Sunday, April 23, 2017


Those of us who have not sold out to any particular ideology or guidance system offered by not-so-secret-societies (i.e., we who are “not of the body”) find ourselves highly frustrated and irritated. How in the world can we ever know the inner workings of so many competing not-so-secret-societies that are behind the machinations of the “deep state,” and that vie to distract us from ourselves?

Specifically, how do we sort through not-so-secret-societies to determine who-is-who and is leading us to what particular ends?  Here are the leading contenders:






—and how do the following players figure into this mish-mash?:
Intelligence and security agencies worldwide

neo-Nazis (the real National Socialists vs. the Swiss Octogon Templar variety vs. the Hollywood version)

Judaic supremacist extremist Zionists and neo-cons

the Vatican

New World Order corporatists

Pharaonic “blue blood” royalty

Even further down the poophole— consider these occultist groups:




adherents to Zen and the Tao

Satanists/ Luciferians

How can we know anything anymore with any degree of certainty? With moorings all but gone—education, religion, media, all replaced by propaganda—wherein we are more dependent than ever on the web to be able to discern truth from horse feathers—how do we know we know what we know is true and correct?

Maybe, to one degree or another, we are lemmings, sheep being continually led by the nose down one garden path to the next by not-so-secret-societies—even as we mock others for being asleep and gullible. That is, just when we think we really know what’s going on in the world and understand how the world really works, we suddenly must stop, second-guess ourselves, and re-assess what we believe to be real.

Perhaps we are in a consciousness cul-de-sac, chasing our tails as we churn amid consensual reality and culture trance. But describing things with such sexy catch-phrases does not fully explain things or offer a solution for busting out of a matrix that has been slyly engineered to keep human beings from self-realizing their immense power and sovereignty.

I have written off all leftists, i.e., liberals, the so-called “progressives.” They have a mental disorder induced by cultural Marxism. Yes, I waive off this whole leftist ideological spectrum. Dare I call myself a “conservative,” when that moniker has been co-opted by Republicans-in-name-only (RINOs)? Or a Libertarian, when there are just as many problems with that ideology as being an anarchist?

Probably the best description of my political self is that I believe in the time-tested, traditional values and mores to which humans have aspired since time immemorial. This is much more than “political”—it is a lifeway, as much spiritual as political; it is a consciousness that is trans-cultural and Truth-seeking; it embraces love, the Good and the Beautiful, while using laser-like mental faculties and deeply intuitive sensibilities to flesh out reality and to reject their antitheses. It stands for justice. It rejects political systems in preference to rule by those whose merits have been proven in the fire of experience as worthy, regardless of ruling form.
I am speaking of standing in solidarity with “indestructible Tradition,” which is defined and discussed by Julius Evola (1898-1974): A tradition instilled and practiced by an individual who, with the aid of organizations and institutions aligned with traditional civilization and society, realizes himself completely, defends the principal values he recognizes as his own, and structures his life in a clear and unambiguous way. Evola identifies the type of human being capable of “riding the tiger”—an individual who can transform destructive processes into inner liberation—and, in so doing, offers hope to those who wish to reembrace Tradition. Evola, J., Ride the tiger: A survival manual for the Aristocrats of the Soul, (trans. by Joscelyn Godwin and Constance Fontana, 2003, Inner Traditions; Rochester, VT); orig. pub. as Cavalcare la Tigre, ©1961-2000, Edizioni Mediterranee, Rome.

On the brink of overhwlem, I came across a website that looks very promising:  NOTE: “Former Jesuits” are involved. Might be problematic.

Go and see what’s offered there. Play their "Glass Bead Game." Citizen journalists can make a difference. As I wade into this milieu, I do so with the above overwhelm about how to know we know what we know is true and correct.

Saturday, April 15, 2017


Instead of looking to “bomb the shit” out of (((terrorists))), our fearless leader should take out the enablers who created, armed, funded and directed them. He need look no further than the unholy alliance of deep state American intelligence, Talmudic Israeli Mossad, the Wahhabist House of Saud, Qatar and Turkey. There are undoubtedly others, but these constitute the head of the viper.
The bombing of Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria and Yemen has enraged and hardened Muslims to hate the U.S. with a hyper-vengeance. They hate us for killing their families, their friends; they hate us for ruining their countries with depleted uranium that continues to mutate countless lives—and they hate our seemingly amoral secularized culture, represented easily by those shaved headed, wrap-around sunglass-wearing, techno-killers that have stalked their neighborhoods ever since the pretext of the 9-11 false flag operation gave them a green light.
It’s the easiest thing in the world for Talmudic-Wahhabist-corporatist servitors to capitalize on the pure hatred we have engendered in the Muslim world. Just offer Muslim malcontents refuge and hope that they can get their jihad on by channeling them into a private army of zealot-butchers. That’s what our rogue CIA had offered to the mujahedeen fighting the Soviets. (The CIA in fact originally built the tunnels in Afghanistan that the U.S. has just destroyed with its MOAB.) And the culprits named in the opening paragraph above have continued to nurture (((terrorism))) ever since, molding their “armed rebels” to whatever Zio-Sunni-petro-nation ends they choose.
Surely the intelligence that the White House gets is as good as any researcher can deduce from a discerning scan and read of certain websites, such as,, or even,, or  and .
So, Donald, fight the good fight by coming clean with the American people and the world. Don’t insult us by mouthing a lie about President Assad mounting a chemical attack on his own people—on “babies”—or Russia being complicit in such an inane and horrid hoax. Don’t betray the populist trust, especially in such a blatantly stupid way. Sure, attenuate invader immigration and go after jihadist scum masquerading as Muslims. But don’t fail to cut off the head of the viper that manages and controls them.
Supporters of the supposed anti-System president do not want to see you surrounded by neo-con con men creeps and their corrupted Pentagon groupies. Rid yourself of the vestigial corpus luteum that has surrounded the presidency at least since the time of Woodrow Wilson. Instead, embrace your natural inclination toward Jacksonian ways. Be tough out in the world, be rough but right; be intelligent about kicking ass—don’t be a Zio-cowboy pushing a Greater Israel agenda, wittingly or unwittingly.
On a simple, visceral level, one can judge your recent military adventurism by the winks and nods from those cultural Marxist Democrats and Establishment pimps that constitute the antithesis of the Trump revolution. Truly we must ask these morons: Why doth the heathen rage? However, don’t continue to be their fool or we all may be asking, “Why doth the Donald rage?
And while you’re at it (if the world can last), go out and attack the Federal Reserve System, Hitlery Pantsuit and all of the entrenched Obamacist traitors within the government (especially the Israeli-firsters)—get your family the hell out of the White House. Keep Steve Bannon by your side. Drain the Swamp and purge the American soil of anti-populist globalist goblins. Stop your f***ing around, dude, and stick to your campaign promises; build upon the profile you model of the new rugged individual!

