Sign In

Not a Member? Sign up here its FREE                 Forgot password?

Share Profile

Cetah444, Albert (Hahnemannian444)

Cetah444, Albert (Hahnemannian444)
Name : Cetah444, Albert (Hahnemannian444)    Sex : Male Age : 64    Birthday : November, 04 Location : Moon City, Antartica, Antartica Page : www.cityevents.tv/Cetah444 Status : Writer

My Information :


Languages : //
Ethnicity : No Info.
Religion : No Info.
Smoking : No Info.
Drinking : No Info.
Education : No Info.
Occupation : Medical/Health Services
Title/Position : Hahnemannian homeopathic physician
Interested in : No Info.
Status : No Info.

My Favorites :


Drinks : Dark beer. Don’t drink much, though.
Venue : You show me, sweetie. Amaze me, and I
Music : See turn ons & offs.
DJs : See turn ons & offs.
Bands : Too many to list. I was a hippie. Music works for me, too, sweetie.
Movies : See turn ons & offs.
TV Shows : See turn ons & offs.
Radio Station : See turn ons & offs.
Books/Mags : See turn ons & offs.
Fashion Brand : See turn ons & offs.


About me :

I’m only posting here because someone I adore has, so this is nobody else’s business, but I wish everyone else the same good fortune. I asked Santa Claus for a babe fox like her with a big heart and big brain when I was 13 years old. It’s a bit overdue but not late. Works for me. Thank you, buddy, you do good work.


My Type of Person :

She's it, pal. Get away from me. Get away from us.


My Turn on/off :

Again, I am only posting here because someone I adore has. It's a good question, though. Here's why: She doesn't have any of them, so it's irrelevant. Fancy, huh? I like it.

The 411 on the accessory pictures are as follows. The first guy is Clemens von Boenninghausen. He was our first master homeopath after Hahnemann. Count von Boenninghausen was a Dutch attorney saved from a tubercular death by homeopathy who then took up the study. His best work -- and he had a big pencil -- was easily his glosses on the aphorisms of Hippocrates: http://julianwinston.com/archives/periodicals/vb_aphorisms7.php. Be amazed!

The next picture to the right is one of my favorites of Samuel Hahnemann. My guess has it him in Leipsig in about 1828 just before being forced into exile by the God-damned German apothecaries following the death of a noble and general (a hero in the successful fight against Napoleon) who'd traveled all of the way from Vienna to be treated by Hahnemann because all of the European royals knew about his ability to cure. The man had suffered a stroke and was kept alive by Hahnemann for six months after arriving as a virtual corpse in Leipzig with a small army of Germany's best soldiers acting as his personal honor guard. That large troupe rolled into the city and immediately brought it to a complete standstill due to the noise and came to a halt at Hahnemann's small clinic. It's a long story.

The next picture is the only photograph of Hahnemann. It was captured shortly after the development of photography. This is my formal write-up on it:

"Samuel Hahnemann finally happy in Paris, the world capitol of the time, at age 87 (1842, a period of history during which someone like him born in 1755 could expect to live 25 years and be lucky to reach age 40) just after having finished the monumental sixth edition of his magnum opus, the ORGANON OF MEDICINE. In a short note sent accompanying the photo (Daguerrograph) to Constantine Hering, M.D., the Father of American Homeopathy, Hahnemann wrote, 'It was a dark and drizzly day in Paris, and I was not feeling particularly well.' He had a cold. It’s absolutely hilarious to us.

"They knew the importance of lighting but didn’t yet have any way of measuring it. He was essentially on display in the front window of the shop and thus refused to again go through that indignity. It’s the only photo of the man and is one of my most treasured possessions. Photo courtesy of Arkana-Verlag, Heidelberg."

The next picture is Hahnemann in exile at Kothen, a little principality charged over by a duke who favored Hahnemann and was a man of honor who loved justice. Kothen/Cothen was torturous for him, though. He saw very few patients and could not leave for fear of imprisonment. Fortunately, he wrote extensively there, and it's some of his best and most important work, so logic tells us it was ordained for future humanity.

The next two pictures are my two most favorites among thousands. Both are by Paul Seurat, a pointalist during the late French Impressionist Era. Of importance about that period, the Father of French Impressionism was Erik Satie, a guy who penned some of the most amazingly beautiful piano pieces in existence, his work for hire being awful because he despised the rich and their pretenses of nobility.

The first work is Seurat's THE CIRCUS. It's busy with story line and is amazingly beautiful in the original work. I don't but briefly comment on art, so that's sufficient.

The next work is his SIDE SHOW. This is my favorite picture. Ask me why, and I'll ask you what the sound of one hand clapping is (a Zen question) before I slap you to the ground for asking stupid questions and thinking that beauty has an explanation. Hardly, Bubba. Of course, the most beautiful things in the universe to all men who're honest with themselves are beautiful female faces and forms, and those rank coeval with the faces and voices of all children. Who is surprised?

The next picture is my favorite image of our star, the Sun. That's a big subject and a favorite one I'm sure I'll never finish studying. One of the most interesting things found in arcane literature is the recurrent statement that our solar system's ArchAngelic Host reside on the Sun but on the 6th/ArchAngelic Plane where it ceases being a fire ball. Isn't that an amazing thought?

The last accessory picture is a head shot on profile of a spagyric physician. That was the most recent form of homeopathy in the Way Back Machine. The Jesuits murdered them in the persecutions of alchemy during the Inquisition, but they came into existence in the Polish Empire coincident with the sacking of Alexandria, Egypt, and the rampage that the Monophysite Christians engaged in throughout the Fertile Crescent for 150 years after beginning it in Alexandria in A.D. 393. That was the second of three burnings of the Library of Alexandria, by far the worst because those religious maniacs intentionally destroyed everything they found. The only reason some things remained to survive until the religious maniacs of Islam destroyed the rest of it was because scholars and their students rushed around the complex and spirited away what they could to safety. It's sad that the same religious fanaticism has resurrected itself today in both so-called "fundamentalist and charismatic" Christianity and the nonsense that passes for Islam and calls itself jihadi Islam (even though the word actually means to "struggle" for God), both of which only appeal to dangerously ignorant and servile fools. The Hermetic physicians, another group of old-world homeopaths, scattered in all directions after that most dolorous event at Alexandria, but the only ones who survived the murderous Monophysites of Pauline Christianity (as opposed to the legitimate Christians called Gnostics, whom they also murdered) were those who fled far north into the Polish Empire. I was probably last a spagyric physician because I immediately recognized homeopathy, but there's a minimum of 150 years between incarnations while we prepare for it and await a couple able to provide it or something close to that ideal, next-life's foundations. That's why I use that picture at the site I primarily post at for homeopathy and homeotherapeutics.

