Friday 29 June 2012

Corps Crop Rotation or a prelude to Part 13 of the Bomb Line; Part 1

A long time ago I bought, not unusually, a book to read on a rainy day. To be read for two reasons, its subject and its author. For a book is a magical green thing to me. I see them, I do not read them.

I do not think, I absorb and place away for another day; cytoblastic questions. These questions are instinctive. Not logical, not oratorical, not rhetorical, not terminal but spiritual. The opening of the closed system is key here.  For all of history is nothing more than the closing of all open systems discovered, the devariegation of culture, the sterile fief of the heathen and their monoculture of unbelief. As I have said before there is nothing more pitiable than an atheist, for they know not from what they flee in their blinded certitude. Then and only then are the questions reborn.

Many years after purchase I removed the unseen book from its place and started to read it on a long haul flight. When the book was finished a question was born.

What was Inchon really all about?

Those of you who know the legend of WW2 will be aware of the Big 3 meetings at Tehran and Yalta. We’ll talk a little about their real history later. I assume you will know the famous quip made by MacArthur as he left the Philippines all Terminator like. He is supposed to have said “I’ll be back”. I assume you are aware that Patton was going to abandon his military career until advised to stay in because “there was a big one coming soon”. We’ll talk more about Patton, or rather his famous Army, later.

When one knows all about the War Plan Orange force manoeuvres and exercises involving the big Ladies Sara and Lex, then one can glean a preconceived plan and those who saw the secret maps ex-ante. One can also see the skanksters sending out their orders and unlimited funding for their next stage in the sacred mission of their Admiralty. I mean who draws up plans for the rebuilding of down town Tokyo years before the first bit of gunfire and sniper if you don’t intend to finance the complete destruction of that city and ceremonial cremation of the inhabitants, which is a holocaust.

MacArthur knew he would be back alrighty. His subsequent removal after Inchon tells one that even a mighty connected warrior can get beyond his sell by date without knowing it.

Churchill also got the same treatment and he was “really connected”, his shelf life was of limited utility to the skanksters. The skanksters wanted UKplc socialised with a view to asset stripping the country in decades to come. I mean look at the place now. It is nothing but a massive administrative balls up. This is deliberate. Make sure nothing works and then sweep the unwanted into the dustbin of history. Here in UKplc the banks are state owned and bollox up everyone’s lives daily. Don’t forget HSBC are criminal drug runners and all UKplc does now is flog dodgy gear like Delboy. Ever been through Heathrow? What a dump! Machine pistols everywhere to protect us from our own terrorists, miles and miles of travelators not working, windey dank corridors where the face recognition software can scan your mug, rip off prices and yet only two things always function. Duty free and advertising spaces, a sure sign that there is no real terrorist threat at our airports for if there was these two items would be removed pronto Tonto.

It is a truth that cannot be repeated too often. Forget all we’ve been told about economic theory, which is made up fairy tales, the tip of so called capitalism/free trade/economic activity/communism/libertarianism any –ism is a bunch of religiokriminaltheives called bankers. They are instinctively communitarian and sociopathic. They cannot stand free people or diversity. Everything, I repeat, everything must be reduced to slavery in their monoheathism. And they have all the time in the world.

So there I am staring at another book I read on a holiday and wondering just what were the Big 3 really talking about at Yalta? All the secret stuff that we, the great unwashed, are not smart enough to be told about or wrap our heads round. Well as Lavender Luck would ask “ Whatwas the cold war really about?” 

Well let us play a little game here. Since most who are aware now suspect that there are powerful religiokriminal killer scribes at work scripting our reality, we should if we are smart enough, be able to rebuild the script from any given period by looking at the dead people. This isn’t revisionism, this is forensic story telling. The way I’m going to do this is to imagine a snippet of the conversation between the Big 3 that would sketch out the major events in Europe from 1945 to 1950.

C “Don’t look so hard put on Joe, as I said when we met in Tehran our principals were never going to let you turn the New Forest into our Katyn Wood. You have served our principals very well and your reward is coming. However gentlemen we have a problem as you know and that is what we have been tasked to resolve today.”

J “Hmmmph, do not forget who has massive tank armies already irresistibly heading west”

R “And don’t forget who feeds, fuels and provides the automotive power in this mess”

C “Gentlemen, we have work to accomplish and our principals expect action from us now. Let me describe what we all know the situation to be here and then address the problems that our principals foresee when the peace returns in Europe. Agreed?”

R “Agreed”

J “Dah”

Thursday 28 June 2012

100th monkey.

Image source.


What would it take to release a chimera out of Africa?


Monday 25 June 2012



Issuing or absorbing?

Am I a vessel that has been emptied or filled?

Am I half empty or half filled?

Demi foiled.




Am I recoiled?

Recalled to heathen?

What is it that fills my days?

Returned and vacuous, nominal and dated, never proofed and dedicated.

Desiccated proven full.

Three years, 36 months and innumerable 24/7s, don’t fuck with me on that, and at last I have an answer to a question I never asked myself.

Sounds undeniable.

What arc do I describe?

Why Dimona?

Sunday 24 June 2012


Forever young,

watch the sun,

your dulled sprite waisted away.

Yet you shine in your memory.

Shadowing our light.

Too smart for out dimensions.

Enjoy a man out of time.

I am glad you visited.

Friday 22 June 2012

The Bomb Line Part 12 of 13.

As usual this will begin arse about face then we go over to the other place.

I wrought a poem once, called “Grapes”. Upon reading it my friends wept. It is lost to me now as the subject matter was. All dead.

