an open space.
Through the Wormhole...and out the other side
Happy friggin' 4th of July, folks, I hope everyone saw the new Through the Wormhole episode, "Can Our Minds be Hacked?", last night on the Science Channel. It pretty much details everything I've said over the last few days regarding our government mind control program which is headquartered in the multi-billion dollar top secret National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) building outside of Washington DC and was built without the vast majority of Congress knowing anything about it. See my comments below. Seems that the American people are the real targets of their reconnaissance, so at least they got the name right. You might also note that the White House, Pentagon, CIA and NSA are all completely shielded from this type of personal EMP. The Capitol can't be effectively shielded because of the open dome and just look at the mess that friggin' place has become - and now you know why. Finally, it should be noted that the Supreme Court is also not shielded, so all you need to do to get a split decision is tweak the polarity just so and viola: the conservatives all vote conservative, the liberals all vote liberal and the majority wins every time, irregardless of the merits of the issue at hand. And they don't even know it's happening. So what do you think of that, Scalia? Still in line with the Founding Father's intentions, or do you not know your own mind? Or was your mind, and everyone else's for that matter, really made up for you by some Air Force tech sergeant sitting at a computer console in Chantilly? Corporations are people - that was one of yours, I believe. Are you really that stupid? Good grief. What we really need exposed is anything Snowden might have related to psyops programs and actions our government uses not just against its own citizens, but anyone within range of our communications, be it internet, television or radio (Radio Free Europe? Voice of America?). That's the stuff they're really worried about. And once you do that, you'll see how it all ties in together into the most sinister totalitarian regime this world has ever seen. And then we Americans, like the Germans before us in 1945, will say, "But we didn't know." And they'll have both been right, but not for reasons of personal apathy or barbarism. Think on that, Merkel. It may well be that rather than not knowing, that the information or knowledge was simply suppressed through various psyops means so that it became inaccessible - a suspension of belief of sorts. It was, after all, the first war to make extensive use of radio and radar and they both interfere, at certain frequencies, with the bio-electrical computer and power plant we all share called the human brain. Their primary carrier is now microwave technology, the receivers for which most of you carry around all day in your personal cell...phones. And if you've ever seen people sitting around in public places looking at color charts as you'd find in a paint store, that's what they're doing. Certain colors, which are frequencies themselves, excite or suppress certain areas of the brain and that gives them their in: They're the programmers and hackers. You see the same things on television through pixel manipulation, which is a whole lot easier to do in the digital age than it ever was in the analog age, and can be tailored to be IP-specific, just for you and me. Peace. Byrd
How they do it...and how they got Jerry
Among the many effects opium and its derivatives have on the human brain, schizophrenia is among the most sinister and it affects practically every junkie to one degree or another. It is this schizophrenia, or more specifically this bi-polarity, that provides a mental switch which can be used against us and it can be induced using very low, trace levels of the opiates to which each and every one of us has been exposed through one way or another. It's triggered through various methods including light shifts, color shifts and music itself, producing a left brain/right brain polarizing effect - essentially pitting one side of the mind against the other with no possibility of reconciliation because the common ground has been eliminated. This then becomes the trigger mechanism for war itself, as friend is easily pitted against friend, and our own mind is pitted against itself through what is basically a chemically induced bisection of the brain. Now it appears that geneticists have discovered how to cross certain specific traits or genes of the opium poppy with that of corn, producing a hybrid that can be used to basically saturate the entire population with this bi-polar characteristic, even in infants when consumed in something like baby food using creamed hybrid corn or soy-based infant formula. Probably explains the huge rise in autism, as you might well imagine the detrimental effects it would have on the newly-forming brain. They've pretty much completely monopolized corn production throughout our country and the Caribbean, and now have their sights set on Africa. Farmers are prohibited from using the seeds produced by their crops and always have to go back to Monsanto for the latest upgrade. They are prosecuted if caught planting seeds their own crops have produced and their crops are seized. This is how they do it…and this is how they got Jerry. The last time we saw each other at RFK in '95, and though he was three years younger than I am now, he looked 100 years old - which is actually odd for a junkie - and he seemed completely locked into