[Added July 5th 2011: I loaded two more photos and attempted loading half a dozen more, but the site didn’t like the format of the others and installed the two new ones in front of the others. I don’t like that because the order of importance is thereby skewed, so simply understand that the first two photos belong at the end.

[The first new photo, which actually loaded ahead of the next one I wanted up, is Raphael’s SCHOOL OF ATHENS. This is an extremely important picture in the history of humanity, so I will attempt to briefly explain why. He there imaged all of the brilliant Minds from Classical Greece spanning from the 6th century B.C. to about the 4th century A.D.

[There was no School of Athens; it’s just his title of this work. In actuality, all of those guys opened private schools of a sort as best they could. Essentially, that education was of the nature of preceptorships in a one-on-one relationship. We wouldn’t see formal education as known today until after World War II in the West. Amos Comenius was responsible for that in the 17th century. Essentially, he delivered the common sense to the world that everyone benefits from universal education. Unfortunately, we still don’t see his ideal because:

1. Mere academics (class-B thinkers, in total constituting fully 9% of incarnant humanity) dominate education and thus throw myriad half-truths and lies at us in the guise that it’s all true, and they do this seemingly endlessly generation after generation due to inherent flaws in scholasticism and in the present nature of the sciences and humanities. I’ll later address those insoluble problems with modern scholasticism in a pair of additions in which I quote Max Planck in the one and Ivar Zapp and George Erickson in the other, and I’ll address the hopelessly distorted nature of the sciences and humanities in my own words because it’s quite simple when one realizes that they’re all still geared around the triune philosophical paradigm of 1) philosophical materialism, 2) mechanism and 3) reductionism despite Max Planck having destroyed all of that in 1900.

2. There’s absolutely no sense in education costing a penny, and that includes living expenses. A mieutic (Socratic) question cometh: How could there possibly be too many scholars in the world? No, the morons we call our leaders hold differently as tools of the rich, and they all belong in Hell for it. Also,

3. Higher education fell under the control of God-damned lawyers (government) and the God-damned rich (industry) during World War II, and they’ve maintained that control since then. Consequently, colleges have become nothing more than glorified trade schools designed to pump out masses of engineers and computer geeks to serve industry. Anyone who seeks the real function of higher education (viz., the ability to think clearly and for oneself) will be nothing but dismayed by the masses of selfish morons and spoiled rich brats who populate modern-day campuses as both students and professors. We can’t fix that problem until we send all of our leaders back to Hell by installing the 9 specific Laws of Karma & Economy into our national charters, but I have no faith that the pitiful humanity we’ve seen for the last 5000 years will summon up sufficient courage and the sense of social justice necessary to change such horrors throughout our societies in all corners.

[The real importance of Raphael’s SCHOOL OF ATHENS doesn’t come to light until one understands what precipitated the Italian Renaissance. Don’t ask anyone on campuses this question, either, because they simply don’t know these secrets from arcane archives and from Islamic and Coptic archives. Ready, set, go.

[It all started in A.D. 427 at the Council of Ephesus in western Turkey. That’s sometimes called the 4th Ecumenical Council. There was no council, though. Its only function was to depose Nestorius from his throne as the last Gnostic Patriarch of Constantinople and thereby destroy the legitimate teachings of Christ on this Earth. The Pauline Christians did this and survive to this day as totally evil representations of what happens when you tell enough people half-truths and lies all of their lives and clothe it in mystical jargon designed to brainwash the masses.

[Of course, Nestorius was found guilty and sent into exile in the desert. The Pauline Christians of the period, called Monophysites, sent assassins after him who killed him. This all took place in Ephesus intentionally far from Constantinople because it was totally evil.

[Here’s where this connects to the Italian Renaissance a thousand years later. The Nestorians (the followers of Nestorius and the other legitimate Christians of the period) back in Constantinople saw this coming and quickly spirited away to safety as much of their literature as they could. They hid these rolls/scrolls under their robes and took them to safe houses throughout the city with the subterfuge of delivering the wine, cheese and bread they made. All the while, they were under close scrutiny of God-damned policemen (henchmen) under the charge of the God-damned Monophysites. There was no secrecy involved in this spying of them by the police, either. In fact, those mongrels were often within ten feet of these Saints and proto-Saints, called Nestorians. This went on day and night. Some of the stuff they saved were our Greek literary treasures, all of which the God-damned Pauline Christians otherwise destroyed.

[A miracle of sorts is hidden in these accounts that’s only perceptible with insight. Namely, the Nestorians knew when to cease this effort and split. News traveled slowly via sea and land in those days, so the question comes: How did they know when to leave? If you connect the dots, the only answer is that they were Saints and proto-Saints with controlled astral clairvoyance and thus telepathy and the ability to communicate with associates in Ephesus and discarnant Saints who were also overseeing those events.

[Another miracle of sorts is also found in these archives. They say the Nestorians caused the policemen to fall asleep just before making their escape. Only Saints can do this. The most famous example of this is found in the NEW TESTAMENT where the Master Jesus and other Masters also operating on the Mental Plane while inside the tomb caused the Roman guards outside to fall asleep. Jesus then reseized his brain three days after Christ gave it up on the Cross and he and other Masters repaired it; associates outside moved the disc-like stone; and Jesus walked out.

[The few Nestorians (accounts numbering them less than 10 men and women) split up in different directions in attempt to insure the survival of as much of their literature as possible. The only ones to survive the pursuing Monophysites made their way to the monastery and medical school at OEdessa (“Edessa”) in Syria. Generations of them copied their treasures until marauding Muslims overran the area in the 8th century of our calendar. Our ancient Greek literature thus wound up in Islamic libraries until the excellently cosmopolitan Moors of Spain passed them back to us in the 13th and 14th centuries of our calendar. Jewish and Christian scholars were the beneficiaries of this. That’s why Copernicus, a Polish monk, was the first person to pronounce on our solar system being heliocentric (“Sun-centered”). Mere academics attribute this to him, but Copernicus himself said he got it from Pythagoras.

[Incidentally, Pythagoras also spoke of black holes at the center of galaxies. It wasn’t until recently when this was discovered that scholars made sense of those statements. Of course, all of the Greek scientists and philosophers got all of their stuff from ancient Egyptian sages, so we don’t know who taught him these things. Likewise, it’s also important to understand that all of the Greek scientists demonstrated total lack of right discrimination by also studying under the God-damned Egyptian Priestcraft. What morons!

