Tuesday 8 November 2011

What is it that makes you puke most about the NWO/OWO?

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Is it the fact that they think we are all too stupid to notice a fakir?

Is it the fact that they think we are all blinded by the various paid and unpaid agents of muppetdom spewing nonsense, broadcasting barphdom, making bitchboydom a great boybitch career move?

Or is it just the general stench that surrounds their spastic marionettes?

What is it about this malarkey that they think we didn’t notice?

Do they seriously believe that we cannot see what a precarious balancing act these one shot crown bearers stagger through?

Or is it less to do with the trappings and more to do with their obvious game of going back to the future?

The reason they do this stuff is not just because they hark back to when they were pharaohs on a special dias, it is because they hope to imprint on our DNA the habits of serfs, by repetition, over and over and over ad infinitum. I mean could you do this without pissing yourself unless you knew, sincerely knew; you were an instrument for effecting stasis?

That is only one facet of the shine job on us. They are never after change, only their limp tools talk about that, they require restasis.

These types of hidden meaning, though obvious, ceremony, ritual and worship are what really makes me bauk. I want change, never ending change towards more and more advanced forms of living and progress, however all decided by us. Our NWO. Not theirs.

These parasites and these clowns would be happy living in an agrarian or feudal despotic oligarchy.

Does their master think that we don’t know that if his minions ever get their lazy, degenerate, fat arses round to completing his great work, that we don’t know he’ll smite them from reality instantly upon completion? I mean if you were Beelzebub would you want any of these traitorous self centred skryptopsychomeatsacks, onanist Reduced Instruction Set Creations clogging up your paradise?

It is all supposed to be too much for us to get our heads round. All the layers, secrets and camouflage that they have assembled around their great project. We are not supposed to be anything other than stunned, fearful and silenced by this and this.

However each time they pull fetishist sacrifices like this and this they run out of room to manoeuvre, each trick they pull another nail in their coffins and with each failed attempt at control another grain of sand escapes until they are buried in their own desert of hubris.

Oh and another day closer to when Auld Nick slits their collective throats. For even though they may look far back in time to when they ruled by fiat, his nibs looks back even further and has truly no further use for them at all.

Nothing that has happened, that we are not supposed to have figured out, can eclipse what is to come.

It is that simple.

Bring it on.