Friday, April 7, 2017

DONALD, WE HARDLY KNEW YE ('til you wacked Syria)

Donald Trump had my support from the get-go—in spite of his impoverished vocabulary and lackluster oratorical skills. When he won the presidential election there was an immense sigh of relief that at least Hitlery Pantsuit had been put down. And as he ascended the throne, amid the crude cacophony of leftist name-calling and an unremitting gnashing of teeth (then and ever since), I felt vindicated but pissed by the outrageous disrespect and lies hurled at our new fearless leader—the first since JFK to buck of the System whole hog.
On April 6, with the barrage of Tomahawk missiles fired upon Syria, that support of Trump has fizzled. I was fine with his treatment of our neighbors to the south and north, but was already questioning his foreign policy leadership on a number of overseas fronts, namely:
1.      His appointment of Ms. Haley as another Russian-bashing, distastefully impolitic ambassador to the U.N.;
2.      His remarks about Russia coming to its senses and “returning Crimea”;
3.      His continuation of the provocative NATO build-up of troops in Poland and the Balkans;
4.      His siding with Wahhabist Saudi Arabia over Shia Yemen and Iran and a Shia-leaning, more tolerant, Alawite sect of Islam to which President Bashar al-Assad of Syria professes his faith;
5.      His very public saber-rattling and sanctions against Iran seems right out of the Israeli-Mossad playbook; and
6.      The aggressive ex-generals he has put in charge of everything from domestic intelligence to the Defense Department seem hell-bent on waging endless Neo-con falsities, wars, and continuing foreign entanglements.
This latest false flag chemical gas attack seemingly was swallowed by Trump and his war-hawks hook, line and sinker. What proof did they provide to the American people that Assad was in fact behind this dastardly deed? And now Trump has done an about-face on Syria; by illegally and unconstitutionally interfering in the affairs of that sovereign nation—something he formerly condemned Obama for doing—he has begun a conflagration that cannot end well.
Long-suffering Syria was just now coming close to peace and stability. With the strategic help of Russia, the terrorist proxies were being extinguished there by its duly elected and popularly supported President Assad and the patriotic troops loyal to the Syrian government. Any clear-thinking person would be dubious about an “Assad-assisted chemical attack” that would risk all of the hard-won gains made so far in the war against the horrid scourge of these proxy terrorist groups plaguing his people (and driving them into Western Europe with the generous help of Soros-funded groups).
Trump has committed a grievous wrong. He has violated international law and has now emboldened the terrorist proxies in Syria. Worse, he has played into the hands of the war-profiteering corporate elite and Judaic supremacist extremists with their expansionist agenda for a “Greater Israel” in the Middle East.
My Christian grandparents emigrated from Lebanon at the turn of the 20th Century. They had the foresight to see the handwriting on the wall even before the founding of the modern criminal state of Israel further fanned the flames of religious, sectarian hatred.
Donald Trump is relying on those Zio-Jews who are close to him in his family and who are rampant throughout his administration to concoct a foreign policy that is Israel-first and America-last. This is a betrayal of Trump’s America-first promise to We the People and a complete abandonment of the Founding Father’s warning to steer clear of foreign entanglements.
Like many other Trump supporters, I have been patiently waiting for Trump to “drain the swamp” of those who do not have the best interests of the country as their prime directive. Mostly this means careerist Zio-bureaucrats and their leftist and phony conservative stooge servitors embedded throughout the government of the United States. Instead of ranting on Twitter about the fake news and other distracting nuisances, how about taking some strong, deliberate action where it really counts: CLEAN HOUSE in the State Department, the Defense Department, the Justice Department, EPA, the FBI, CIA, NSA, and so on, so that the same Systemic cronies are not leading the country astray, as has been the case throughout the Bush-Clinton-Obama years.
As things stand today, I have gone from being a supporter of President Trump to feeling absolutely ambivalent toward a figurehead who has duped himself, and worse—denied the People—of a president of integrity and independence who embodies true American leadership. Wise up soon, Donald Trump, or end up on the trash heap of history where others end up who have been misguided by elitist, plutocratic, Rothschildean, anti-populist, occult-Luciferian, pedophiliac, blackmailing puppet-masters.    
Jack Suss aka Wyman Wicket, ,
examines and questions the world’s artificial constructs, seeking out those individuals and entities who are non-aligned with the System (i.e., not fatally compromised or co-opted into false consciousness). Recently he has published an intellectual autobiography of his last 25 years, Plight of the Cultural Mutant; and two thought-bomb, sci-fi tales: 23 Skiddoo—Way Back Beyond Across the Stars (2016) and Time Tweaking (2017).


