gilligan's Island, My Three Sons, McHale's Navy, Roy Rogers, The Real McCoy’s; and the manly men moral tales were memorable too - Lawman, Laramie, Maverick, Wagon Train, Wild, Wild West, The Rifleman, Rawhide, and of course the original Superman!
Throwing up thespians in a plethora of plots, massaging the menagerie of our imagination, minding the mindless mining the masses, managing the madness in a myriad of media, travelling troubadours are traditionally staging an alternate reality to feed the needy forever focused on the multi-faceted, flatly ridiculous, official theory continually spinning on 500 channels - and our i-tunes, Internet and telephone too!
Seeing as how my Mom and Dad decided to marry after so many miles when I seemingly started as a single silly spermatozoa, one amidst millions - maybe trillions, to successfully seed a single ovum - on the only planet - in an infinity of empty - capable of populating this perilous plight...
0 - 1. On - off. Dark - Light. In - Out. Cold - Hot. Pain - Pleasure. Boy - Girl. Friend - Foe. Good - Evil. As above - So below...… Seems to me, mathematically metastasizing, this is where matters began and end.
A lotta philosophers strive to compare their parallel plane to the planet we apparently seem to share - an alternate reality, if you will... some flatulant, flunky, false flag philosophy, or preferring to refer to my regular reality as geo or ego-centric because from my perspective, and probably yours - in our mutually exclusive shared experience, our world is infinite in every direction, our horizon is essentially always eye level, nobody knows what's far below, while our Sun and Moon and star constellations cross our sky - like a series of signals - wa-ay up high...
Furthermore… and inner-most, Consciousness is the key component of our common equation we all consider.
R-r-reminiscing the musical scale - repeating octaves - higher and lower - 'til our lobes won't listen to the libretto no more, or watching in wonder as those night-time owls - and the bats from the belfry - fly so free through the darkest fields, or maybe beholding Buddy the beagle - bolting out back - excitedly chasing rabbits and squirrels - sniffing their scents around the yard, experiencing our surroundings thru the limited spectrum we mutually share, then sights, smells, sounds and census some of the rest of us of simply don’t sense... So, it shouldn’t surprise us that some sorta species are specializing in setting in their sights on cents we don’t see.
Art, pics, knick knacks and clocks remind me of memories we may have in common; because memes and sigils are historically incorporated in architectural and cultural icons, religious rituals, popular literature, music, and movies; and the remote control and simple symbology are unseen energies that often affect us from afar - as well as within - to regularly remind the messy masses of our masonic mainstream space and time..
Turning our attention to the Tube - a parallel plan of our plane if you please, the plight purveyors predictably programming and pushing our problems down the portal are a verily probable piece of the puzzle. God, War, religion and sports, the de-edification of edgecation, flashing fingers and facial expressions, subtle innuendo and NLP, civil procedural sigil symbology and "meta-meme magic on a massive scale" are mutually embedded in our mainstream mainframe to manage our minds and mine the madness....
… Heinz von Forster is one of the pioneers of the theory of Constructivism, according to which we human beings construct our own reality. No objective reality exists independent of the observer.
During the 60's, Heinz von Foerster is head of his own research laboratory, the "Biological Computer Lab" at the University of Illinois. Here, commissioned by research departments of the US Navy and Air Force, he works on, among other projects, the merging of digital and biological systems.
…
Heinz Von Foerster: Well, in this world-wide, functioning system of machines, all theories are correct, and of course that's what people want. Why are they correct? Because they can all be deduced from other theories and "stories" ...
Question: But what will it lead to? How does it go on?
Foerster: It goes on deducing indefinitely.
Question: But there have to be limits somewhere?
Foerster: No, not at all, that's the the good thing about it. You can go on forever.
Question: In logic?
Foerster: Yes, Precisely.
Question: But in reality?
Foerster: Where is reality? Can you show it to me?
Presenting the players who push the perception we need protection by perpetrating terror on the population they're supposed to protect…
I really don't care to try to convince you, but crisis actors posing as witnesses are a major medium the mainstream uses to paint us a picture of what supposedly 'happened' when a story explodes on our TV screen.
Following the future from our past, as the USA is systematically dis-assembled, are cafrs and capstones calling the shots? Corporate and state intelligence teams transporting players from place to place, (prison to prison), programming the media with moles, and patsies, and some pretty bad actors, apparently in precincts that won't press charges, transparently staging these scary scenarios to channel our perceptions and expectations??
Countries historically come and go - because the world is ruled (divided) by financial factions - fanatically forcing their bottom line, and diss/arming the citizenry and permanent war are traditionally a prescription to ply the public perpetually powerless to prevent the profiteers from plundering their pile.
In other words, is it true that ”The US is a literal rogue state empire led by neo-colonial looting liars.”?
WHO can facilitate a false flag-aganza? Are grants and donations funding these farces? Forcing federal incentives on city officials? (Perhaps, this is why the cops comply - and so quickly defer to Federal Authority?) Secret Societies? Men with Money? Maybe one faction flogging another? Sharks circling in an incessant strategy to divide and conquer our sovereign country??
When the top politicians are enriching the gangsters - blackmailing and bribing public officials, and we find we're not fightin' for God and freedom, but for a foreigner Godfathers' financial fiefdom - the same fuggin' fascists our forefathers fought, will our our leaders' malfeasance forestall our faith in gov't officials and inspire some dissonance amidst the constituents perceiving the system diss-represents them?
Are twenty first century, psy-war transmissions, like this discussion an asymmetrical, multi-faceted, facetious farce to fractally train our frame of reference…