[Upshot cometh. The only reason we see these ancient Greek literary treasures today is because the Nestorians saved it and the Moors much later gave it back to us. The Pauline Christians were bewildered how to react to this because they thought they’d destroyed all of it. The key to tyranny is telling the masses endless lies and clothing it in mysticism. That’s Pauline Christianity in all its forms.

[So, Raphael represented these facts in his SCHOOL OF ATHENS. Good, huh?

[The other addition is a computer-generated image of the human DNA molecule. I find it gloriously beautiful and suspect this is universal.]

Special Note: The morons at Google Adds have seen fit to cycle an advertisement on my website for someone claiming to be a classical homeopath. No, I know who they are, and I know that a lot of people claim it. Wrongo, daddyo! There have been less than 100 of us in 220 years, and I know who they are today. Oops, there's yet another one of the pesky things. They breed them like flies and just as carelessly. A handy link to the world's actual Hahnemannians is the ZKH: http://www.medizinverlage.de/SID-DBF74E97-A5A0A76E/zeitschriften/09350853.html.

God bless!

------------------------

(December 16th 2010)

More Favorite Books: The STORY OF CIVILIZATION and the MANSIONS OF PHILOSOPHY by Will Durant, although the former leaves out a lot of importance because he knew nothing of arcane archives, and the latter requires a great many corrections and contains much to be simply ignored because he lacked higher philosophy while nonetheless having been an actual scholar rather than a mere academic. The writings of Scribes hiding in the sciences and humanities, whose assignments were to release particular information at specific times in fulfillment of ancient prophecies found in the Great Pyramid of Giza: Amos Comenius, the Father of Education; Shakespeare, the Father of English; Newton and Galileo, the dual Fathers of Classical Physics; Max Planck, the Father of Quantum Physics; John Dalton, the Father of Chemistry; Nicola Tesla, the Father of Alternating Current (AC) Electricity and thus the Father of the 20th Century; and Christian Fredrick Samuel Hahnemann, the Father of Homeopathy, the true Science of Medicine that God created at Creation by installing into the very fabric of space the fundamental forces of nature that drive and order the 10 Laws of Medicine, nine of which are specific to legitimate, real, true, pure, classical, Hahnemannian homeopathy. The arcane texts of the world‘s last formal Scribes of the seven remaining, open Brotherhoods of Saints (the five original having closed 21,000 years ago when everyone in them at Adept status when Mu went down 3000 years before achieved Mastership), each of which delivered its message through them over the last two centuries in fulfillment of ancient prophecies; and, always on the top because He‘s our solar system‘s Regent ArchAngel, real name Melki-Zadek (“Melchizedek” only when pronounced w/ the guttural Hebraic inflections): Christ’s few remaining words, including THE GNOSTIC GOSPELS even though that translator also botched many of them. What greater words are there than those? God help us if anyone believes there are. The most powerful and important statement in the BIBLE: “These things I do you shall also do, and greater things than these shall ye do.” He there told us He’s an ArchAngel and that we, too, will eventually go on to become Celestial Beings at the pinnacle of existence and then voluntarily surrender our very existence at the end of our Cycle of Time to become the stuff of the inanimate universe in the next one so that we sustain Creation without end. Are there indeed greater words than those? No way!

More Favorite Music: EUPHRATES, ANDALUSIAN NIGHTS, BUMBLEBEAT, DANCE WITH ME and DANZA DEL MANGO by Govi; I KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE, FOREVER AUTUMN, THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE and BLUE WORLD by The Moody Blues; TRANCE by Troika from SHAMAN; KIND, I CAN’T EXPLAIN, LIVING ON THE CEILING, DON’T TELL ME, BLIND VISION, THAT’S LOVE THAT IT IS and GAME ABOVE MY HEAD by Blancmange; THEME FROM HARRY’S GAME by Clannad; CHRISTIFORI’S DREAM by David Lanz; and LIE TO ME, STORIES OF OLD, IF YOU WANT, BLASPHEMOUS RUMORS and ENJOY THE SILENCE by Depeche Mode.

Along with those few additions among tens of thousands, I recently noticed having listed only one piece from The Moody Blues, and that one was from when I was a senior in high school in 1972. That's no good. My favorites from them stretch back to the very beginning, but my real favorites tend to begin with LONG DISTANCE VOYAGER and the music of Blue Jays because there‘s so much good music about the love between a man and woman in their post-theme albums, which ended with SEVENTH SOJOURN in 1972.

As odd as it may initially sound, I've been a Moody Blues man since I was a child. I first heard them on the radio in their initial hit, GO NOW, in 1966 at age 13. Their original keyboardist and drummer left the band; so, strictly speaking, that piece doesn't actually belong to the band as traditionally constituted, and it was the only piece worth listening to off of their first LP, anyway. Indeed, their subsequent music tends to all be good, and it stayed that way until they retired a few years ago. The boxed set titled TIME TRAVELER is all of their early work less -- if I remember correctly -- their last two CDs. In fact, anyone who doesn't love every piece on TIME TRAVELER needs to stay the hell away from me and stay headed for Hell.

The philosophical mistakes in some of their early music are perfectly understandable given the high idealism of the period and the poor understanding of the nature of existence by Mike Pinder, who wrote most of that krap, so I just accept it since I lived through that dark period of history but also had such high idealism. Most of those mistakes are on the CD titled IN SEARCH OF THE LOST CHORD and, again, were typically the mistakes of Mike Pinder, a very dumb and naive fool whose pieces were always the worst of a record. He thankfully finally left the band and was replaced by the excellent keyboardist from the band Yes.

I met my first proto-Saint as a consequence of calling myself a Moody Blues man on the first day of high school when the guy had everyone introduce themselves. This was when high school was still just three years, and it was thus in the 10th grade. I typically sat in the back corner near the windows so that I could babe watch across the isles and gaze outside whenever I wanted. School didn’t impress me, so it was a dreary day for me having to face going through it all over again. Having been a corner guy because of that, I was consequently the last person to speak. The other kids thought it was kinda funny that a kid of 14 would call himself a man, but it was clear that none of them knew this music, and it showed about all of them in their very superficial worldviews and ridiculous arrogance typical of idiotic teenagers. In my case, my best friend and I were sneaking into local college bars chasing real babes when we were 16 (age 18 having been the marker date) due to that distressing idiocy of all teenagers. His cool older brother provided us fake IDs and introduced us to friends and the bar tenders in the three bars, so we were in like Flint in Babe Land when we were just high school juniors. Happy memories.

Most people didn’t say hardly anything in their introductions within that first class on the first day of high school, and the gist of it from the guys was: “I’m Bubba, and I‘m a football moron“ or “I’m spoiled-rich boy and am going to be rich because my daddy says so.” Yeah, it shows, Bubba and mister future President, you jackasses. That was not, however, the only thing I said, and I ended it with a cute remark inviting a couple of beauties in the class to move to empty desks near me the next day. After several short conversations in the commons between classes, one of them did. Yeehaw!