In Wicket’s second thought-bomb sci-fi tale, two red pill compatriots plumb the noospheric depths. Sam Whent, the protaganist, travels to Thailand to enlist the support of his more tech-savvy friend, Bill Mansard, who has retired there. Together they build a time-travel helmet that facilitates their ability to astral travel to the akashic record, the “repository of all that has come before.”
Sam’s journal documents the misadventures of his six-week Thai daze. And as their stress builds, these two friends take refuge in the calming balm copiously offered there by the fairer sex. Both prurient and astral activities give rise to reflective digressions by Sam as the duo slogs through the trenches together.

The lads find that they can actually insert themselves into the akashic record, sometimes in a most lascivious manner. They then devise a plan to intervene and tweak unfolding past events so as to “back-formulate” history, hoping to bring about a better future—i.e., a world that has not hi-jacked and robbed humanity of its optimal potential. These amateur inner space explorers find out the hard way that they can change but not quite control the course of history—that’s a job long dominated by professional controllers (as Sam knows all too well).

Yes, two horn-dog, red pill compatriots invent a time travel helmet. The wearer is able to easily untether his astral body and direct it to any historical event in the akashic record. Their hope is to tweak a crucial point in history that will have a far-reaching future effect. By so doing they seek to rid the planet of a depraved neo-Marxism that has degenerated the West in the guise of a “progressive,” globalist, NWO con game of open borders, “diversity and multiculturalism,” and political correctness. But dangers lurk in the noosphere and in unintended consequences of their “time tweaking.”

Thursday, September 17, 2015

23 Skiddoo: Way Back Beyond Across the Stars

486 pgs.     
Published:  May 5, 2016 
Available as an ebook, paperback or hardcover:
Genre: Hybrid 
MetaPolitical Non-Fiction (in the guise of a) Thought-Bomb Sci-Fi Thriller
 Copyright © 2016 by Wyman Wicket

The lamp of reason does not dictate but serves three characters, who fall in together by happenstance. Each of the characters has waded into the cesspool of cowardly parasitism known as the System, comprised of Establishment and anti-Establishment. A rag-tag alliance unfolds that lays open the secret strength of the material world and the powers of a bodiless inner world; subconscious life-forces and supra-conscious spirit-forces illuminate reciprocal dimensions and set them to work; reality is a diabolic lie disseminated by (generally well-paid) half-wits, and the protagonists attack its self-imposed limitations, its exploitation of its own conscious debility that passes for virtue.  Thanatos is the elixir drunk by Earthlings unaware of their own deadened state. As bringers of eros (and as Muses for post-modernist truth-tellers), extraterrestrials are most unwelcome on planet Earth. The ruling globalist gang of bureaucrats has turned the planet into a dehumanization project. Celestial, agape forces are called upon to battle an Illuminati-type agenda. Our protagonists are the antiheroic heroes whose abnormative tickles are the impetus for unhinging the planetary chaos of an obsolete and dangerous consciousness; revolutionary cultural mutants who arm the masses with creative and imaginal thought-bombs.
Sos, the main sleuth/protagonist, inhabits a worldview with neo-primitivist propensities laced with inklings of aliens and an abiding sense that “everything fits together.” He is a supernaturalist and the aliens are symptomatic of that supernaturalism. Of course, there are some real aliens in play, so his intuitions are somewhat on the mark.
Next is Ex, a hyper-naturalist and nihilist that one might construct after reading the book Nihil Unbound. Everything has already happened and everyone is always already dead. There is merely the endless churning of matter, and mind is no more than an epiphenomenon, the echo of the last door closing in an empty amphitheater. But Ex is also something of a postmodernist, and even a dead man needs to make a living. So he designs worldviews for the hapless masses. Styling himself as something of a charismatic sociopath (along the lines of those who manage the present apocalypse) he cynically crafts worldviews like exotic flowers to adorn the hair and “heads” of the dead. He assumes all worldviews revolve on a fundamental denial of the fact that we are all already dead, perky zombies unable to face our own rank decay. In any case, he comes into contact with Sos, who needs help tweaking his own worldview and is writing a book on the subject, and who also wants to connect with others who think “outside the paradox box,” i.e., people who might come seeking Ex’s epistemological expertise—and the adventures begin.
A third sleuth, Ivan, is a hold-over Russian spy who went rogue after the fall of the USSR. He is a Marxist at heart, still committed to proletarian revolution, and is also an anthropological architect who has built up an intricate network of organizations to serve his spying—an insane asylum, a few cults, a prostitution ring, an ecstasy dispensary, and a hash den in the LA suburbs. Indeed, both the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service and the CIA would like to eliminate him, but they have a scant understanding of his organizations or his whereabouts. Ivan’s work as a seasoned, master spy, has also brought him in contact with real aliens. They consider him to be the da Vinci of social constructs among Earthlings and even occasionally employ him to help them craft various Illuminati red herrings and so on. Ivan, in turn, consults occasionally with Ex to get worldview ideas for his constructions. Ivan enjoys a tactical advantage due to the fact that he has been genetically altered and has a certain capacity to reshape his appearance.
23 Skiddoo: Way Back Beyond Across the Stars chronicles one crazy, long, hot summer in the life of Nathaniel Sos—a scruffy, beach-loving searcher for secret knowledge—as he rubs up against two worlds: one that hates, misconstrues or suspects him, and another that loves, guides and supports him. With the impetus of a special patron, Sos sets out to write The Cultural Mutant’s Guide to Consensual Reality and Culture Trance. In so doing he draws on his vast reservoir of prior research and writing. But a chance encounter puts him squarely in the center of an ultra-secret project and on the radar of intelligence agencies.
 At the behest of Sos’ benefactor, Ex and Ivan join forces with Sos and they metasticize into social terrorists in a world gone bland. They are, of course, a provocation to the System—a System that Sos is forever critiquing. Ex finds Sos’s critiques more palpable and more reliable than most of his clients’ worldviews; Ivan helps by guiding, in appropriate directions, Sos’ haphazard and self-choreographed way forward.
This rag-tag “team” of sleuths, aided by extraterrestrial and celestial advisors, arm Sos with the requisite knowledge, wisdom and confidence to negotiate his way clear of difficulties. In the process, our main protagonist is initiated into esoteric realms he had long intuited but, until now, was unable to confirm, access, and explore.
This is the story of a would-be sufi—a stumblebum and bluesman—a lovable sub-genius[1]—whose reverence for authentic experience, Jimi Hendrix, Love, Truth and Liberty, drive his dedication to debugging the big questions.
Through social critique, 23 Skiddoo riffs on the oppressive efforts of a parasitical, controlling elite to keep the world’s mind-controlled citizen-serfs in a perpetual state of “dissociation.”[2] In the book’s semiotic jumble of deduction, inference, parable, metaphor, and lucid dreamscapes, one may detect a new consciousness beginning to bud and blossom. This consciousness is steeped in tradition and adaptive to current circumstances; it is nothing short of a tapping into that flow of universal “juice”—a spiritual life force having the capacity to help us recall our true human potential, transform us, and release humanity from this prison planet, as it reaches way back beyond across the stars in its originary creative power. And yes, our scruffy protagonist finally gets a publishing deal and lots more in the bargain.