chromatic mode playing - his left brain was playing against his right and the internal conflict, unseen by either himself or others, was essentially ripping him apart. He literally became his own worst enemy as it just wore him out, and as in all wars, both sides lost. It was also no accident or coincidence that he had access to the most potent heroin around, because he was pretty darn resilient when it came to drugs and it took a lot to co-opt his mind. Who knows what Jerry was really hearing himself play, but all I heard from him that night was a chromatic mish-mash of notes with whatever remained of his melodic skills locked or split somewhere inside. This is not science fiction. I wish it was, but it's not. The only good news I can give you is that it appears that those who use marijuana or have used psychedelics such as LSD, peyote or psilocybin seem to have some immunity from the effects - and that's why pot remains illegal while opium and its derivatives flood our streets. ..... Curious that it always seems to be fertilizer plants that blow up in America. Of course, anything powdery can explode if enough of it gets into the air during the mixing process and it comes into contact with a spark. Even things like refined white sugar, or even opium, can explode if you're not really careful. Again of course, you probably wouldn't want a lot of nosy FEMA investigators snooping around until you got everything cleaned up. And I guess you've also just got to wonder why something so explosive as fertilizer, which was reportedly used by McVie in the Oklahoma City bombing, wasn't under seriously heavy guard so terrorists couldn't get their hands on it for sinister purposes - as Bloomberg did with the sparklers in New York this year. And didn't we all feel safer knowing those sparklers were off the streets. Hmmm. I'm of two minds about this, as I'm sure we all are, but it will all come together. We all know our government would never do something like that, because even in minute doses, opium would tend to make people rather compliant and docile, don't you think? We all know how addictive sugar is all on its own(!?), as is concentrated high fructose corn syrup, and besides that, they'd have to go all the way to somewhere like Afghanistan to get that much opium and need a huge agricultural monopoly almost as big as something like Monsanto, to control and distribute it in secret if they really wanted full market saturation. Sure would be a lot easier if they could just splice the necessary poppy and corn traits or genes together into a hybrid. But then I do love science fiction, and I am absolutely certain that the dynastic powers that be in Texas have a good explanation for not immediately rushing all available assets to this poor West Texas town leveled by the explosion a few months back, else they'd just be beating the bushes to get it done. Can't wait to hear it. Guess I could always roll a stone over to that smiling Cheshire cat in the White House and ask him: "So come on, Brown Sugar. How come you taste so good?" Why don't cha tell me 'bout it. So I sent this straight to the White House. Peace to all, Byrd
Hey Byrd, Watch your back Dude!
I'm in Nepal and the word here is that Monsanto is a bunch of international gangsters and is actively shadowing activists arrayed against them. No joke, if I'm hereing it here this is a world-wide thing! Wake up everybody, you're eating FrankenFood!
Grateful Dead slot machine
I was in the midst of writing a story, when my protagonist wander into a casino. Before I knew it he was playing a Grateful Dead slot machine, which I did even know existed 'til I started writing about it, the rest is as follows: he was gazing, as if at God. I traced her glance to a slot called “The Golden Road”, featuring the Grateful Dead – since about the age of 9, Janis worshiped them. She had albums, tapes, cd, boatloads of bootlegs. She said they had over 2000 songs, I'm sure she had them all, several times over. She was still staring, and mumbling or singing – at an old geezer and his oxygen tank, both looking down on their luck. He looked straight at Janis, his body might have been old, but his he had the big blue eyes of a newborn. “Dime for a cup of coffee” he begged, offering an arthritic hand. What the hell. I pull one out of my pocket. As I passed it to Janis I noticed the portrait of Mercury on it. Shit, damn thing is worth more than ten cents. And so it was. Before I had time to retrieve it from Janis, she had passed it to the old man and he jammed it in the machine. Seconds later it had hit some kind of bonus – lights were flashing – “Truckin' got my chips cashed in” was booming from a tower of speakers and a pyramid flashed high above. This was apparently the Jerry bonus as his face flashed on the board, urging the man to “pick a pick” - five guitar picks presented themselves and the man pondered for a long time. “Left one, body left” yelled Janis, I had no idea what that meant, but the Geezer rubbed the left one with great vigor. Ding, Ding, Ding – the right choice! Advance to New York! “Chicago, New York, Detroit and it's all on the same street. Now six guitars flashed for the old mans' approval “Right one” Janis urged “Mind right” The old man smashed his finger at the guitar like a DA accusing a murderer in a court of law. Louder bonging, again a winner, advance to Detroit, 6 bongs now appeared, numbers flashed an ever higher quantity, “BIG WIN”! A crowd was gathering, but Janis shone above them, and the old man put his arm around her. She squeezed