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Post by Healthy Merking on Jan 28, 2006 16:22:21 GMT -5
Evil existed before "dumb". Dumb is evil acting like it's innocent. Evil existed before "dumb". Dumb is evil acting like it's innocent. uhh doesnt evil have to be deprived of knowledge before it can be evil? isnt that dumb? PEACE this is the crux of where me and Kephrem disagree if you are not willing to sort this fundamental issue out then as far as i can see everything you have said is about as valuable as the textbooks they distribute in school |
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Post by jonnygemini on Jan 29, 2006 14:08:49 GMT -5
I happened upon this story by the Unabomber Ted Kaczynski and thought it was very insightful.
Once upon a time, the captain and the mates of a ship grew so vain of their seamanship, so full of hubris and so impressed with themselves, that they went mad. They turned the ship north and sailed until they met with icebergs and dangerous floes, and they kept sailing north into more and more perilous waters, solely in order to give themselves opportunities to perform ever-more-brilliant feats of seamanship.
As the ship reached higher and higher latitudes, the passengers and crew became increasingly uncomfortable. They began quarreling among themselves and complaining of the conditions under which they lived.
“Shiver me timbers,” said an able seaman, “if this ain’t the worst voyage I’ve ever been on. The deck is slick with ice; when I’m on lookout the wind cuts through me jacket like a knife; every time I reef the foresail I blamed-near freeze me fingers; and all I get for it is a miserable five shillings a month!”
“You think you have it bad!” said a lady passenger. “I can’t sleep at night for the cold. Ladies on this ship don’t get as many blankets as the men. It isn’t fair!”
A Mexican sailor chimed in: ”¡Chingado! I’m only getting half the wages of the Anglo seamen. We need plenty of food to keep us warm in this climate, and I’m not getting my share; the Anglos get more. And the worst of it is that the mates always give me orders in English instead of Spanish.”
“I have more reason to complain than anybody,” said an American Indian sailor. “If the palefaces hadn’t robbed me of my ancestral lands, I wouldn’t even be on this ship, here among the icebergs and arctic winds. I would just be paddling a canoe on a nice, placid lake. I deserve compensation. At the very least, the captain should let me run a crap game so that I can make some money.”
The bosun spoke up: “Yesterday the first mate called me a ‘fruit’ just because I suck cocks. I have a right to suck cocks without being called names for it!”
It’s not only humans who are mistreated on this ship,” interjected an animal-lover among the passengers, her voice quivering with indignation. “Why, last week I saw the second mate kick the ship’s dog twice!”
One of the passengers was a college professor. Wringing his hands he exclaimed, “All this is just awful! It’s immoral! It’s racism, sexism, speciesism, homophobia, and exploitation of the working class! It’s discrimination! We must have social justice: Equal wages for the Mexican sailor, higher wages for all sailors, compensation for the Indian, equal blankets for the ladies, a guaranteed right to suck cocks, and no more kicking the dog!”
“Yes, yes!” shouted the passengers. “Aye-aye!” shouted the crew. “It’s discrimination! We have to demand our rights!” The cabin boy cleared his throat.
“Ahem. You all have good reasons to complain. But it seems to me that what we really have to do is get this ship turned around and headed back south, because if we keep going north we’re sure to be wrecked sooner or later, and then your wages, your blankets, and your right to suck cocks won’t do you any good, because we’ll all drown.”
But no one paid any attention to him, because he was only the cabin boy.
The captain and the mates, from their station on the poop deck, had been watching and listening.
Now they smiled and winked at one another, and at a gesture from the captain the third mate came down from the poop deck, sauntered over to where the passengers and crew were gathered, and shouldered his way in amongst them. He put a very serious expression on his face and spoke thusly:
“We officers have to admit that some really inexcusable things have been happening on this ship. We hadn’t realized how bad the situation was until we heard your complaints. We are men of good will and want to do right by you. But – well – the captain is rather conservative and set in his ways, and may have to be prodded a bit before he’ll make any substantial changes. My personal opinion is that if you protest vigorously – but always peacefully and without violating any of the ship’s rules – you would shake the captain out of his inertia and force him to address the problems of which you so justly complain.”