While Bubba Braindead and the future tyrant and their buddies were chuckling at my having called myself a Moody Blues man, I noticed the instructor take notice of the expression with raised eyebrows and say, “Is that right.” After my cutsie remark to the two babes, he thus took me to task for the claim by having me explain it. I easily defended it with good rationales because I’d already known it for a year, but he caused me to further explain it at each step for the benefit of the class and to satisfy his own curiosity. He drilled me like that for more than 15 minutes and then explained in his own words for the rest of the class how important their music is. Needless to say, I was extremely impressed. In fact, the next several weeks -- the first days of class in high school -- were actually spent listening to some of the music of THE MOODY BLUES and analyzing their lyrics, but only he and I knew their meanings. It was mostly this one-on-one dialogue between me and him while the rest of the class listened on with an occasional feeble remark. It was an English class, but it didn’t occur to until later that this was a study of prose. I remember with pleasure that Bubba and his kind were very uncomfortable during those weeks, but that’s as it should be since there’s no excuse for parents having failed to teach their children how to love. I love my parents! A nice perk was that the babes in the classroom swooned, and I became known to all of their friends due to these discussions about The Moody Blues. Becoming a babe magnet from day one of high school is immeasurable to the fragile mentality of a teenaged boy, and I‘m still only comfortable in the company of beautiful women because most men still mindlessly admire Bubba and tyrants -- the morons.

Beyond that cool and groovy benefit without end in my most formative years, it was odd in the extreme for me to find a guy like that teaching. I‘d later learn that it was his first day of teaching other than as a student assistant who looked on, and I was exactly the kind of student he most wanted, although I only heard that years later when we were best friends.

That first day, he held me after class to get my phone number in order to -- unbeknownst to me -- ask my parents if he could tutor me after school for an hour or two every day. I didn't know this until later that night after my mom had agreed to it without asking me. I found out at the dinner table and threw a fit because it had all of the implications of me needing help as a dummy. That annoyed attitude, however, changed during the first such session, and it got nothing but better throughout the year. His only requirement was that I tell no one about it. That worked fine for me since I easily imagined myself being identified by the entire school as a moron. Unbeknownst to Bubba and his crowd (an old derogatory euphemism with me), I had been a star athlete for years as a pitcher and catcher in baseball, a quarterback in football and a fumbling white kid trying to play basketball, thus spanning the entire year. I'd also become a world-recognized child prodigy in drafting the previous year due to three years of perfecting it as a consequence of my avionics-expert father. Every other class meant nothing to me, and that had troubled my mother even though it had overjoyed my father since it looked to him as though I was going to follow in his footsteps and outdo him, something every ordinary father wants.

Indeed, I'd planned out my entire life by the time I was 14 years old due to winning a locally based but worldwide collegiate competition in industrial arts with two more points having been awarded to me than the competition measured (viz., 24 rather than 22 points). The aerospace engineers who judged it thought I'd go on to build spacecraft to Mars, it having been their notion that that's why we went to the Moon. It turned out, however, that the entire space race was a military endeavor to command the high ground over the Soviets, and there was never any intent to next go to Mars. My plans were fixed, anyway, and they didn't include becoming an engineer. It was all just a stepping stone into being a fighter pilot, and that was supposed to quickly next move me into commercial jets and then corporate jets at the top of the profession. If possible, I was actually going to retire by the year 2000 at age 45 with an extraordinary list of big toys with which to enjoy the rest of my life. The first was a P-51 Mustang. That’s the king of the air to any pilot. My father flew in B17s as a waist gunner during World War II, and he'd told me how perfect those planes are and how they repeatedly saved his life and the daylight bombing American crews were doing in preparation for the invasion of Europe, because P-51s were more than a match for the God-damned German fighters until they brought in their jets. P-51s were furthermore the only planes we had in the European theatre of operations with sufficient range to have escorted B17s and our other bombers into and out of Germany. I paid attention to my father’s stories, especially when we saw those beautiful planes in old movies, and I fell in love with the P-51. Again, it's still the best prop-driven plane in the entire world. My list also included an aerobatic plane I'd either design and build myself or modify to perfection. A sail plane was also on the list -- swoosh! -- as were two hot-air balloons so that my future wife and I could both enjoy lofting into the clouds. The most audacious element of my extraordinary list was a jet, specifically, an F-86 SaberJet from the Korean War. Little did I know that they’d all long been wasted as target drones by military morons.

Nonetheless, none of that was to be due to my near-death experience (NDE) the next year as a high school junior when my car made friends with a ditch on a rural road and my head made friends with the open-window door. The resultant migraines would later cause me to find homeopathy and cure myself. After I returned from death, the whole idea of the military and industry were fully spied as totally evil power structures; i.e., that high school English instructor had put the thought into my head, but it’s hard to change your whole perspective you‘d grown up with when it came from your father. So, I changed gears again and waited for my profession to come along, one in consonance with what I’d learned by dieing. That would be homeopathy, extraordinarily discovered seven years to the day after I died and reseized my brain.

I learned in my NDE that I’d died in my last lifetime in a flaming crash in a P-51 and had actually met my future father a few days before because he and his whole squadron had visited our base for a weekend of on- and off-base drinking and to thank us for saving their lives on a particularly difficult mission to bomb the God-damned ball-bearing factory at Swinefurt. Isn’t that amazing? However, I should explain that we regain our Egoic memories during an NDE and after we die, so it’s actually not at all untoward to learn such things. We do not, however, bring back the actual memories because the experience didn’t occur through the brain. We retain only impressional memories of such extraordinary details. The guy who was with me then, clearly a Master, didn’t explain that fact, so I was pissed beyond conception as soon as I regained brain consciousness and found it was all gone again. In any case, my father and his crew looked me up because I’d blown a Nazi to Hell who was swooping down on them in an often deadly dive. The Nazi plane and its pilot had already opened up on them with deadly cannon fire, but it spectacularly literally blew up in mid-air less than a thousand yards from them as his target. My father didn’t drink and singularly stood out as a very gentle and right-thinking, impressive man who also knew why we had to fight that war to save the whole world from unmitigated evil. He mostly talked about my future mother and the life he wanted for his children. I didn’t drink much, either, so he and I had isolated ourselves as oddballs among such crews. Among other things, he told me how she fell in love with him at first sight, how the war had interrupted their plans and how they were going to build a good life together if he survived the war. Despite constant lack of recognition and abusive pay by industry, my father somehow remained a gentle and good man the whole of his long life, dieing in the year 2000, fifteen years after my dear mother. Again, I actually met my future father just before I last died. I’m sure it was all meant to be, too, for I was headed nowhere as an air ace and the mindless and wayward thinking that produces. Isn’t that amazing? I should say that it’s usually a minimum of 150 years between incarnations (our average number of lifetimes being 2000-3000 with a few people having exceeded 5000) because it normally takes that long to study the failures of our previous life, to then prepare an ideal etheric energy pattern for the next body and then await a couple being able to provide that and an ideal early life for us and our karmic debts. However, I didn’t have to wait because my father and mother looked ideal to me the instant I died, so I chose the ovum and sperm and was a happy camper in a new life without all of that mucking about that’s normal for us.