in the little area between the man and the oxygen tank. “You are my oxygen” and offered a gnarled hand “August West” “Sugar Magnolia”, glad to meet you. The numbers kept rolling until they reached $300. The next bonus was $750. “Do you know what your choices are?” Asked Sugar Janis “Never got to this stage” croaked the old man, he was sweating and wheezing – “but I seen it done.” Two of them are straight-armed cops, and then jail bars slam down and you are busted, two of them show a danged consolation prize like fifty clams, two of them let you spin the wheel while the song “The Wheel” plays and the last gives you a chance at The Golden Road. They both broke into song “California, Prophet on the Golden Shore...” “At any rate I get to keep the three Franklins- plus whatever the wheel or consolation prize adds.” “OK, Sugar” the old man squeezed her butt “be my summer love in the spring, fall and winter” “I can make out with any man alive” and she planted a wet kiss on his lips. I'm sure this was all in the spirit of the moment and had something to do with whatever tone was in the air. Instinctively I moved closer. The crowd did too. A little too close, there were two dramas playing out here. More people joined in – the oxygen tank tilted and the old man had to grab his mouthpiece to keep it from flinging into the crowd. In unison August and Janis turned and said “OK, everybody, take a step back” And they did! What was going on! Did they practice this? I felt like I was a foreign church, everyone knew when the “Amen” or “as it is in Heaven, O Lord” or whatever trick phrases come up, except me. Now that the crowd has backed off I sidled next to Sugar/Janis. “What's going on here” “Quiet, we are playing for real money and don't worry” she turned and whispered “Sugar Magnolia is a lesbian”. If she wanted to shut me up that really did it. Did she mean she was a lesbian, were the rumors about Donna Rudolph and her true? If you lose your virginity to a dyke, does it count? Meanwhile, the crowd was making various suggestions. Sugar & August were huddled, I leaned closer to catch their whispers. “I'm getting no real feeling on this” “Think” urged the man “this could change my life, like that kid who won the lottery” O, boy- what did he know? “How do you know it was a kid” asked Janis “Everyone knows his picture is all over the place- must be in hiding” Yipes! I'm doomed. “Forget that, Sugar” the old man drew her closer “Pay my ticket” “Trouble ahead, Trouble behind” she sang “It's the one in the middle. And so, it was – the crowd went nuts and we move to the Golden Road, prize $1 million. “Man, this is going to be a tough nut to crack” said the a semi-bald pony-tailed biker. His stomach was 3 feet closer to me than his mouth, and getting closer. He had a wife-beater tshirt with a hand-made design. A skull with a lightning bolt zagged across a red forehead, and below it said “Steal You Bike”. He was working his mobile devise, his sausage fingers were somehow pecking out a message on a postage stamp size keyboard.
being a true dead head
This is a question as a young dead head. What am i too do i can never see the grateful dead live, but they are my favorite band ever. I wear a grateful dead shirt every single day and a have a good amount of cds, i want to claim that im a dead head but dont feel i can just cause ive never even seen a show. ive been trying to see them but they never come near me. so can i claim being a dead head? also how can i handle being in a world were i can never seee my favorite band?
If you're a human, you gotts be in!
That description fits me just beautifully. I never saw the Dead but was privileged to see 'Further' at the Red Rocks last year. It was cool, the vibe was great, and it was fun just to be a part of it. With the Dead, when you listen to them, you feel you can just lay your heart right on the line with them. Sometimes when I catch a little 'space' I listen to the dead and know they are companions that have been right there with me. It feels like home. It feels good.
They're just friends you haven't met.
I always believed the dead were a state of mind or a philosophy in away, they held the lens up for us to look through and experience. A constantly evolving organism. I was lucky enough to start catching them in the early 80's thanks to a friends brother and it was just the thing I was missing in my life. I somehow knew or sensed they or "something "was out there, much like you, but didn't know we're or how to look for it...at the time I started seeing them the older heads were telling me "it's changed". It's not like it use to be. True but the only constant In the universe is change and you can still experience the mind altering music they made as well as the state of mind. I'm really really glad to see a new generation enjoy the rare gem that is the Grateful Dead. If you need any tips and/ or direction with regards to the trail your on, you only need ask. Strangers stopping strangers...
Ossau Iraty - using sheep's milk from the Basque region of France. Quite sweet and fruity. Petit Reblochon - rind-washed, made from raw cow's milk. Rather nutty, lovely and smooth. Chaource - deliciously soft and creamy, using unpasteurized cow's milk. Cylindrical pleasure. Shropshire Blue - mildly spicy, slightly yeasty, from a traditional animal rennet. A simple joy.
smile and say...
"Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese." -G.K. Chesterton, Alarms and Discursions
a tuning compilation
One from every year might be interesting. It could happen...