Having said this, the third mate headed back toward the poop deck. As he went, the passengers and crew called after him, “Moderate! Reformer! Goody-liberal! Captain’s stooge!” But they nevertheless did as he said. They gathered in a body before the poop deck, shouted insults at the officers, and demanded their rights: “I want higher wages and better working conditions,” cried the able seaman.
“Equal blankets for women,” cried the lady passenger. “I want to receive my orders in Spanish,” cried the Mexican sailor. “I want the right to run a crap game,” cried the Indian sailor. “I don’t want to be called a fruit,” cried the bosun. “No more kicking the dog,” cried the animal lover. “Revolution now,” cried the professor.
The captain and the mates huddled together and conferred for several minutes, winking, nodding and smiling at one another all the while. Then the captain stepped to the front of the poop deck and, with a great show of benevolence, announced that the able seaman’s wages would be raised to six shillings a month; the Mexican sailor’s wages would be raised to two-thirds the wages of an Anglo seaman, and the order to reef the foresail would be given in Spanish; lady passengers would receive one more blanket; the Indian sailor would be allowed to run a crap game on Saturday nights; the bosun wouldn’t be called a fruit as long as he kept his cocksucking strictly private; and the dog wouldn’t be kicked unless he did something really naughty, such as stealing food from the galley.
The passengers and crew celebrated these concessions as a great victory, but the next morning, they were again feeling dissatisfied.
“Six shillings a month is a pittance, and I still freeze me fingers when I reef the foresail,” grumbled the able seaman. “I’m still not getting the same wages as the Anglos, or enough food for this climate,” said the Mexican sailor. “We women still don’t have enough blankets to keep us warm,” said the lady passenger. The other crewmen and passengers voiced similar complaints, and the professor egged them on.
When they were done, the cabin boy spoke up – louder this time so that the others could not easily ignore him: “It’s really terrible that the dog gets kicked for stealing a bit of bread from the galley, and that women don’t have equal blankets, and that the able seaman gets his fingers frozen; and I don’t see why the bosun shouldn’t suck cocks if he wants to. But look how thick the icebergs are now, and how the wind blows harder and harder! We’ve got to turn this ship back toward the south, because if we keep going north we’ll be wrecked and drowned.”
“Oh yes,” said the bosun, “It’s just so awful that we keep heading north. But why should I have to keep cocksucking in the closet? Why should I be called a fruit? Ain’t I as good as everyone else?”
“Sailing north is terrible,” said the lady passenger. “But don’t you see? That’s exactly why women need more blankets to keep them warm. I demand equal blankets for women now!”
“It’s quite true,” said the professor, “that sailing to the north imposes great hardships on all of us. But changing course toward the south would be unrealistic. You can’t turn back the clock. We must find a mature way of dealing with the situation.”
“Look,” said the cabin boy, “If we let those four madmen up on the poop deck have their way, we’ll all be drowned. If we ever get the ship out of danger, then we can worry about working conditions, blankets for women, and the right to suck cocks. But first we’ve got to get this vessel turned around. If a few of us get together, make a plan, and show some courage, we can save ourselves. It wouldn’t take many of us – six or eight would do. We could charge the poop, chuck those lunatics overboard, and turn the ship to the south.”
The professor elevated his nose and said sternly, “I don’t believe in violence. It’s immoral.”
“It’s unethical ever to use violence,” said the bosun.
“I’m terrified of violence,” said the lady passenger.
The captain and the mates had been watching and listening all the while. At a signal from the captain, the third mate stepped down to the main deck. He went about among the passengers and crew, telling them that there were still many problems on the ship.
“We have made much progress,” he said, “But much remains to be done. Working conditions for the able seaman are still hard, the Mexican still isn’t getting the same wages as the Anglos, the women still don’t have quite as many blankets as the men, the Indian’s Saturday-night crap game is a paltry compensation for his lost lands, it’s unfair to the bosun that he has to keep his cocksucking in the closet, and the dog still gets kicked at times.
“I think the captain needs to be prodded again. It would help if you all would put on another protest – as long as it remains nonviolent.”