My personal opinion is that my father missed his calling in this lifetime because he was clearly an Atlantean engineer in the Way Back Machine, those people having developed the flying saucers that ply our skies piloted by Saints using them as supply ships to their several secret world headquarters in remote regions of the Earth. Truth is truly stranger than fiction, Jethro. He knew how to build virtually everything and taught me all of it. For instance, although I’d moved out the second I turned 18, my home remained my home, and he was overjoyed when I brought home a Shelby 350GT I virtually stole for a mere $4000 (now worth $200k) during the Arab Oil Embargo. It was an actual race car that Carol Shelby put into production, and my dad knew it. In fact, he knew things about it I didn’t and loved driving it. I smile. It was a big mistake to not buy it back from the insurance company after a teenaged girl slammed into me at speed in an unmarked intersection while I was distracted, but I didn’t buy it back and fix it because I’d died in another muscle car four years earlier, and twice seemed like pushing my luck. In fact, I hit my head in exactly the same place and way in both accidents, and I was still suffering agonally from migraines due to the first accident. He didn’t understand because I once told them about my dieing and resizing my brain but astonishingly found them believing it impossible. “Sure thing, mom and dad, I lied to you about it. Believe whatever you want, but we will never talk about this again.” The expression near-death experience hadn’t yet been coined by Helen Kubler Ross, so I never told anybody what happened after making the mistake of doing so once and undergoing psychiatric evaluation due to it. Allopathic psychiatrists are still the worst of the lot of those self-admitted quacks (“therapeutic incompetents”) of Rationalist allopathic medicine, and it was good for me to discover it early because it helped to prepare me for recognizing homeopathy a few years later.

This complete collapse of my life’s plan had, however, actually begun the previous year in the hands of that Saint or proto-Saint English instructor. He was impressed by my drafting skills but rightly challenged any involvement with the military or industry. He showed me how and where Christ had condemned every power structure of our world as evils -- ongoing evils from dynastic Egypt, in fact. He collapsed the insanity of there being professional killers by simply pointing out how none would ever exist if every woman in the entire world withheld their sexual favors from all such fools. Isn’t that amazingly obvious? Why the power structures still exist is bewildering beyond conception because they’re all still wholly evil and vehicles of Hell. Nobody had bothered to explain that by quoting Christ about every power structure -- no doubt because nobody knew -- and every indication was and still is that almost nobody bothers to actually read what Christ said, so that fact will no doubt be foreign to the vast majority of readers of this since most people lack the clear and independent thought of class-A thinkers. Indeed, it’s endlessly shocking that Christ actually condemned 99% of incarnant humanity, because 90% (i.e., mere class-C thinkers) are the servile masses who mindlessly acquiesce to the existence of the 9% (mere class-B thinkers) they consider their leaders. Fools leading fools is an old story that will, however, eventually end right on schedule a thousand years from now with all 12 billion of the low-grade Egos in our 13-billion-member Human Life Wave find themselves locked up discarnant due to either stupid acceptance of embalming or due to exiting life as the God-damned rich who so adversely affect everyone else on Earth that they simply can’t live a sufficient number of lives to correct their negative karma (“carryover”) and thus are all doomed Souls. That’s why the Great Pyramid of Giza was built and why it’s on the back of the U.S. dollar bill, now seen by everyone alive just as intended.

Religion was a farce to me even at that early age, so this was a refreshing reinforcement of the high sense of social justice I don‘t remember never having. It was a major element of my personal philosophy being established by this guy when I learned Christ condemned both the government and industry and every other power structure of our times and back as far as stupid academics trace civilization -- something that arcane archives say and the remaining fragmentary archeological and linguistics evidence proves is actually 78,000 years old on our beautiful blue planet.

That high school English instructor suggested that I change gears away from drafting and the dead end it created and instead go after mastering architecture by studying Frank Lloyd Wright. That couldn't have been an accident since the drafting and architectural instructor I’d just met in high school was a total tool without any personal philosophy other than financial success through mindless servility. He was such an asshole that I never bothered to tell him that I'd won world acclaim in drafting the previous year in junior high school. I saw drafting as an art form, but he continually belittled my attention to detail and would constantly tell me to hurry up: “You’ll never be able to do this in industry.“ Oh yeah? Phook off! Then, every attempt I made to develop a working knowledge of the plans of Frank Lloyd Wright found that moron calling him and his plans “impractical." Of course, Frank Lloyd Wright had fancy derision to say about mongrels like him, and I once showed him those quotes. That infuriated him because he knew why I’d brought them to his attention. So, a year later in the middle of my senior year, I quickly ended my formal study of architecture under that ignorant monster.

Because I wouldn’t have known how to explain to my parents without insulting them, they never knew what had happened, and it was to them just like the enigma of me suddenly stopping playing sports. How do you explain such things to your parents, though? By that time, my father and I were in the deep downs due to the Vietnam War, so there was no point in adding fuel to the fire that was threatening to send me to Canada had the Draft not ended a mere 42 days before military monsters had demanded I submit myself for military induction to become a God-damned killer. I don’t think so, Bubba. I’d heard it three times before I realized I never again wanted to hear this monstrosity of social justice from my father: “When a man’s country calls, he goes, son.” OMG, what had happened to the man I’d so admired for so long that he didn’t know that Ho Chi Min and the Viet Cong had been our allies during World War II, that no Europeans or Americans had to fight in Southeast Asia because they were so effective against the Japanese, and that we’d promised them independence from the French after the war? No, we lied to them, too, and my father didn‘t know about any of it. The fact that these facts came from ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE only meant to him that they were suspect by coming from “God-damned hippies,“ and neither did it mean anything to him that President Dwight D. Eisenhower was the coiner of the expression “the military industrial complex.“ Little did he know that I was a hippie and had been one for years. My father had insulted me and denounced everything I’d come to believe in, and he did it in an inexcusable way by showing his colors as a God-damned servile, fascist American: “Right or wrong, I love my country!” Oh, yeah? Phook off! How come you haven’t read the CONSTITUTION, you dangerous moron? We thus simply stopped talking, and it distressed my mother to no end to not understand what had happened to me. “Well, you see, mom, I’ve learned Truth, and you two won’t understand.” How can you possibly say something like that to someone you dearly love more than life?