   When it comes to the conspiratorial worldview of history and current events, there are essentially three types of people:

(1) the true believer, who has read and researched much, is surprised by very little, and is sometimes accepting of more than sound reason and limited experience dictate;

(2) the absolute skeptic, who has no time for such inane, paranoid ramblings, believing them to be a diatribe of utter nonsense, and who has no patience to entertain anything of the sort; and

(3) the “well-rutted” worker-bee who is too distracted “making a living” and knows nothing of “hidden truth and forbidden knowledge,” but whose mind is open to pondering the imponderable taboos associated with any and all enigmas.
Particularly in the earlier chapters (and here and there throughout the book), our main protagonist tends to rage on in an occasionally sophomoric, diatribe style that is fairly typical of many who research and immerse themselves in the conspiratorial worldview. Some readers will require more patience than others to abide his rants. For example, a true believer might get bored or picayune about some of the arguments; the absolute skeptic will likely find it to be anathema and quit reading; and the busy person of established routine who knows nothing of these matters will probably find it somewhere between curious and dazzling.
The social critiques herein range from simple common sense to edgy complexity; the sentiments expressed are representative of the frustrating overwhelm and “tail-chasing” that go on in attempting to unravel the intricate web of deception that has been woven over and around us. The challenge is in using the “dissociated self” to analyze, articulate, and come to grips with the machinations of control systems. Those systems have been and continue to be the root cause of that dissociation, enabled via the mind-control of propaganda, with its constant barrage of disinformation. And so, this heuristic technique of immersion in the context is helpful to truly apprehend the conundrum of the researcher—to stand-in the-shoes of such folks who have only a partial or incomplete knowledge of an immense subject matter because they operate from a distinctly disadvantaged (viz., dissociated) condition.

[1]  Official Website of The Church of the SubGenius,™ Maintained by The SubGenius™ Foundation, Inc. in the name of J.R. “Bob” Dobbs–High Epopt & Living Slack Master. (n.d.).
[2] “Dissociation” might be thought of as a disabling condition of a psyche enthralled by its own deficient consciousness; or in consciousness theorist Jean Gebser’s terminology, possibilities for transparency (spiritual diaphaneity) remain in latency, so that a demonstrable presence of the future cannot fully unfold.

Friday, August 7, 2015

Plight of the Cultural Mutant

Autobiographical Literary Compilation/
Subversive Non-Fiction 
 Copyright © 2017 by Jack Suss (aka Wyman Wicket)
       What is considered mutant today was more the norm of yesteryear; the values of today’s mutant are actually steeped in the time-tested lifeways of tradition, while today’s normative dweeb snubs tradition in favor of “anything goes” (a vacuous and self-absorbed automaton reveling in an artificially enchanted, materialist universe).      
       As one whose feet are firmly planted on this Earth, I cannot identify with a planet steeped in lies, fraud and false consciousness; and as a natural-born American I do not pledge allegiance to a USA, Inc. that has been instrumental in steering the world along this self-same, doomed path.
       Thus, I am a cultural mutant; I cannot and will not bend and subscribe to what consensual reality and culture trance demand of me.

