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Setting aside all the times in my life I have felt that the only explanation for my life is that I was deposited in Marin General Hospital by a space pod, lo those inconceivably many years ago, and listening only to my gut, leave us assume for a few moments that this ornate exopology full of fantastical aliens who are so oddly still ranked in terrestrial terms — we have lizards — we have insects — we have tall blond people with blue eyes — we have embryos that are easily made much larger and ambulatory — are just figments of our existentially-terrified and desperate-for-uninterrupted-entertainment imaginations.
This is a possibility.
We don't like it put this way. It robs us of our dignity. Hang whether we have any really, it's impolite to suggest we don't. So I'm just saying we can take out a few moments to pretend there are no sentient beings from anywhere else who have ever been here or ever will be. And, also, that all this crap about the multifarious TV stations all occupying the same air space at the same time and only needing a tuner to get one dimension pulled out of the soup is just the fevered mentation of math geeks as flummoxed by existence itself as the people making up weird creatures with mystically advanced powers hiding in the bushes and terrifying world leaders.
Nope. Just for a few moments. There is this one TV channel and no aliens ever. The evidence of structures out there, off world, are remnant of advanced earthlings from millennia ago. The Nephilim, spacefaring as they may have been, were merely earlier earthlings who knew they were going extinct and decided to pick on this race of oblivious morons, fuck around with their genes, try to leave at least some Nephilim DNA walking around into the future that way.
Are you clear on this temporary cosmology?
Okay.
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Maybe we weren't even morons. Maybe we just didn't have any time for competition and hierarchy and slavery and production of scarcity so a few could hog excess and celebrity. This dying race was much more technologically advanced but not blessed with our emotional intelligence, and it was easy to bully us into doing things their way because they were bigger and able to wipe us out if they chose.
So they're busy inseminating human women and finding this is just a jump too far for the human body. Their scientists get busy mixing our DNA with theirs in the lab to come up with something more doable in the way of a sexual partner who still had Nephilim blood to mate with humans. They called it The Mini-Me Project and went about selecting the best human specimens to breed with their lab hybrids, et voila, humanity's first ruling class. The Nephilim made sure they had a good social structure in place from which to perpetuate their privileged status into the future before they checked out.
Bad enough we were exploited this way, bringing our golden age crashing down around our ears, but the fuckers made it so the exploitation would survive even their physical existence, that the hybrid ruling class would be, in the main, as incapable of true human being as they were, despite having to be mostly human in order to perpetuate what of the Nephilim could carry on in any form.
You may be thinking, well, ain't that slick? But it hasn't been slick at all. It was just the best they could do in the time they had left to them, and they never got their progeny to a pure enough form for it to be slick at all. Many of them turned out to still be waaaaaay too human and unequivocally spiritual masters who would bring all of humanity up so many notches that the perfect system for perpetual abjection to the exaltation of a few was in serious, serious, serious jeopardy.
Nephilim were highly intelligent and vanity incarnate, emotionally stunted or bereft, and the hybridization was pocked with barely recognizable brilliant people who gave a shit about everybody. The more successful iterations, soulless and arch with fully-intact superiority complexes, were definitely there, but the Nephilim were unable to get this just right and foolproof before they croaked. It was left to these more pleasingly engineered hybrids to prevail over all those genius duds running around before the whole gorgeously hierarchical slave camp social structure fell to some bacchanal of bliss across the globe.
Libraries were looted and burned. Institutions of higher learning were sacked and followers of actual spiritual paths slaughtered or hiding in wilderness caves. Bloodlines full of courage and illumination were hounded to the ends of the earth and ground into it like rancid hamburger being tilled under to fertilize crops of kudzu. Whatever evidence of our former state of advancement, spiritually or technologically, was squirreled away in labyrinthine cellars beneath heavily fortified castles and armies of hungry idiots were paid to crusade around to root out and floridly liquidate anyone, anyone, anyone who showed the least resistance to their exaltation above the rest of humanity.
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We have proceeded from there roughly as noted in the history books extant. Most to all of the "humans" left extant with those "history" books are descendent of hybrids, hybrids. Most of us come out more heavily to the human characteristics, but even really very humanlike couples do pop out with much more Nephilimlike progeny. Them's the breaks. The best the miserable giant fucks could manage before curtains.
Still, even the awfully human beings nowadays are so well conditioned to emulate Nephilim that there is almost no chance we will stop and look at the fact of this conditioning being the only thing that perpetuates this hell we call the world. We are too worshipful of our trips to visit the ancient Nephilim power stations and corporate headquarters we are cutting out of the jungles or digging up out of the deserts to stop and look at how our entertainment is maybe not the way to freedom, that this very sense of self who needs this entertaining isn't even a little real, that we have been conditioned by our conditioned parents and teachers and media from birth to only call it that.
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This me needs to get ahead. I need to be in charge. I need others to serve me. I need to wear expensive clothes and be impeccably manicured and live in utterly pleasing and comfortable surroundings with others attending to all the difficult and time-consuming parts. I need to learn to talk in ways that do not cede my personal power to mere mortals. I am oblivious to their travails and their competence and their love. They serve my purposes or they can fuck off and die. This does not have to be from a purer Nephilim strain. It can be from anyone conditioned well enough to find this tack their ticket through life.