My English instructor had pointed out indicators that demonstrated Frank Lloyd Wright was an actual Saint. I knew nothing about that. To me, the Church assigned Sainthood. No, far from it; their Saints are all tools of Hell because Pauline Christianity is. The most famous indication of the Sainthood status of Frank Lloyd Wright was his uncanny ability to plan out his structures in his head over a period of time and to then finally put them down on paper with speed. His Falling Waters -- the most beautiful house in the entire world -- was one such demonstration. A rich man had commissioned a house on a lovely piece of property. The guy hadn't heard from Wright for quite some time, so he called. Wright told him the plans were ready for him. It was a lie. The man was three hours away. Wright thus sat down and produced all of the plans for the world's most beautiful house in three hours. It’s still an unspeakable tragedy that his best work, the mile-high skyscraper, continues to sit fallow despite the fact that it should have replaced the twin towers. We somehow can’t imagine a building that tall, but I’ve seen the plans and believe they’re sound. Such is the vast ignorance of Americans that they missed the opportunity to correct a great wrong with a miracle of engineering simply because they don‘t know anything of importance and wallow in total ignorance their entire lives.

Nicola Tesla did that, too. He was another Saint and forgotten genius. Tesla never produced a single drawing for any of his amazingly futuristic gizmos, and they all worked perfectly as soon as he turned them on. The last two of his vast works also sit fallow. One was a thought-reading device. Nobody knows what he worked out because no drawings showed it. The other one was even more audacious. He wanted to be able to move the Earth in space to avoid fast movers from the Asteroid Belt and Ort Cloud. He simply said that we should “put a band around the Earth and take advantage of the fact that it’s essentially nothing more than a gigantic electrical condenser and capacitor.” Nobody knows how it would have worked, but we’re going to have to figure it out to avoid the coming asteroid or comet in November 2998.

I will not hold my breath that humanity can cooperate on such a vast engineering endeavor despite what’s at stake, for God-damned billionaires and millionaires actually rule the world as an unseen oligarchy, and they won‘t cease to exist until each country installs the nine specific Laws of Karma & Economy into their national charters, in the U.S. as amendments to the CONSTITUTION:

1. No one may profit at the expense of another.
2. No one, nor the government, may take anything from a person or another nation by force.
3. All natural resources shall belong to the commonwealth of all citizens and shall not be owned by any person or corporation of persons.
4. Every Citizen is due equal education and the freedom to choose his vocation, and he has equal rights before the law.
5. All promotions shall be based only upon personal merit and proficiency.
6. Everyone must fully compensate for every personal possession he receives and hopes to retain.
7. No person, nor the government, may operate in the environment of another unless specifically requested to do so by that person. The government, however, may enforce the law in treasonable, criminal and civil suits.
8. No one may kill or injure another except in the defense of his life or his state.
9. The sanctity of the home is inviolate.

That won’t happen, though, for most people are total cowards and selfish in the extreme. Without the assistance of Higher Beings, the rich are all destined to become Black Mentalists (so called because their astral auras are so “ruddy” or murky red that it looks almost black -- those guys being personified evil to the max) who’re going to also lose their pitifully useless Souls at the universe-wide Progression of the Life Waves in 7000 years, and good riddance. Only fools envy the rich, and that‘s why Christ condemned them all to Hell.

That English instructor taught me history by explaining in detail what history teaches, most especially why things happened and repeat themselves with the same circumstances and a humanity that‘s ignorant of the lessons of the past. I remained mesmerized by every detail he taught about the past. He also taught me the gist of the sciences and many important details, and he pointed out how we're still in the tail end of the Dark Ages due to the stupid basic erroneous assumptions of mere school scientists leading to seemingly endless wrong conclusions, which is still going on. Nonetheless, the sciences also came alive for me due to that guy. Philosophy was an ever-present study because it's the key to all other subjects. The religions were dealt with in relatively short order at the beginning because they're all the products of the evil Priestcraft, each one of which destroyed the teachings of their parent oh-holy guy. We thus then concentrated on what each of those guys actually taught and why. It turns out that there weren’t very many of them, and they’re all amazing texts. He thus also corrected my developed hatred for religions by first reinforcing it but giving me to study the parent holy scripts to understand the actual appeal of each. Again, they’re all quite amazing once one extracts the half-truths and lies and the ridiculous sophistries of mere academics among the world's evil priesthoods. Among them, only Islam, Pauline Christianity and Sikhism are illegitimate teachings as products of mediumism by their parent morons.

Despite that fact, Islam is one of the most impressive cultures in the entire history of humanity, and it’s tragic that most Americans know nothing about the Golden Age of Islam. For instance, at its height, Islamic cities had the fewest number of police officers of any culture in history -- virtually none, in fact -- because Muslims are self-governed people with a set of high principles that govern them at the behest of God and conscience. We’re of course not talking about the fanatics found everywhere in Islam because so-called “revealed religions” that result from some moron hearing unseen voices are naturally subject to insanity when later fools also fail to perceive the fundamental mistake of that insanity. “Ah, yeah, God spoke to me, too. In fact, I have a personal relationship with Him.“ Sure thing, Bubba, but somebody should have told you that neither God, the Higher Beings nor even Saints ever do that because we’d never otherwise later know the source of such unseen voices. Unspeakably dangerous ignorance permeates low-grade Minds who’re unaware of the truths of existence, and such is our times. It’s furthermore no little amount significant that the most important statement by Thomas Paine, the actual Father of both “these united states of America” (an expression he coined) and the Republic of France, was: “A self-governed man is the key to civilization.“ It’s my favorite quote. Americans are pitifully patriarchal and servile, embracing the idiocy of an Apollonian worldview, and they thus insanely allow their rulers to attempt to legislate civilization into existence by regulating the minutiae of existence. We furthermore mindlessly allow ourselves to be ruled by God-damned lawyers and then wonder why there’s crime, corruption and social injustices in all quarters. “Kill all the lawyers!“ (Shakespeare)

I thus finally read the BIBLE beginning with the viable elements of the NEW TESTAMENT due to that guy and despite having been an acolyte for years. He‘d prove indispensable for years by explaining seeming anomalies in it. He taught me a great many things Christ meant in His very complex statements clothed in simplicity for simple Minds. Psychology also came to life in that year with the guy. The most important thing to be learned from psychology as one of the seven primary subjects is how we suffer conditioned-reflex brain reactions to words that distort reality when we have faulty definitions and other basic assumptions wrong about anything. That's Pavlov's work, but I’ve still yet to find anyone who understands the vastly important implications of it. “Oh, yeah, that’s the guy who rang a bell and made a dog drool. I wanna do that to babes.“ Sure thing, Bubba, so long as you go back to Hell. I’d later find that the vast majority of mere academics in all subjects of college are just plain useless idiots who grant useless degrees. Tell me you’re educated, and I’ll ask how you failed to be sufficiently learned to avoid being indoctrinated to half-truths and lies. Finally, he taught me art and an appreciation for the best of so-called "classical music." My favorites are still the extraordinary works by Erik Satie, the Father of French Impressionism and another Saint, his awful stuff having been produced for everyone who paid for it.