As the third mate walked back toward the stern, the passengers and the crew shouted insults after him, but they nevertheless did what he said and gathered in front of the poop deck for another protest. They ranted and raved and brandished their fists, and they even threw a rotten egg at the captain (which he skillfully dodged).
After hearing their complaints, the captain and the mates huddled for a conference, during which they winked and grinned broadly at one another. Then the captain stepped to the front of the poop deck and announced that the able seaman would be given gloves to keep his fingers warm, the Mexican sailor would receive wages equal to three-fourths the wages of an Anglo seaman, the women would receive yet another blanket, the Indian sailor could run a crap game on Saturday and Sunday nights, the bosun would be allowed to suck cocks publicly after dark, and no one could kick the dog without special permission from the captain.
The passengers and crew were ecstatic over this great revolutionary victory, but by the next morning they were again feeling dissatisfied and began grumbling about the same old hardships.
The cabin boy this time was getting angry.
“You damn fools!” he shouted. “Don’t you see what the captain and the mates are doing? They’re keeping you occupied with your trivial grievances about blankets and wages and the dog being kicked so that you won’t think about what is really wrong with this ship—- that it’s getting farther and farther to the north and we’re all going to be drowned. If just a few of you would come to your senses, get together, and charge the poop deck, we could turn this ship around and save ourselves.
But all you do is whine about petty little issues like working conditions and crap games and the right to suck cocks.”
The passengers and the crew were incensed.
“Petty!!” cried the Mexican, “Do you think it’s reasonable that I get only three-fourths the wages of an Anglo sailor? Is that petty?
“How can you call my grievance trivial? shouted the bosun. “Don’t you know how humiliating it is to be called a fruit?”
“Kicking the dog is not a ‘petty little issue!’” screamed the animal-lover.
“It’s heartless, cruel, and brutal!”
“Alright then,” answered the cabin boy. “These issues are not petty and trivial. Kicking the dog is cruel and brutal and it is humiliating to be called a fruit. But in comparison to our real problem – in comparison to the fact that the ship is still heading north – your grievances are petty and trivial, because if we don’t get this ship turned around soon, we’re all going to drown.”
“Fascist!” said the professor.
“Counterrevolutionary!” said the lady passenger. And all of the passengers and crew chimed in one after another, calling the cabin boy a fascist and a counterrevolutionary.
They pushed him away and went back to grumbling about wages, and about blankets for women, and about the right to suck cocks, and about how the dog was treated. The ship kept sailing north, and after a while it was crushed between two icebergs and everyone drowned.
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Post by Healthy Merking on Jan 30, 2006 11:19:20 GMT -5
I too just happened on an article (unrelated to the thread) and found it to be very interesting. Scientists Find A DNA Change That Accounts For White Skin By Rick Weiss Washington Post Staff Writer Friday, December 16, 2005; A01 ... occurred by chance... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand the article falls apart |
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Post by Healthy Merking on Jan 30, 2006 11:21:21 GMT -5
this article looks like yet another piece of science fiction sprinkled with elements of truth
not bad on the whole tho
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Post by jonnygemini on Jan 30, 2006 18:54:13 GMT -5
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Post by Healthy Merking on Jan 31, 2006 13:09:53 GMT -5
"CHANCE"....a CHOICE....to be CHOSEN....share the same metaphysical exemplar in my opinion....and that is FATE... well ill be damned when you put it in that context id say i agree 100% as opposed to idea of the slap-happy-omg-i-won-the-lottery 'chance' that also floats around peoples heads the significance of context cant be underestimated i suppose peace |
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Post by jonnygemini on Jan 31, 2006 14:30:26 GMT -5
in these days of photoshop, a picture proves nothing BUT
you have to admit the lower half of young ratzinger's face looks quite similar in my picture and the one you posted...I would say "alien-like" for lack of a better adjective
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Post by jonnygemini on Jan 31, 2006 16:06:15 GMT -5
this is from the archives of a blog I read: Deconsumption
DATED 9/15/2005
Today's post reads:
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Post by Healthy Merking on Jan 31, 2006 19:43:16 GMT -5
I hear that the materialistic scientists are getting very close to producing an engine capable of interplanetary travel. either that or they are getting very close to understanding that we have always had the ability for interplanetary travel or they are close to understanding that there really is nothing to be gained from interplanetary travel or they are getting close to discovering that everything that CAN exist DOES exist needless to say there are many ways to say the same thing |
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Post by jonnygemini on Jan 31, 2006 21:24:36 GMT -5
even cowgirls get the blues by tom robbins -- An eastern master speaks to the spiritually deprived westerner
"No. I've already suggested that the spiritual desolation of the West probably has meaning and that that meaning might be advantageously explored. A Westerner who seeks a higher, fuller, consciousness could start digging around in his people's relgious history. Not an easy task, however because Christianity looms in the way, blocking every return route like a mountain on wheels."