Went running in a nearby national park this a.m. and the scene from afar was breathtaking: below 500', fall foliage in driving snow; above that clearly demarcated elevation, everything covered in a solid white applique of snow and ice, with the ridge invisible under mist and likely heavier snowfall. Anyway, pup and I ran an eerily quiet forest floor along the base and small foothills for almost a couple hours, though I only know this because I pulled the earplugs once while the terrier stood at stiff attention facing ???, otherwise, I was transported 3rd row, center with a raucous crowd at the Fillmore East on 2/27-28/70 listening to Alvin and the boys of 10 Years After...WOOT!/K
Incidentally, COSMICBADGER, where are you?
A conscientious and creative effort like this...
...reminds me how little I contribute to humanity. /K
Zombie Apocalypse Election 101
So how exactly does one go about engineering a complete shift in political mindset resulting in a swath of otherwise sensible people across an entire nation voting and acting directly counter to their own self-interests and better judgment? Well, let's see...You begin by introducing a new virus into the genome and let it do its nasty work. Something like Ebola: everyone now has it, but it's only toxic to some whose systems, like a computer, can't handle the upgrade, in which case it's deadly as the body's systems all crash. They then, most insidiously, become the basis for the fear campaign, leaving everyone susceptible literally seeing nothing but red. It's social engineering on the genetic level, coupled with psychological manipulation via things like radio, television and internet sites like Facebook to broadcast incessant repetition combined with color saturation, resulting in the complete suspension of reason which they purposely short-circuit and replace with irrational fear. Zuckerwhateverthefuck has been running the tests via Facebook for the Pentagon for a couple of years and you now see the results: The map turned from blue to red in a viral fashion...exactly as planned...just like a military operation. This election, as such, represents not the free will of the people, but rather the planting, extraction and exploitation of programmed responses on both national and state levels, employing American military electronic, biological and psychological warfare tactics and assets against the American people. The election was never in doubt for the PsyOps guys with the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the National Military Command Center - Election Ops Central - as the tables are now set with all the maniacal warhawk players required for the ground war they so desperately desire in the Middle East. And that's how it's done: Zombie Apocalypse Election 101 – and yes, there will be a test. Perhaps one of those Koch suckers will tell me if I left anything out, considering they financed the entire operation and publicly spread all their green around for no other reason than to leave even diehard liberals seeing red too. And after the election, all the colors, even on FOX, return to blue and the tension levels diminish as the lower frequencies of the final blue wave soothes the beast that has just been unknowingly savaged; the major networks are now running all blue scenes and news; FOX has ceased its incessant red and yellow NEWS PANIC ALERT, keeping their brain-and-soul-dead viewers in a constant red state of panic and paranoia, and has switched from red to blue body suits for the hookers and pimps it calls commentators; victims issues are being resolved rather than created, and even Mother Jones is running all blue. Finally, and every-day-miraculously I might add, the last Ebola victim has been cleared and you're not going to die in your beds (per Sen. Lindsey Graham) from ISIS because our children are going to die fighting the enemy they've created for themselves of ISIS in the Middle East. Hell, like Bush, they might even get to try their hands completing construction on the new Babylon we've been promised will usher in either a new era of peace for all mankind or a slew of non-competitive contracts for Halliburton. Hell of a choice. So there you have it folks. Welcome to Bullshit Amerika. (Never Trust a Clown on a Bike) Byrd
somewhere a fox is getting married
Enjoying that dragging the cursor over the site's section headers makes the number of days wiggle. Little things...
Dead. So Dead.
Shame such an eclectic collection of healthy paranoia, amour pour le fromage, cryptic wisdom, and intermittent flow of Randall's illuminative consciousness should suffer this lengthy lapse! As the usual suspects hose down the new release thread with testosterone, the dead.net backwater offers welcome reprieve. Though all in for 30 Trips, and show #31 via DaP 16, I confess to not having listened to a note-o'-Dead since early August. But, "new" discoveries have been plentiful: As mentioned on The Eleven, I've become aware of this obscure group called The Beatles. Huh. Who knew? After acquiring the '09 stereo box - and listening thrice longitudinally with numerous additional visits to Abbey Rd., Revolver & MMT - I am increasingly struck by not only the prodigious work product over such a (relatively) short period, but the quantum evolution of musicianship, lyricism, and production; I begin to appreciate the profound attachment those who matured alongside the band during their formative (impressionable) years now feel. Enough for now, yet I've not even touched on billionaires, the undead, Citizens United or their potential collective impact on the 2016 election cycle! "Fresh. So Fresh." (just for you RL!)/peace, K
the television picture is a man made ghost
Testosterone hoses. How wise you avoid such thread. Navigating cock forest terrain is a tedious exercise. Recline instead amongst the artisan mould. Auscultate. Are you sitting comfortably? Then i'll begin. "So young it knows no maturing. So fresh it's yet to be born." RL
up to no good : (
My parents are trying to have me sent away instead of being with the man I love. I am 36 years old. I just want what everyone else wants to be married and have a family of my own. My Mother and Father and mentally ill and should be locked up in a mental health facilty until they can learn how to treat their (grown-up) children. thanks.