Due to that foundation, I still know more than most people due to that one guy and that one pivotal year that changed my life in youth, for my knowledge has only ever continually expanded due to not having to replace any falsehoods with the Truth. Most people instead exercise learned servility (i.e., blind obedience to authority) and just accept what they read and hear until they‘re hopelessly lost, and hardly anyone can spot the errors in something despite the fact that most subjects are suffused with endless falsehoods due to basic erroneous assumptions and premises underlying all of the stupid conclusions championed by the leaders in the various subjects.

Quite to the contrary, that English instructor taught me how to test all things and fit them into everything else. Unless a thing fits everything else, something’s wrong. Consequently, I thereafter never just accepted anything, and the criteria was always that it be good and true. Seven years later, I would discover that Hahnemann’s father had suffused him from childhood with that ancient axiom: “Hold only to what proves good and true.” We attribute it to Thales, the first Greek scientist, but all of them were students of Egyptian sages, so we don’t know its actual origin. Being able to think clearly and for oneself is both the key to knowledge and the expanding reward of it, and wisdom is impossible without both. It’s what the Hermetic Saint named Shakespeare meant by “An unexamined life [philosophy] is not worth living,” for that foolishness leads to untoward reincarnation restrictions due to wrong actions, which most especially includes misleading others. Everyone expresses their opinions, but it’s painfully clear that they’ve never thought them through and simply adopted them as follower fools. “Teacha tole me.” Sure thing, Bubba.

I only engaged in that tutoring for one year. It was a big mistake to turn down the renewed offer the next year. However, because I'd had my own very profitable businesses for years and actually from age 8, I could easily afford to buy my own car when I got licensed. Consequently, I thereafter visited the guy with regularity at his apartment for more instruction but more as a friend. I never took a class from him again but read everything he suggested. After my near-death experience soon into that next school year as a junior, he was a wealth of assistance to explain what I hadn't understood because I didn‘t bring back any of that knowledge, again, because it didn‘t happen through the brain. Within six months of that, I was finally able to reciprocate his efforts by giving him a copy of THE ULTIMATE FRONTIER (link: ). He continually thereafter insisted he hadn't read it, whereas I laid it on him asking why he hadn't had me read it. I believed him, but I would later learn from a formal Scribe of one of the arcane associations of Saints that such people are specifically precluded from even hinting at their Egoic advancement and arcane associations. Years later, I'd learn that this high school instructor was indeed a Saint from the moment I met him. How I learned is nobody else's business. He and I remained best friends until he died a seemingly premature death 20 years later.

That's the gist of my Moody Blues story. Again, if you don’t absolutely love their music, get the hell away from me and hurry along to Hell (the lower Astral Plane). You’ll find it populated with your heroes, and stay there this time. Everyone else,

God bless!

-------------------------------

Akhnaton on Woman

Be amazed!

"Give ear fair daughter of love
to the instructions of prudence
and let the precepts of Truth sink deep in thy heart;
so shall the charms of thy mind add lustre to the elegance of thy form;
and thy beauty, like the rose it resembleth,
shall retain its sweetness when its bloom is withered.

"In the spring of thy youth,
in the morning of thy days
when the eyes of men gaze on thee with delight
and nature whisperith in thine ear the meaning of their looks,
ah! hear with caution their seducing words,
guard well thy heart,
nor listen to their soft persuasions.

"Remember thou art man's reasonable companion,
not the slave of his passions;
the end of thy being is not merely to gratify his loose desire
but to assist him in the toils of life,
to soothe him with thy tenderness
and recompense his care with soft endearments.

"Who is she that winneth the heart of man,
that subdueth him to love and reignth in his heart?

"Lo! yonder she walketh in maiden sweetness
with innocence in her mind
and modesty in her cheek.

"Her hand seeketh employment,
her foot delighteth not in gadding abroad.

"She is clothed in neatness,
she is fed with temperance;
humility and meekness are as a crown of glory circling her head.
[Note: This was written in 1400 B.C. and fundamentally on another planet for how different the ancient Egyptians thought than us now.]

"On her tongue dwelleth music,
the sweetness of honey floweth from her lips.
[Note: He was the author of at least one of the PSALMS, although I forget which at the moment.]

"Decency is in all her words,
in her answers are mildness and truth.

"Submission and obedience are the lessons of her life,
and peace and happiness are her reward.

“Before her steps walketh prudence,
and virtue attendeth at her right hand.

“Her eye speaketh softness and love;
but discretion with a sceptre sitteth on her brow.

“The tongue of the licentious is dumb in her presence,
and awe of her virtue keepeth him silent.

“When scandal is busy
and the fame of her neighbour is tossed from tongue to tongue;
if charity and good nature open not her mouth,
the finger of silence resteth on her lip.

“Her breast is the mansion of goodness,
and therefore she suspecteth no evil in others.

“Happy were the man that should make her his wife;
happy the child that shall call her mother.

“She presideth in the house,
and there is peace;
she commandeth with judgment
and is obeyed.

“She riseth in the morning,
she considereth her affairs,
and appointeth to everyone their proper business.

“The care of her family is her whole delight,
to that alone she applieth her study;
and elegance with frugality is seen in her mansions.

“The prudence of her management is an honour to her husband,
and he heareth her praise with a secret delight.

“She informeth the minds of her children with wisdom,
she fashioneth their manners from the example of her own goodness.

“The word of her mouth is the law of their youth,
the motion of her eye commandeth their obedience.

“She speaketh and her servants fly;
she pointeth and the thing is done;
for the law of love is in their hearts,
and her kindness addeth wings to their feet.

“In prosperity she is not puffed up,
in adversity she healeth the wounds of fortune with patience.

“The troubles of her husband are alleviated by her counsels
and sweetened by her endearments;
he putteth his heart in her bosom and receiveth comfort.

“Happy is the man that hath made her his wife;
happy the child that calleth her mother.”