"I don't get it. I thought that Christianity was our religous heritage. How has it blocked...?
"Oh, Sissy, this is really tiresome. Christianity, you ninny, is an Eastern religion. There are some wonderous truths in its teachings, as there are in Buddhism and Hinduism, truths that are universal, that is, truths that can speak to the hearts and spirits of all peoples everywhere. But Christianity came out of the East, its origins highly suspect, its dogma already perverted by the time it set foot in the West. Do you think there was no supreme deity in the West prior to that Eastern alien Jehovah? There was. From earliest Neolithic days, the peoples of Britain & Europe--the Anglos and Saxons and Latins--had venereated a deity. The Horned One. The Old God. A bawdy goat-man who provided rich harvests and bouncy babies; a hairy, merry deity who loved music and dancing and good food; a god of the fields and woodlands and flesh; a fecund provider who could be evoked through fornication as well as meditation, who listened to songs as well as prayers; a god much loved because he loved, because he put pleasure ahead of of asceticism, because jealousy and vengence were not in his character. The Old God's principal feast days were Walpurgisnacht (April 30) Candlemas (Feb 2) Lammas (Aug 1) and Hallowe'en (Oct 31st) The holiday you know call Christmas was originally a winter revelry of the Old God (historical evidence points toward Christ being born in July). These feasts were celebrated for thouasands of years. And veneration of the Old God, often disguised as Jack-in-the-Green or Robin Goodfellow, continued surreptitiously long after Christianity closed its chilling grip around the West. But The Christian powers were nothing if not sly. The church set out to willfully transformthe image of Lucifer, whom the Old Testament informs us was a shining angel, one of God's chief lieutenants. The Church began to teach that Lucifer had horns, that he wore cloven hooves of the lecherous goat. In other words, the leaders of the Christian conquest gave to Lucifer the physical traits--and some of the personality--of the Old God. They cunningly turned your Old God into the Devil. Thats as the most cruel libel, the greatest slander, the worst malicious distortion in human history. The President of the U.S. is a harmless carnival con man compared to the early Popes."
"If I--if we Westerners dug back into our heritage, what would we find there? Something valuable? Something as rich as your Oriental inheiritance? What would we find?"
"You'd find women, Sissy. And plants. Women and plants. Often in combination.
Plants are powerful and harbor many secrets. Our lives are bound up with the plant world far more tightly tahn any of us might imagine. The Old Religion recognized the subtle superiorities of plant life; it tried to understand growing things and pay them their due. One of the most highly developed orders of of the Old Religion, the Druids, took its name from the ancient Irish word druuid, the first syllable of which meant 'oak' and the second syllable, 'one who has the knowledge.' So a Druid was one who had knowledge about oak trees--and about the allegedly poisonous mistletoe that grows on oaks and that was sacred to the Druids.