Extract from The Cultural Mutant’s
Guide to Consensual Reality and Culture Trance,
by Nathaniel Sos, the protagonist in 23 Skiddoo

       The cultural mutant somehow missed out on being or becoming a part of the neo-American dream: the techno-modernist vision, the triumphalist society, a person capable of easily identifying with the vapid, false consciousness of the age.  Society revels in its self-referent, solipsistic definition of success: its self-absorbed, materialist consensual reality and a culture trance that lulls ill-informed citizenry into complacency via rampant consumerism and an occult mind control.  The cultural mutant bemoans the decline of the authentic and agitates against the cultural Marxist, self-hating white liberal podunks whose politically correct rhetoric gets thrown in one’s face.
       Follow the plight of this writer and accomplished blues piano player/singer, whose  study of law and esoteric subjects (e.g., consciousness, Spirit, secret knowledge), provide a template for engaging the world, for framing reality, but are not areas that translate easily, if at all, into money-making enterprises.
       But hey! Stop for a moment and consider the very nature of money and finance in the modern world:  the ubiquitous  Rothschild banking dynasty that controls the whole usurious System (e.g., the private, central bank cabal known as the Federal Reserve that creates money out of thin air, viz., by “fiat,” and then uses fractional reserve banking to charge interest on money that it never really “owned and loaned” in the first place). And flowing from this are the many, Hydra-headed corporations, think tanks, universities and professions whose participation in the System has seduced them into the same, Luciferian, materialist world of false consciousness and faux reality known as “progressive modernism.” Non merci!
       There is no comfort, safety and security for this cultural mutant—only his plight.
The Federal Reserve is in the business of counterfeiting money.

The mainstream media is in the business of counterfeiting news.

The pharmaceutical industry is in the business of counterfeiting medicine (Biopracy! They are stealing molecules from nature then counterfeiting their own patented variations.)

The medical schools are in the business of counterfeiting medical degrees. (When a doctor graduates from medical school, he still knows virtually nothing about nutrition.)

Doctors are in the business of counterfeiting false medical authority.

The mega-sized food corporations are in the business of counterfeiting food. (Processed cheese food product, anyone?)

The global consumer product companies are in the business of manufacturing counterfeit consumer products such as “baby oil” (which is really a petroleum product).

Social networks like Facebook are in the business of counterfeiting friends. (Please LIKE this article, okay?)

Cookie-cutter home builders are in the business of constructing counterfeit homes out of plywood, styrofoam and sheetrock… many these homes will not be standing in just 20 years.

Local city councils are in the business of counterfeiting power. (Obey or be punished!)

Public schools are in the business of counterfeiting school diplomas. (Huh? What? Who needs to learn how to write, anyway?)

The Pentagon is in the business of counterfeiting war. (Don’t have a war to fight? Bomb the World Trade Center and blame it on someone!)

Mainstream historians are in the business of counterfeiting history. (Everything you were taught about history in public school is a lie…)

The globalist banksters are in the business of counterfeiting debt. (You thought it was money, didn’t ya? But it’s really just debt.)

                   Mike Adams, Natural News  9/2/11

       Ah, but this cultural mutant author exhorts one and all – “take no guff and keep your sense of humor at all costs!”:

“Awaken, oh human beans! Be Not Content. Do not despair. Arise! Walk tall, immortal souls!” 


My Plight......1
That Old Woods......9
Tales from Arabian Days......10
The Ballad of a Disgruntled St. John’s Student (or, Did I Do So Badly In My First Semester?)......19
A Fractured Neo-Platonic Fable......24
Reflections on The Evolution of Consciousness ......35
Howl Reborn (or The Effect of Consensual Reality and Culture Trance on the Evolution of Human Consciousness)......56
Decolonizing History, Recolonizing the Academy: Lusting After the Things that Oppress Us......65
My Ayahuasca Conference Experience: Shamanism, Science, and Spirituality......77 
Dissociatives Anonymous......85
Underdog Reaction to Attacks on America......91
A Meeting with Morris Berman (or How I Got Up My Get-Up-and-Go)...93
SUV for Sale......97
The Real Culprit: Corpocracy......98
Evidence Mounting for Armchair Revolution: Ambivalent Couch Potatoes Mobilizing......102
Corpocracy’s Designs Still Off the Radar Screens of Public Policy Makers ......104
Civics Test For Those Wishing To Be President of the United States......106
Don’t Vote For Archie or Jughead......109
Legal Brief....110
Transforming Human Systems: The Values of Originary Custom, Integral Consciousness, and a New Epistemological Framing of Language......111
Eco-Community Land Trusts Holding Title as Corporations Sole: Organizing the Global Ecovillage Movement into a Network of Semi-Autonomous Zones......118
Stubby Knuckles......124
Fact Finding......127
The Weird Task Specialist......128
The Undercover Chauffeur......133
Jack, the Truck Driving Man......137
23 Skiddoo......150
A Coat of Arms for Friendship Heights......153

Sunday, May 31, 2015


NOTE: This editorial is solely the opinion of the author, and does not purport to reflect the views of those associated with the Chesapeake Film Festival. 
As those who know, know, there is a "homosexual agenda" that seeks to normalize homosexuality so that it is not only tolerated but made legitimate in mainstream Western law, culture and society.  To do this, mainstream media has been enlisted as a propaganda tool to convince the population that this type of sexuality should be embraced and accepted; that homosexuals should have rights and they should be permitted the same state recognition as heterosexuals in marriage, etc. It seems that the manufacturing of this public opinion and a strong homosexual lobby is actually turning the tide.  The U.S. Supreme Court appears to be on the verge of legally recognizing and countenancing homosexual marriage. And the "cultural Marxist thought police" have done a masterful job, as usual, of making it politically incorrect to challenge the homosexual agenda. 

