Dog Poet Transmitting.......

© Unknown
Maybe 13 years ago or so, I saw part of one episode of MTV's Big Brother. That's been the extent of my exposure to reality TV, which joins the short list of great oxymorons, like 'military intelligence'. The last time I watched network TV with any regularity would have been before I left home; that place you can't go again and may not have had in the first place. Probably "All in the Family" was on then. I've seen regular news, like CNN, a half a dozen times since the stolen election of 2000 and Fox News for a couple of minutes on the night I check into my hotel room, at the halfway point between dreaming Italy and the apneic northern realms.

I left the mainland USA twenty years before I left the country entirely. I was going back to Maui in the winter (after I left the USA) and thinking it might be a trend, until they played games with my passport and I realized I was on a kind of a list from something like The Mikado. I've spent time with friends for a total of about two months in eight years, maybe less. I have no friends close by in Europe but I do have some too far away to drive and visit.

I get mail from all over the world and probably piss people off when I forget to answer because the page rolls up and life has moved on and I didn't mean it. I even get mail from a military attaché kind of a guy in Mongolia. I wish he would write again. I like hearing from him. I get mail from Patagonia, Iceland and by now I've gotten mail from everywhere except North Korea and Greenland, I think. My world is a planet inside my head that rotates in virtual space and includes close personal friends I may never see in this life (cue Bob Marley). I compare my life to that of an astronaut whose only social life takes place over satellite communications.

I was looking at a page in the neo-Pharisee media last night and I saw some photos of people arriving at The Grammys. All of them were from reality TV shows, with names like The Fashion Police, The Jersey Shore and Laparoscopic Butt Love; no musical artists, just reality TV people. Modern culture has a devastating technique that they use during the times they are not chanting 'Hail Satan'. What it is, is they create a need and then fill it with a product. This leads to interesting speculations on my part during those times when I am not inundated with visitors or hanging out with close friends. I wonder what people did before they got cell phones.

Unreality moves in segments. This is important because by the time you get to where there is nothing real whatsoever, there is also no invisible means of support. It's all material constructs that the divine leaves up to see how long it can remain standing. You'd be amazed at the amount of bets that go on around the divine, purely for entertainment of course.

We have been moved from one unreal station of being to another, in a gradual way, over the course of a number of years. In the process, massive portions of history have been rewritten to please the people who used the fiat/fractal currency scam to provide the funds to purchase all of the avenues through which information comes to you. The Devil is what happens to God when he gets involved in the material world. That's what happens to you too. The Unreal burns just like anything else or they wouldn't have lights in Las Vegas. Les Vegas.... Hmmmm.

Reality cannot be adjusted and neither can the truth. That is why they are what they are and everything else is not. Reality is a bad fart in an elevator, which is why it's not too popular. And... because very few people have any real talent these days, unreality is necessary in order to produce the appearance that they mostly do. That's what makes reality TV what it is and it's all part of the grand dumbing down, pedestrianization and trivialization of existence.

It is an important feature of this world to trivialize humanity and make existence into a sick joke because it makes it much easier to kill large amounts of people and also because the whole point of manifest existence is a war for your souls. That's one of the things they take bets on. The gods do gamble and there are odds, degrees of difficulty and all sorts of things. There are a number of tales concerning God and the Devil taking bets about the integrity of one or more people in a landscape of corruption and so forth and so on.

One of the biggest and best kept secrets is that we are gods sleeping and there is a whole side to existence that is deeply invested in keeping us sleeping and in a state of controlled dreaming. Then there's another side that is involved in waking us up. This is the main reason for pissing on human dignity and human potential, while painting us as fucking and fighting meat puppets, strung out on crap, which the very appreciation of, stands as proof that we are hairless apes in polyester with no redeeming qualities. Everybody is waiting to go on stage, while few have put much thought and effort into what they will do once they get there.

© Unknown
One of the things that are going to manifest shortly is cannibalism. That's one of the big demarcation points along the road to Shitville. It's going to manifest out of desperation but it's also going to morph into a hip thing to do. There are a few things that are evidence of how close to Shitville we might be. Another one of the things is the rape of innocence and the torture of children as a means of promotion through the ranks. Making life pointless is a protracted affair. It was already in motion before Jean Paul Sartre got his dick caught in his zipper because he was paying too much attention to Jean Genet's ass. Had he been able to penetrate the matter, instead of toying with it as a philosophical masturbation, pregnancy might have ensued and Andy Warhol would have been born in France. I've linked this recently but it is such an important work that it needs to be mentioned again and... it is another sign of proximity to Shitville. Lasha Darkmoon is proof that not all of us are going to Shitville because we've already been there through the coming attractions.

In a better world, in a better time, heroes would be slaying dragons (metaphorically speaking) to lay at the feet of this splendid lady. (bankers will do) These, however, are not better times. These are the days of Reality TV. These are the days when we can watch someone who is tone deaf sing an aria to Taco Bell and scratch his ass while the critics parse the deeper meaning of it. These are the days when you are invited to watch the odious and execrable commercials from Super Bowl, after the fact and then vote on your favorite. You can download the whole package for future viewing. These are the days when an adult with arrested development can have eight kids at one time like a brood sow and get on TV ...and where Michelle Bachmann is not pelted with vegetables and jailed for the crime of being who she is. She's seriously thinking of running for president and other people are seriously thinking about supporting her.

These are the times when lies become truth the moment they are spoken and the providers are celebrated for their candor. It makes you very tired and saps your will and... that's the point. I see it all around me. I feel its hands trying to pull me down and we have no strength to fight. We do have strength but the weariness is the point. Perhaps we do not have the strength but someone does and you can get a loan from his/her bank any time. Your following efforts are the repayment ...and the interest on the loan is your interest.

All you have to do is pay attention to the authentic reality TV, which is broadcast in your head all day long and which you can fine tune into a visual, once you discover that concentration is the secret of the magical art. It's not up to you and me to save the world. It's up to you and me to become someone true and beautiful, according to the ancient standard, that makes the world appear worth saving. Our job is to strive to be a better person and to make others wish they were. Our job is not to dazzle but to lead and that becomes both effective and possible when we know who we are following. All of a sudden this posting has come to an end but the inspiration for it will continue to echo in my head because of all that empty space; the result of throwing everything else away.

End Transmission.......