PLAN BK: The Solutions - Prologuing Progress

Okay...

I'm still messed up by that last blog.

I can't believe it.

I can't believe I wasted 4 hours on a date too.

(She bought me dinner, and she's a great girl, it's just...)

(I don't "date", I keep everything casual, every shortie's a homegirl, and I shoulda ran off earlier but was having fun. I guess individuals have issues to fix too, and I've been told by the strange voices in my head that I need to get out more...)


(...)


I just ran the story by my happy-go-lucky brown emigre coffee shop guy, a great guy really, and it took a couple of tries to calm him down from finding it "funny" to taking it and me more seriously. (Read "funny" as sympathetically absurd, not malicious.)

Hell, I even apologized for telling him.

I know we're not supposed to talk about this stuff today: it's "bad form" to discuss how fast the world is getting worse.


(???)


We settled on the understanding that it's something that - if not here and now, still at some point needs to be said. His smiling face darkened as he realized again through our conversation what we all know and suppress inside: they're going absolutely crazy, and appear to be unbelievably ambitious about it.

I did say analogously that next "they" may ask him for a blood sample to work at the coffee shop.

And no, it won't be George, Donald, Alberto, Condi, Dick or any of the other torturers and murderers: it'll be an American company that makes DNA kits inking a deal with the coffee shop. The same company that lobbied for laws in the U.S. will work in concert with the fascists in charge to push for those same laws around the world, ensuring future niche global domination.

This is not new: and that's why the world is a horrible place.

I mean sure, it's beautiful: I've seen far more than my fair share and enjoyed the hell out of it.

However, it's a pretty crappy party overall when 1% of the people control the vibe, the music, the food, and who gets killed at it; then they decide not to feed half, force the rest to constantly clean up, and sit back and set fire to a pile of booze and food while laughing like maniacs.

This. Must. Stop. Now.


(...)


"Qui bono" is latin for "Who profits?"

(Thank you for the term Alex Jones - consider this co-branded.)


It's always about this: nobody does anything without getting paid anymore.

(Thank you for the info Black Krishna - consider this a public service.)


Any cop or prosecutor will tell you to follow the money to find the crime, and that's exactly what this is. Money is the root of all evil, and the bigger the pile of money the better chance of finding evil.

"Why" they profit is just as important: what are they up to?


(...)


Make no mistake: money can't buy happiness.

But: it can do a great job of selling it.


(...)


All you have to do is understand they don't even bother using "logic" or public debate anymore: reality changes, and the "facts" are fixed around the "intelligence".

We're getting pretty stupid.

Stuff is coming at us so fast that we don't have time to process and understand it, and default to the widely disseminated construct of the context they're giving us.

The debate is pre-packaged garbage, designed to lead to two sides arguing for the same basic conclusion: we need to do "it", we're just dickering over exactly how...


(...)


They are selling us everything by making it either "normal" or "necessary", and we're too busy to figure out that:


a) They've been a bunch of liars. (Historically.)

b) They aren't really making sense. (Literally.)


Seriously, you can take wearing underwear outside your pants as making sense if you want to, because:


a) It will add a colour swash to monochrome pantlegs.

b) It's a good splash-guard against pee-pee.


And that's cool, however, if you don't want to then:


a) You've clearly got something to hide. (Like crappy underwear.)

b) You've clearly got some crappy underwear. (Like Wal-Mart.)


(...)


Money makes thoughts: that's what advertising is.

There is no doubt we believe that.


Money makes policy: that's what lobbyists do.

There is no doubt we believe that.


Money makes thoughts that support lobbyist policy.

There is some doubt we believe that.


There shouldn't be: we're doing half the work ourselves...

We're just not on the payroll...


(...)


We can argue with each other about stuff we don't care about...

But we gotta take the bile outta bitching about bullshit...

Or we'll forget what we care about...


(...)


BONUS: Where did we come from?


A message repeated from Google/Blogger...


There were errors during upload.
The following images were not uploaded.

* bush - $25mm reward for Osama and Saddam.jpg


(What the hell was that???)


(Look... just watch the flick below, this stuff is driving me crazy...)


* The Money Masters - The Federal Reserve is privately owned by a few big banks. (Seriously. It's in the phonebook's "white" pages and not the "blue" government pages, plus, plus, plus...)

SOURCE - http://www.heartbone.com/various/RedPillVideos.html#D41


(...)


"Is it, money or women, the funny beginnings, tragic endings,
I can make a million and STILL not get enough of spending,
And since my life is based on sinnin, I'm hellbound,
Rather be buried than be worried, livin' held down,
My game plan to be trained at, military-
Mind of a Thug Lord, sittin' in the cemetary,
Caught, I've been lost since my adolescence, callin to Jesus,
Ballin' as a youngster, wonderin if he sees us,
Young black male, crack sales got me three strikes,
Livin in jail, this is hell, enemies die,
Wonder when we all pass, is anybody listenin?
Got my, hands on my semi-shotty, everybody's snitchin',
Please God, can you understand me?
Bless my family?
Guide us all, before we fall into insanity?
I make it a point, to make my beat-bumpin' warlike,
Drop some shit, to have these stupid bitches jaws tight..."

"'Til Makaveli returns, it's +All Eyez On Me+
And you can hate it or love it, but that's what it's gon' be
You shoulda listened, I told you not to fuck with me
Now can you take the pressure, that's what we gon' see..."

- 2Pac and 50 Cent, "The Realest Killaz"