The mainstream media also would have the people think that most of the population is supportive of the homosexual agenda. I believe this is highly over-blown. Still, many liberals (and even so-called conservatives) have taken up the torch and have bought into its acceptance. But this sort of mass brainwashing and socio-cultural conditioning is nothing new. It goes on all the time.  An unholy alliance of business and government, that many have dubbed the "cryptocracy," has perfected such campaigns since at least the early 20th Century, following the work of Edward Bernays (a nephew of Sigmund Freud; See, The homosexual agenda is just one prong in a multi-pronged attack on Western society, and Americans, in particular. The purpose is to systematically dismantle and destroy the traditional values that have stood as a bulwark against those forces who would weaken the moral fabric of peoples everywhere in order to manipulate, overcome, control, and ultimately enslave them to a "nanny government" that is diametrically opposed to a strict constitutionalism meant to protect We the People from this very thing. These are the same forces who rally for gun control, the last protection against a tyrannical and out-of-control government. 

On the Eastern Shore of Maryland there still exist folks who reject the notion of nanny government and stand up for a rugged individualism as the sovereign source that first created the institution of government.  When government fails to serve and starts to dictate, through a socio-cultural proxy, what values we should accept, it is time to take a hard look and to challenge such a monolithic, hydra-headed monster.

No, merci!  -- as Gerard Depardieu cried out in Cyrano de Bergerac.  The homosexual agenda is part and parcel of the same force that would destroy us as a People. That force's other campaigns have done a fairly effective job of ruining education, industry, our money, our food, government, medicine, law -- just about everything. If you don't think so, I'd say you are quite out-of-touch with what is really going on.  

And so, I for one, do not wish to be a part of that very agenda that is so corrosive to us as a People.  Folks are welcome to have their own views, certainly.  But do not, for an instant, in my presence attempt to make light of the effect the homosexual agenda is having on society. I am certainly no prude. I don't pretend that homosexuality does not exist. I simply do not want it thrust in my face in a way that seeks to normalize it. Homosexual scenes, if they must be in films,  can be done in a way that allow the viewing audience to infer what is taking place, off-stage (so to speak).  If done less offensively I don't necessarily object.  Neither do I object if homosexuality is portrayed in a way that does not highlight the sexuality of homosexual behavior, as in the short (presented by the 2015 Chesapeake Film Festival), Misconception.  But when a film tries to portray homosexuality as OK, I cannot countenance that.  I am not "phobic" -- I am not bigoted against individuals who choose to be homosexual -- I simply object to their "alternative" lifestyle being flaunted and made to seem "normal."

As a board member of the CFF and as a programming committee member I feel obliged to live the values in which I believe. I think a good number of folks in and around Easton, MD still cherish those traditional values that have well-served the human family over many, many years. And so this is why I take this stance.  Other film festivals may be more accepting.  But if they are, as far as I'm concerned they are doing so out of ignorance of the bit part they are actually playing in a greater agenda that makes them unwitting surrogates of that agenda.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015


Having re-read the prior posts about my trucking odyssey[1], I offer some overlooked events, observations, and concluding reflections.

On May 13, 2015 I turned in my electric blue 2014 Kenworth T-680, scrubbed and cleaned, inside and out.  I shined up the chrome and wheel rims with Busch’s.  Busch’s takes off tar and bugs with ease, as well as the dull film of oxidation, leaving the chrome and the brushed aluminum wheel rims gleaming. On the road, Busch’s can only be found at Pilot truck stops (for $20 a pop).

So now the tractor is a clean machine, but it is only a machine, a “dead” thing (as opposed to, say, a horse).  Without periodic maintenance and repair machines break down.  For example, fuel filters needs to be changed regularly. On my truck there was a see-through glass container holding one of two fuel filters. You could see the filter floating there in a certain amount of diesel fuel.  Ideally, the fluid level should be near the bottom of the filter. If the fluid is close to the top of the container it means that the filter is plugged and it must be replaced.  You’ll know if you have a plugged up fuel filter because you lose a significant amount of power – the truck will hardly be able to climb even the slightest incline.

Every pay period a small percentage of my pay went into a “maintenance account.”  You are able to draw on this account once you get to a service garage.  In the truck world, this means a TA, Petro or Sapp Bros. truck stop, or a Speedco. (Loves provides a limited tire service.  Forget Pilot and Flying J; in this sense you might say that these are not real truck stops, just fuel, shit & shower depots.)  Of course there still exist independent truck and trailer repair facilities.  But, not surprisingly, one big corporate entity prefers to deal with another big corporate entity. 

An oil change costs somewhere between $200-$300 and is usually combined with changing the fuel filters, another $150-$175.  During the year I had to have this done twice.  I also had to replace one of my drive tires.  A new tire can run you $750 or more (not an off-brand or re-tread).  And I replaced my two steer tires, which I think cost me $950 for both.  The air filters have to be changed too, another $150 or so.  And there is an annual motor vehicle inspection that must be performed, $65-$75.  Of course you have to have a supply of grease on hand to keep your fifth wheel lubed up. About once every week or two, you perform the ritual by scraping off the old, dirt laden grease, then apply new grease.  (This was a learn-as-you-go lesson.)

