...
You probably know I love men in a pretty big way, but you probably don't know that I get to talk with some of the best specimens we have left on this planet, and it keeps my sorry old ticker keepin' on. Yes, they are from Mars, but they are also capable of just goddam transcendental communication.
They don't like that getting out, but true story, they're not mere hunks of musculature with dirty minds.
And I got to talk to so many of them — the really good ones — in one format or another, yesterday that I began to wonder if I were destined to fall asleep and never wake up... or if maybe I've been too harsh about horoscopes. Something.
And, it wasn't me chasing them. No. They were contacting me.
Boom. All unexpected and all most welcome to my attention.
But, Alice. He's some kind of miracle. If you stretch clear back years here, you might recall that I have a crush the size of Jupiter on a happily married fellow in the Midwest somewhere who goes by the call sign Terrible Ted. Alice is that kind of miracle, only completely different... out there where, in the lingo, difference and sameness are one thing.
So it's not just their voices. Just about any bozo can have a good enough voice to talk for hours and remind me of falling asleep to the sound of my father talking with his buddies in the kitchen when I was a toddler. The content of their speech can just so completely wipe the agony of all the idiocy out there off my very bodily organs.
And Alice knows from war. Very, very, very intimate knowledge of the horrors, the real life death-dealing of protecting the women and children, how there are no sides at the heart of the matter. There is only good and evil in every direction and the one who takes it on fights THAT battle, no matter what "side" it is inhabiting, or you are ruined. We are ruined.
Beside giving my friends a way to know whether and/or how I am still happening, I try to blog stuff every day, in an effort to articulate that point about good and evil to whomever has ridden karma to my shores here on the pipes. You all know some days are much better'n others, but well... biorhythms. I have them. Just not in any organized sense.
Good and evil need plucking from the soup of consensus trance if you want to have been worth the oxygen and attention that went into sustaining you through your life.
In that sense, the globalist psychopaths ARE trying to address a real problem. They're just doing it from a psychopath's way of seeing the world... their prize... their prerogatives... their supremacy. It's filthy and it feels like a swarm of fire ants holding a rave on your naked body, but their bid to kill off the chaff out here IS "ecofriendly" and WILL insure a sort of "heaven on earth". Just psychopath heaven.
Aka, hell.
Who can look that closely and determine with their very life what "side" their cells are on and live it?
Not theoretically. Actually. Not as something you only SAY, and maybe not even wholly as something you do, but WHO YOU ARE. Alice speaks to me there. A bunch of them do, but Alice KNOWS it.
So I wasn't going to fall asleep and wake up dead. The cosmos decided to give me back some chi. That, dammit, that silly old broad's heart is in the right place and she needs watering.
pipe up any time....