Every village in the olden times had at least one Wise Woman. These ladies had profound expertise in botanical matters. Mushrooms and herbs were their intimates. They used plants to heal the body and to free the mind. These women were nuturers and nurses. Many of their herb remedies, such as digitalis(foxglove) and atropine(belladonna) are still in use today...(snipping some, getting tired of typing)
So there is plenty of treasure in your antiquity, if you could get at it. How it compares to mine is another matter. Maybe where it is lacking is in the realm of light. Buddha and Rama and Lao-Tzu brought light into into the world. Literal light. Jesus Christ also was a lving manifestation of light, although by the time his teachings were exported into the West, Saint Paul had trimmed the wick, and Jesus' beam grew dimmer and dimmer until, around the fourth century, it went out altogether. Christianity doesn't even have any warmth left; it probably never was very calorific. The Old Religion, on the other hand, was profoundly warm. It decidedly was not lacking in heat. But it was a heat that generated very little light. It warmed every hair on the mammal body, every cell in the reproductive process, but it failed to switch on the golden G.E. buld that hangs from the loftiest dome of the soul. There was enough pure sensual energy in the Old Religion that had it been directed toward enlightenment it surely would have carried its followers there. Unfortunately, it ws subverted and eneverated by Christianity before its warmth could be widely transformed into light. Maybe that's the path that needs to be completed, thats the logical goal for Western man. And the United States of America is the logical place for the fires of paganism to be rebuilt--and transformed into light. Maybe. Icould be wrong. But I can say for sure, there is plenty of treasure in your antiquity if you can get at it."
"But we can't go back," said Sissy. "We can't dwell in the past."
"No, you can't. Technology shapes psyches as well as environments, and maybe the peoples of the West are too sophisticated, too permanently alienated from Nature to make extensive use of their pagan heritage. However, links can be established. Links must be established. To make contact with your past, to re-establish the broken continuity of your spiritual development, is not the same as a romantic, sentimental retreat into simpler, rustic lifestyles. To attempt to be a backwoods homesteader in an electronic technology may be as misguided as attempting to be Hindu when one is Anglo-Saxon. However, your race has lost many valuable things along the road of so-called progress and you need to go back and retrieve them. If nothing else, to discover where you've been may enable you to guess at where you're going."
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Post by jonnygemini on Jan 31, 2006 21:54:54 GMT -5
Mr. Yakub and the Making of the Devil
The following is from a letter Amir Fatir wrote to a correspondent who requested his views on Yakub and the making of the Devil.
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Post by Healthy Merking on Feb 1, 2006 11:54:29 GMT -5
Mr. Yakub and the Making of the Devil The following is from a letter Amir Fatir wrote to a correspondent who requested his views on Yakub and the making of the Devil. that sounds just about as good as any other interpretation no matter what it still remains an effort to get thru the web of words and interpretations to feel it so to speak |
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Post by jonnygemini on Feb 6, 2006 20:39:12 GMT -5
Tam...
Yes they were mostly for you
Agree with the first part fairly wholeheartedly...I've already stated what I admire about Parsons and it was not his association with Crowley. Maybe his development of solid jet fuel was an experiment in crass materialism...I identified with his childhood obsessions with fantasy & scienece fiction, admired his ability & determination to mold ideas into reality...You quote Aun Weor's caution against the anti-Christ insude all of us, (heck you're always quoting Aun Weor...who & what else informs you??)...anti-christ was a mantle both Crowley & Parsons were eager to place upon their own shoulders...At one time in my life I was eager to identify myself as in opposition to what I perceived to be THEM, the power elite, the Christian majority, whatever...so I too eagerly defined myself by what I opposed rather than what I stood for...I've grown out of that & to my understanding Parsons did too...He was very fond of reciting this romantic poem harkening back to ancient times... EVO PAN or something....which I came across in both of his 2 biographies...So now we arrive at the Tom Robbins quote harkening back to our pre-Jehovan Western ancestry of goat gods, sacred women & plants...
then you say:
I don't like the monopoly/divinerighteousness Aun Weor & Kephrem claim deciding what is AUTHENTIC & GOOD & EVEN WORTHY OF STUDY...I've previously stated there is WISDOM in the gutters just as there is in the stars...In my favorite comic THE INVISIBLES & even raw's ILLUMINATUS I always struggle to define exactly who or what is the ILLUMINTAI who they are FOR and whether or not it is EVIL or GOOD...I'm not trying to get lost in a gnostic dualistic confusion of material/spiritual reality...BUT I don't feel you can't know whats really good unless you know whats really evil...I'm not about to exclude a whole spectrum of reality from my psyche or experience becasue Sam Aun Weor or Kephrem says its EVIL...I think the old relgion has some kernels of goodness in it, sensuality/sexuality is not merely a vehicle for escaping this plane/dimension...It is biological survival, it is a celebration of life itself and living the life of a monk/asthetic denying the sexual side of being as no more than an evil urge to overcome is fatally wrong IMHO no matter what Aun Weor or anyone sez...Crowley & Parsons were also powerful forces in shattering repressive Victorian sexual moires which caused more dysfucntions & perversities than honest expression of sexuality ever does
going back to Amir Fatir
I will read and explore those links you provided...