Inside the cab of the tractor I had a converter to be able to plug things in that require AC power.  I made the mistake of plugging in a rice cooker that drew 500 watts.  It blew the converter.  Luckily it was under warranty but I was still charged for labor to reinstall a new one.  I managed to find another, lower-watt rice cooker and even a crock pot that worked like a dream.  I would load up the crock pot with some meat, onions, garlic, and one bottle of water, switch it on, and head out. (Much later I would add stuff like  carrots and potatoes so they wouldn't over-cook.) It would slow-cook all day and be ready when I stopped driving. The rice cooker had a steamer in it and I could really eat like a king – King Chef of the Road – squash and broccoli and brussel sprouts.  My wife would whip up some savory sauces that I would bring and add to the gumbo. 

I kept my refrigerator and cupboard stocked as best I could, choosing from the fine selections at WalMart, as they have accessible parking lots that can accommodate tractor trailers.  WalMart really has the cheapest and best genetically modified foods available to the trucker out on the road today, not to mention catering to their usual, Walmartian clientele. When you are hungry you’re not as picky about your food.  When I was home, though, I raided Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s and stocked up.  Beware of eating mixed nuts and other, addictive fatty food while (sedentarily) chugging down the road.  Besides making you tired, you gain weight like crazy if you are not careful.  Of course, there’s not much else to do while driving, except to maybe smoke, tune-in to the radio wasteland, or talk on the phone (using a Bluetooth device of course).

When you see a warning light come on on the dashboard, like an amber or red “check engine” light, it’s ultimately a problem that needs to be handled by the manufacturer, viz., Kenworth.  If the truck is new enough – no more than about one-year old – repairs are covered by the warranty.  (I shudder to think of the other TransRam drivers out there whose rigs are more than one-year old!)  

There are Kenworth dealers from coast-to-coast. The catch is this: there is an exasperating wait time and, it seems you cannot be assured that they will fix the problem.  I had the good fortune of having to go in for servicing only three times.  Each time I waited almost a full day just to get into a bay door.  The work they do is hit-or-miss.  I had an amber “check engine” light lit up on the dash ever since I began driving my truck.  Kenworth diagnosed it as indicating that it needed a software update.  Well, they updated the software and it soon came on again and remained, on-again/ off-again for the remainder of my year of driving. I finally concluded that it didn’t really affect the operation of the vehicle (although there also seemed to be a perennial, misfiring third cylinder, according to the computer code!)  I had other hassles with the Kenworth dealers, but won't bore you any further.

Hopefully, whatever problem you have, you won’t need to be towed to a service garage.  At a minimum, towing is $200 - $300, and can be a lot more, depending on how far you must be towed.  If it’s a tractor problem, it’s your problem – the money comes out of your own pocket.  This includes getting towed perhaps 20 feet because your drive wheels are spinning and you are stuck.  This happened to me once when I went home on leave; even though I was on level ground, the wheels had sunk into the ground just enough so that they couldn’t get any traction.  Lucky for me, a neighbor with a big truck full of felled trees came over and pulled me out before the tow truck driver could get there (this was one time I was glad the tow truck driver was late in getting to me). 

When your fuel gauge gets to one-eighth, a warning message and red light comes on.  However, I’ve found that there is still quite a bit of fuel left in the tanks, even when the gauge shows them as “empty”.  The truck had two, (supposedly) 100-gallon tanks, though I cannot remember ever putting much more than 150 gallons, maximum, in both.  I suppose this means there are about 50 gallons left when you get to the one-eighth level(?)  But figuring how many miles you can go before you run out of fuel is hard to do because the mileage you’ll get depends on the weight you are pulling.  You certainly do NOT want to run out of diesel when you are on a country road with no shoulder.  Safety is always the prime directive!

But Thursdays are problematic for TransRam drivers.  Why? – because Thursdays are the last day in the pay period.  Ideally, you want to be below one-quarter or even one-eighth by the end of your driving on Thursdays.  If you haven’t burned the fuel in your tanks by then, your paycheck will be lower than you might otherwise expect because you have paid for fuel but didn’t get the money-per-miles to counter that fuel expense.  So there is a tendency, on Thursdays, to drive on empty, perhaps stopping to buy 20 gallons here or there.  Still, risk takers like me would rather see how far the truck will go on “empty”.  This got me into trouble once.  Of course I was running low while on an interstate – the Indiana Turnpike – not on a country road.  If I remember correctly, I must have gone about 170 miles on “E” before sputtering to a halt – less than a mile from a service area.  I made the mistake of re-starting the engine, which got me to the ramp of the service area.  However, this ”extra push”  drained the diesel from the lines. 

On this occasion I did as I was trained to do and called “Road Assist,” the in-house AAA as-it-were.  I had to purchase a 5-gallon fuel container (for some ungodly amount). Of course the opening in the container was like those of cars – too small for the larger diameter dispenser at the truck pumps to fit into it (keeping non-truck drivers from using truck diesel, which is taxed less than regular road diesel) – so I had to buy the more expensive “auto diesel”.