1971 RESEARCH PROJECT
Good morning rockers!!!! As many of you may or may not know, I am a bit of a “1971 Dead fanatic”. I have taken on a slightly ambitious project, documenting all 1971 Dead shows, the end result of which I hope will combine numerous “facts/factoids” about shows with recollections of folks who actually attended Dead shows in 1971. In order to accomplish this, I need the help of the Dead fan community. ALL contributions will be properly and specifically credited. If you attended ANY shows in 1971 and have ANY recollections to share, PLEASE consider participating. Please PM me for details. While of course I’m happy to hear from anybody who attended “classic 71 shows” such as Port Chester, Fillmore East, Harding Theater, Felt Forum, etc., I’m particularly interested in hearing from folks who may have attended lesser known, “out of the way” shows, such as: 1/21/71 Davis 1/22/71 Lane Community College 3/5/71 Oakland 4/14/71 Bucknell 4/18/71 Cortland 6/21/71 Chateau d’Herouville 8/4/71 Terminal Island 10/19/71 Northrop Auditorium 11/11/71 Atlanta 11/17/71 Albuquerque In addition, if ANYBODY out there has “paper ephemera” related to 1971 shows, Please consider participating. I’m looking especially for: Newspaper/print media articles Show posters/handbills Ticket stubs Photographs Thanks in advance to all who participate and contribute! Rock on, Doc Gillespie
Song Title of the Day
"A Lot Of Money For Something You Don't Want"
song Title Of the Day
"Theme From Gas My Donkey"
Song title Of the Day
"Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart (But The Very Next Day You Took It To Record And Tape Exchange)"
Song Title of The Day
"The Resurrection Was A Bit Of A Bonus"
sONG Title Of The DAY
"Choose Your Poison And Don't Look Back"
SOng TITle OF THE DAY
"Eclectic Is Another Word For Shit"
SONg titLE of tHE DAy
"You Correct Your Own Vision And Not Ours"
SoNg tiTLe of The Day
"He Ain't Heavy He's My Butcher"
Re: 1/7/16 12:29 AM and " Apart from Fatrasies"
I like the title, " I'm a Detective."
Re: Orion's Dyslexia
Wit lacks one when quit to best.
song title of the daY
"'Oh, Whistle A Few Bars And I'll Fake It, My Lad'"
I know my poem was pushing my product, and the last stanza was added after the death of my father this past Fall because of a Ripple I thought too powerful to ignore. Many would find the poem more secularly appealing if you change the 1st line, 3rd stanza to "...not a peek at God" and drop the last stanza completely. Now before I take respite and let you get back to pushing your prod, which seems near infinite, I have one question for you, which you can take as rhetorical or not. Did you really dig the Dead or just find a safe house where you could spread your cred?
... you've lost me. check your messages.
Re: In Carnation
SoNg TiTlE oF tHe DaY
"The First Step Back To Normal Life"
Some Crypts Open Easily
Did she die? I myself am aged, fairly fit, and suffer from no eating disorder. No worries, I take no offense and rather enjoy it ... wait am I reading more into this than intended?
Inscrypted in a rock near Plymouth, circa 1666, not far from the site of the yet to be fought," Battle of Balderdash": " You have to be Wicked Smart to take on the Naughty Dead." Just letting you know I have a sense of humor, albeit undeveloped, when not enveloped in vanity.
is an old acquaintance of mine, whether I like it or not. Sorry to read of your father's death, Orian.
Seriously, no problem.
Thanks, about my dad. But, really the last two posts, I was just trying to be clever.
(I'll) Give Comedy A Chance
Hey, slo, I think we may be distantly related. My real name is Cole Slaw. I bet you guys wish I had stayed in poetry.
about a 1 in 1 billion chance...
For what it's worth, Orian, I enjoy your poetry, but I've also discovered some wonderful poets which I had no idea existed thanks to entries from others. (I'll never be mistaken for a wordsmith, so I usually post poetry that I find interesting). ....something I remind myself of often: Be yourself, but let others be themselves :-)
SonG TitlE OF ThE DaY
"The Last Vestiges Of Sodomy On The Racecourse"
My 3 favorite quotes from slo lettuce
1. Be yourself, but let others be themselves :-)2. What is Karma? 3. Are you going to finish that?