Not sure what promted this defense of Parsons, sea change in my sexual views...I do love to play DEVIL"S ADVOCATE...especially if it looks like the cause is lost...I'm a gemini trickster with a german shepherd, seeking wisdom in pagan traditions, spelunking through histories mysteries, connecting conspiricies and heresies with my comtemporaries, learning from what I please, not the antichrist, opposition don't define mine belief
I strive to balance
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Post by Healthy Merking on Feb 7, 2006 12:26:38 GMT -5
Hey LHX needless to say there are many ways to say the same thing The Master Aberamentho clearly stated that there's only One Way(Tao). Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.
For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few. - Matthew 7:13However, it has many forms of expression(Sufi, Dzogchen, Gnostic, etc.), even though all said expressions are showing the same Path. The only difference between 'different' Monads, being that we all walk the Path according to our individual karma. Can we agree on this? so in other words there are many ways to say the same thing and the same thing can be seen from many perspectives |
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Post by jonnygemini on Feb 7, 2006 14:04:29 GMT -5
via Jeff Wells' Rigorous Institution blog:  JFC Fuller's ArmySince I was fourteen or so I've had on my bookshelf a copy of JFC Fuller's Decisive Battles of the Western World. I knew he was a Major General, an early advocate of air power and mechanized assault, and a popular military historian. I'd known his philosophy of armoured warfare won more favour in Germany than in Britain, and that it became the blitzkrieg of commanders such as Heinz Guderian. And that was about it. What I didn't know was Fuller was both a fascist and an occultist, and no slouch at either. Fuller served on the Policy Directorate of Oswald Mosley's British Union of Fascists, and was the only Englishman honoured with an invitation to Adolf Hitler's 50th birthday party in 1939. He was also a life-long Thelemite and an early advocate of Aleister Crowley. A .pdf of Fuller's early study of Crowley, The Star in the West, can be read online here, www.93beast.fea.st/files/section1/fuller/Star%20In%20the%20West%20TNR.pdf and also his Secret Wisdom of the Qabalah. mysticalkeys.com/library/Fuller/JFC_Fuller-The_Secret_Wisdom_of_the_Qabalah.pdf (By the way, an online edition of his Foundation of the Science of War is hosted by the US Army Command and General Staff.) cgsc.leavenworth.army.mil/carl/resources/csi/fuller2/fuller2.aspHe was also an accomplished artist of occult subjects. That's his work, entitled "Knowledge and Conversation," next to his portrait in the above illustration. Kenneth Grant, in Outer Gateways, states that Fuller actually drew the sigils for Liber XII, "one of the most mysterious communications every received by Crowley" under alleged inspiration of the entity Aiwass. Grant adds that Fuller's sigils are evocative of those reproduced by purported UFO contactee George Adamski, who insisted that they were "not to be interpreted mystically, but as glyphs of the nut-and-bolt variety." (In the 1950s Adamski asserted he had been contacted by "spacemen" from Venus, much as the occupants of the airship of 1897 claimed to have been out-of-state rather than off-world. Now, the claims of origin are most often distant stars. The lies, whether human or trans-human, keep abreast of science's plausible denial.) Grant writes: So, what's the point? Two points: if we mean to combat fascism, then we should learn to recognize it on our bookshelves and in the mindbombs dropped by respectable fascists. (Fuller's Generalship of Ulysses S Grant is still an influential study of the Civil War strategist, though one Amazon reviewer does chide his history of The Second World War for barely mentioning the extermination of millions of Jews, Gypsies and Slavs.) Also, we had also better brush up on our occultism. Because we can't really know the fascist character if we project upon it our familiar secular and liberal mental landscapes. That is going to take us to mad places, but that's the nature of comprehending the method. |
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