That morning it was still dark and the nozzle wasn’t that long and it was hard to get it aimed so that the fuel went into the tank.  After lots of spillage and perseverance, I managed to get a respectable amount in.  Then, under the tutelage of the Road Assist guy, I opened the hood and found the manual pump attached to the fuel line that allows you to pump diesel back into the line.  I was told to pump this lever 100 times (or was it 200?) and then try to start the truck.  No luck.  I was then told to repeat the procedure.  (It was kind of like a tiny replica of a portable, not-very-efficient bicycle pump.)  After another 100 (or 200?) pumps I tried again, and presto!  The engine roared to life (even though it’s really a dead thing, not a living thing, like a horse).  Off I went, wiser now, despite the wear and tear on muscles that I hadn’t used in some time.

During my truck driving stint I discovered that Ohio provides free showers for truckers (or anyone who knows about it) on the I-80 Ohio Turnpike.  You only need to bring your own towel.  That’s a good bit of info for the gypsy traveler.  Also, Iowa provides free wifi at its rest areas, another convenient perk.    

My preferred driving schedule was to get going in the morning anywhere from 3:00-5:00 AM.  I love getting up and puttering around before sun-up.  I call this the “monk’s hour”.  Before setting off I’d get up each morning and brew a strong cup of coffee using my electric kettle.  One of my fondest memories was watching a lunar eclipse one early morn while traversing the hills of western New York.  This was not “blues before sunrise” – anything but.  As the dawn breaks, observing the slight variations in morning light, leading to that orange sun butting up on the horizon, was always new and always welcome (after hoping and praying that no deer or other critter darted out of the dark into my path in the preceding hours).  Sunsets were lovely too, but the morning sun has always been my favorite.

Another reason to be an early bird is to assure that you will have a parking place when your day is done.  My preference is for rest areas. Truck stops are noisier and dirtier. Rest area are easier to pull into and out of.  Plus, I am self-sufficient, food-wise, and don’t need what they sell at truck stops – except fuel.  But if you need to park at a truck stop, you better get in there early, about 2:00-3:00 PM.  By 6:00 PM they are likely to be filled up – or the only places left are harder to back into, and of course it seems like all the other truckers there are watching you.  Still, some truck drivers prefer truck stops.  I never could understand the draw to truck stops over rest areas – being eyeball to eyeball among all those trucks lined up staring at one another. No, merci! It’s as though you’re a part of a mutual admiration society of dissociatives who reinforce each other’s entranced state of being. No, merci!     

I prefer solitude – being alone with the Alone (if that’s not too foo-foo of a notion).  Over-the-road truck driving will afford you more solitude than most any other job, except maybe that of a forest ranger. This is a good thing, if used constructively.  Read, write, research, prepare food, practice patience, mindfulness and moderation, and talk to loved ones – that’s not a bad life, if you can handle at least a temporary sojourn from the natural world and your loving wife, family and friends. 

Stop and think a minute.  Ask yourself how much time you spend interacting with living things as opposed to “dead” things?  Only the natural world is alive – the plants and animals, the soil and sunlight, bodies of water – these are chock full of life force.  Communing with the energy-replenishing natural world is, well, natural for human beings.  To be cooped up within the four walls of any sterile environment (home, office, factory) for very long, or to spend long hours, day-after-day in a motor vehicle is not good for human beings.  We are free-ranging animals who need space and movement, fresh air, clean water and meaningful, creatively fulfilling work while being amidst other sentient creatures, human and non-human.  This is our heritage as Earthlings here on this planet. 

So when we fabricate artificial and synthetic things, and then spend day-upon-day and even night-after-night among these non-natural things, we become like these “dead” things – physically, mentally, and psychically dead.  Even our holiest-of-holy hi-tech devices lead us astray.  Those still glued to TVs worldwide are self-conditioning and degenerating themselves.  I’m not advocating that we become Luddites who shun all technology.  Rather, we might just start trying to associate a whole lot more with the living – until we find that we actually prefer LIFE (or what might be described as a more “anarcho-primitivist” state of being).   

In the summertime, a fully mature oak tree cycles something like 300 gallons of water per day by pumping it up from its roots, through its trunk and branches, and transpiring it through its leaves into the air.  Imagine what an energy dynamo each tree is!  Do you think if you were to sit and lean against the base of that tree that you would partake of some of its life force?  Have you ever gone into the wilderness and stayed there for a few weeks or a month?  Try it sometime.  After only a few days, once your chattering mind settles down, you may find a whole new perspective – a whole new you – a more whole you.   

I suppose humans must have a tremendous capacity to endure long periods of isolation from the natural world.  Truck drivers are a case in point.  Eventually, the cumulative effect of being removed from the life-affirming energies of that natural world will take its toll.  But it’s not just truckers who suffer, not by any means.  Indeed, we are all zombies to one degree or another, to the extent that we are disconnected from our optimal health, our optimal potential.  This then begs the question: just what is real anymore?  Are we all just dead (or undead) and subservient to other zombies, who in turn, are subservient to handlers in the form of vampire controllers?  And if we get more real, what will we be like as human beings?  If we swear-off clinging to groups of other dissociatives, severely attenuating such human-to-human contact, and instead have more communion with an other-than-human, living world, what human potential might we re-claim?

These types of thoughts are what have rambled through my roving mind as I have roamed this land, far and wide. 

[1]   The first, The Socially Conscious Truck Driver, was written before I started driving. The second, Jack, the Truck Driving Man, was penned after about three months on the road. (Radio Wasteland, was published about seven months in, though it is more tangential to actual truck driving). The Suffering Trucker was written close to the end of my one-year commitment.  All can be found on this blog.