And it doesn't even have to be on the world stage. It can be in a company. Or a family. Or a church. Or a club. Or a neighborhood. Wherever there exists a human with this conditioned sense of identity most frequently referred to as "ego", there lies the kernel for the perpetuation of the Nephilim Way, if not their genes so much.
That sort of seems slick, but it's so not. It's loaded with travail. That's life. That's the masses needing entertainment, distraction, a succession of skits and dramas and comedies to keep our emotions busy until we die, to fill in where meaning is nowhere to be found, where truth is completely opaque even as it is going on completely uninterrupted since beginningless time and cannot do other than continue without end forever.
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It's all plotted out for us and by us, while a population of more perfect hybrids are busily preparing for our demise and their future on earth and in at least local space without us. Maybe some of us will be left for servants or maybe they have that already plotted out with androids or for whatever dud progeny they pop out in the future. That really very much is immaterial. The purer incarnations of the Nephilim genes don't and can't care. The one thing certain is that there are too many of us and it's a pain in the ass. As soon as they can safely do away with us, we're gone.
They have the technology to clean up this mess and restore Eden, but not quite yet enough to be certain of either their ability to keep this environment safe from galactic catastrophe or to colonize another planet successfully enough to insure the perpetuation of their fabulously advanced and entertaining and leisurely lives.
You can fuck off if you want, if you want to scrub a way to survive off the grid, so to speak, or you can dutifully be churned up in their mechanisms to profitably see you to your grave, or maybe you are clever enough to make that crucial decision to forget the welfare of your people and become indispensable to them somehow. Maybe you have a talent they want to keep around, or maybe you can develop one while showing clearly that you are a social darwinist to the marrow. I don't mean just anyone who will do a job for them to earn a living. I mean fully becoming one of them. This, of course, will not insure you stay alive, but it really does increase your odds of living longer.
Which is always the bottom line in the lives of both Nephilim and hybrids, the humans bred or conditioned to act like them. There are no wholly Nephilim left, or not here anyway. Maybe there was a breakaway Nephilim who left those hybridizers behind, just like we have this breakaway civilization, now, busily working toward their ends and leaving the masses mystified and chasing fantasies and dying of dread diseases or bombs or poisons or broken hearts. Mox nix. So long as we die or can be left behind to try to survive the next cataclysm and start over again.
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There is another choice, of course, and that is to divest yourself of the conditioning and wake up. If you do that you have a chance of salvaging the basis for another golden age. If you do not choose it, you are a functional Nephilim, part of the slaughter, a slave who is incapable of freedom.
Do you want to live a free and inspired life? How can you when all this information keeps entering your consciousness in a manner exactly analogous to watching a sitcom? When you can't do anything that transcends that analogue, can't perform up to a standard that moves out of theatrics and into a positive effect on reality itself? Can mainly only rise up to the level of ultra-exalting theater, where you have followers addicted to the intelligence and insight and superbly-rendered expressions of spiritual impeccability? Producing a very, very rare show for those of us so desperate for reality we will eat, sleep, breathe the fullness of our determination to perfection so seamlessly the very gods themselves will be engrossed in our sitcom?
No. Darlings. This means you. Your effort must flow into actual improvements in the prospects for living things apart from the control of psychopaths. Again I must mention that this might only turn out to produce an etched stone monolith with better instructions than the Georgia Guidestones, or maybe we can crank out some fully awakened young people to manage to do better after we're gone. We almost certainly can't do better than that, especially not if we keep letting Nephilim ideas of excellence cloud our minds.
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I mean, okay, fine, maybe the ones here on earth were criminals from a Nephilim home world and this was their prison planet or their death sentence. They outsmarted their accusers and found a way to perpetuate their criminality, their psychopathology, into the future after they died. There is another planet out there with a race of happy giants living out their golden age, not suspecting those condemned fucks are sending revenge in the form of really psychotic midgets.
If you really insist on space aliens, and not really any reason why you shouldn't, given all the givens, this also fits.
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Ego. Your sense of yourself. What serves as your identity. That's the non-human bit. Whether bred into you or drilled into you. It's not true. It's not real. It's made up. It is only capable of generating delusory things. It can't effect actuality except negatively, from leaving it carry on without us our whole lives.
It might seem to you you don't have the time to wrestle it down into quiescence while you let your true identity run your life, but, sorry, you don't have time for anything else. Not if you mean it. Not if you're no kidding and not interested in prime time wanting to make your life count for a better world.
Until you can do this — transfer your sense of self back over to who you are — you are spinning your wheels. You are abandoning ship. You are the bad guys winning.
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It's not an information war! Not one opinion over another. Not one way over another. Not one what-we-only-call-reality over another. It is, pure and simple, and has ever been thus, a realization war. Alone. Only. The single imperative. Buried under your lifetime of conditioning in your head.
always and any time....