All peace, wisdom and love to the worthy.

----------------

Friday, July 15th 2011

I above mentioned a couple of additions when I talked about Raphael's SCHOOL OF ATHENS. Here they go.

Late in his life (he expired in 1947), Max Planck was asked why his revolutionary information putting meat into quantum physics still found people dismissing it. Here's his beautiful response:

“An important scientific innovation rarely makes its way by gradually winning over and converting its opponents. What does happen is that its opponents gradually die out [emphasis mine] [UCD = unnecessary comma deleted] and that the growing generation is familiarized with the ideas from the beginning.” (On New Discoveries, SCIENTIFIC AUTOBIOGRAPHY, published postumously © 1949, Max Planck (1858-1947).

The same issue was even better dealt w/ as follows by Ivar Zapp and George Erickson in ATLANTIS IN AMERICA (1998). The subject is the inherent and insoluble problems with modern scholasticism:

"The problem with nineteenth and twentieth century [nineteenth- and twentieth-century] scholarship has not been that students have not sufficiently [insufficiently] loved the truth, it has been that they have respected those peoples [people] in positions of authority more. [; it is that they have respected people in positions of authority more than they have respected the truth.] Scholarship has demanded that the work of students seeking higher degrees must not express ideas radically different from the published theories of those dispensing the degrees. Degrees are and have been issued on the basis of conformity and affirmation of taught principles. And since having a degree is useless without a job, it has been equally important for the young scholar to submit research that does not contradict those who control the jobs. To rise from a lower position to a more loftier [“more lofty” or “loftier,” one or the other] one[,] the academic must publish work that conforms to the theories and opinions of department heads. At a certain point[,] the academic has so much invested in conformity to existing principles that to repudiate them would be to repudiate his own life [life’s] work and that of his teachers and peers. Thus[,] the “half-baked” [UCD] though scholastically venerated [UCD] ideas of one generation of scholars becomes doctrine for the next generation of scholars . . . and so on. This system of confirmation of dogma has been called the “power principle,” but really it is [but it is really] the “knuckle under the authority principle.” It is a useful and expedient approach for acquisition of positions and eventually power within institutions but useless for apprehension of knowledge. Yet our “halls of knowledge”, [halls of knowledge,”] our universities, the museums they control [UCD] and academic authority itself [UCD] have all long suffered under this system."

The remaining issue to be discussed from above are the equally insoluble and inherent problems with modern science and the humanities. I said they have these problems because they are dependent upon and revolve around the triune paradigm of philosophical materialism, mechanism and reductionism. (I will discuss this when I find time.)

God bless!

[Additions: Sept. 9th 2011]

At Favorite Venues below, the site keeps killing what I’ve said there, so I move it here:

You show me, sweetie. Amaze me, and I'll amaze you. I know one place very special I'd show you. It’s a big world, though, so that would keep us very busy. You’re Mayan, so I want to show you some things.

At Favorite Music below, the site ridiculously wouldn't accept but a few words and, moreover, keeps killing what I’ve said there, so I move it here:

Mosaic, Morning in Martinique -- Eko; Hotel Luna, Suzanne Ciani; . . .

At Favorite DJs below, the site keeps killing what I’ve said there, so I move it here:

Those who stay the hell away from me.

At Favorite Movies below, the site keeps killing what I’ve said there, so I move it here:

OMG, what a good idea! Let's go to a movie.

At Favorite TV Shows below, the site keeps killing what I’ve said there, so I move it here:

I'll think about it. Don't hold your breath. Here’s a novel idea, though: Let’s watch TV together . . . OMG, in bed. (I repeat that this is directed to only one person. Everybody else leave us alone.) I do have one: The Rocky & Bullwinkle Show.

At Favorite Radio Stations below, the site keeps killing what I’ve said there, so I move it here:

Nightcrossings on Radio Kansas, but only the second hour tends to have their stuff worth listening to, albeit off the scale: http://www.radiokansas.org/listen.cfm. Restated, the second hour is the best radio program in the entire world.

At Favorite Books/Mag’s below, the site keeps killing what I’ve said there, so I move it here:

THE ULTIMATE FRONTIER (1982); ORGANON OF MEDICINE, 6th edition (1842, Kunzli et al. trans. from The Hahnemann Foundation, 1982); THE LESSER WRITINGS OF SAMUEL HAHNEMANN; Akhnaton's UNTO THEE I GRANT (the only book to recommend from that publisher); . . .

At Favorite Fashion Brands below, the site keeps killing what I’ve said there, so I move it here:

Sweetheart, that's cute, but life’s too short for such foolishness, and knowing that there are no incurable diseases doesn't allow me any such frivolous options. If you could cure, what else would you do? It's original with me, but it's known to us all.

Come to think of it, I do have one: Victoria's Secret. Who is surprised?

[End of additions on Sept. 9th 2011]

More Music: Loreena McKennett’s MASK AND MIRROR; THREE SISTERS, Eko; HOTEL LUNA, Suzanne Ciani; HANGIN' IN BABYLON, Eric Tingstad & Nancy Rumbel; YOU AND ME, The Moody Blues. Depeche Mode, I like, too; and that tells me lots about you I very much like -- yeehaw! MY BABY, BlancMange; also from them: THE DAY BEFORE YOU CAME, and HAPPY FAMILIES is also a good CD. Split Enz (Australian band), CONFLICTING EMOTIONS (CD). Lots and lots of good music.

Above at "Favorite Venues," this was cut off: "You’re Mayan, so I want to show you some things you’ve missed." They were amazing people. I like.

Above at "Favorite Fashion Brands", this was cut off: "Want to learn how to cure? You could do it." We can tell these things about people. Want a gift off the scale?

Above at "Personal Video Link," it wouldn't take this: "No, thank you. However, I absolutely love the one of you dancing in a bikini. What a babe fox! You make me drool. Wanna dance?" Smooch!

Above at the question that actually posts as "My type of person," the question asked was: "My type of person (What are you looking for in a . . . Soul Mate?)" That's a lot more powerful question, isn't it? My observation is that not one in a million people know what the phrase actually means, but I answered it that way. Better, huh?

[I loaded two more pictures and wrote about them here, but the site kicked me off for inactivity (i.e., I didn't save those texts as I went along) and thus ate the four hours of my life that it took me to write about them. I'll later find the time to restate all of that. The further problem is that the site loads new photos in front, so I'll have to adjust the following text. Too bad, but such is life.]

Thank you. God bless!

No Blog listed yet, Ask him to get started!


Post Your Comment


Would you like to comment?
Sign up for a free account, or sign in (if you're already a member)

Facebook Comment

Web Analytics