3 years out and closing. No answers yet, really, more questions, and yet the way is clear. It is as a great big flaming path, burning away, phosphorising the sodium fog on a bomber field of bared, beggared girl landing.

No strip too bare the teeth?

Before I round this one out read through this malarkey.

I particularly and peculiarly like this snippet.

“L.S.: Was the reason for the First World War basically a trap laid by the British and Russian elites – and the German leadership was stupid enough to step into that trap?
G.P.: A siege, yes, a mouse-trap. Yes, damningly stupid, indeed. Von Moltke’s (German) Chief of Staff had been invested in 1900 with political authority it did not know how to wield—and, in truth, it was not its role to exercise such power in the first place: it was as if by surrendering all might to the (dynastic and thus unfit) warrior caste of Prussia, Germania as a whole had spiritually abdicated. And by doing so it has cursed the whole of Europe ever since. A tragedy.”

There are no dates only a cycling long count.

He can go stick his head up his ass here.

“G.P.: From Gavrilo Princip (the Black Hand in Sarajevo) to these bogus Islamists by way of, say, the Montoneros in Argentina, the RAF in Germany or the Red Brigades in Italy, all of them are useful idiots, by definition. The terrorist’s psycho-sociological typology is fairly consistent across time and space:  s/he generally is of low middle-class/upper proletarian status, very young (well below thirty), not particularly intelligent, and death-prone. S/he is by definition, again, an expendable: or, more specifically a manipulable mediocrity. These useful idiots may come at certain junctures to play a critical role, of course. Terrorism is (elite) politics, never the weapon of the voiceless, but the very opposite.”

The magik numbers, the spell cast by only looking at the numbers 1939-1945.

The numbers, squadrons of them.

Like fleas.

Numbers do not exist.

Terminus frees me and should open my eyes to an answer for something I did not seek when I dumped in the ausphart 36 months ago.

2000 years is the least time it takes for power to remodel itself.

No numbers, no figures, no letters, no graves, no grieving, no empty space, no tears, no more death on demand, no wankstators.

Ritual, ceremony and worship are the jester’s clown.

Stop it.

Over we go.

Heavy weaponry

Image source.




All debt,

Never forgotten,

ever imperative,

Forever repaid.

We are stilled.

Thursday 21 June 2012

Thursday 14 June 2012

It is coming back.

Image sourced from deep black programmes in yer face.

So WTF has it been up to?

I have speculated that the next ritual kill fest will have robots dishing out the heavy calibre pharmaceuticals, no war crimes trials this time round, eh?

So what has the robot been seeding?

Bearing in mind that everything in the west is now sanctioned from fake money zentral, you've got to ask what have the Roth/Rock got their military hybrid minions up to?

It can only be engineered weather death on a massive scale.

No one wins except the banksters, they are perfidious.

Answers in a bottle cast adrift in space.

Monday 11 June 2012

Stay away;

you are not welcome.


Sunday 10 June 2012

My tears cry,

and no one will ever liven again.

However we know uninfinity.

His welommed kiss

That is where we give life.


I remember you, as the red petal blossomed upon my foot fall this night.

I remember.

I remember.

I will never forget, wherever

Bring it on refuge refugees.

AgwIn we go. The sold.

No touch of nothing Lala can sale the lightnening stroke,

too much forever,


Friday 8 June 2012

To Dieppe.

South African and Northern Irish men made machine flesh by some at Somme.

All have forgotten the bantam and the pals.

Never forget that which we are not to see or what we are to forget, Jubilee.

“483 aircraft - 286 Lancasters, 169 Halifaxes, 28 Mosquitos - attacked railways at Alençon, Fougères, Mayenne, Pontabault and Rennes to prevent German reinforcements from the south reaching Normandy. All of the raids appear to have been successful. 4 aircraft were lost, 2 Lancasters from the Pontabault raid and 1 Lancaster and 1 Mosquito from the Rennes raid.

The first 12,000lb Tallboy bombs developed by Barnes Wallis were used on this night by No 617 Squadron in a raid on a railway tunnel near Saumur, 125 miles south of the battle area. The raid was prepared in great haste because a German Panzer unit was expected to move by train through the tunnel. The target area was illuminated with flares by 4 Lancasters of No 83 Squadron and marked at low level by 3 Mosquitos. 25 Lancasters of No 617 Squadron then dropped their Tallboys with great accuracy. The huge bombs exploded under the ground to create miniature 'earthquakes'; one actually pierced the roof of the tunnel and brought down a huge quantity of rock and soil. The tunnel was blocked for a considerable period and the Panzer unit was badly delayed. No aircraft were lost from this raid.

17 Serrate and 19 Intruder patrols, 34 aircraft minelaying from the Scheldt to Lorient.

No aircraft lost.

Total effort for the night: 585 sorties, 4 aircraft (0.7 per cent) lost.”

Tonight on the bomb line.

Never forget.

Thursday 7 June 2012



You want after half way

Ass hole can not comment.

All sides

Ass hole.


Image source? Where ever you are not wanted.



As I remarked a while back.

How long is the Long War?*

War is waged for no other reason than to remove the memory of those who know that given history is fiction.

Wednesday 6 June 2012

Tuesday 5 June 2012

Monday 4 June 2012

dyspeptic Wearpons R Ogld

Believe it? Go on do you really beelive it?

Weapons R not gold. H/T Winston

Saturday 2 June 2012

I’ve gone all Cox’s Bazar tonight…

And Cinnabar secrets.

Played spot the occult trade mark and won.

Not Ian Dury and the Blockheads.

Go on relax.