personal rants and musings

Leaving the Room

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When the walls start closing in…
Some decide to leave the room.

Debs was an amateur artist. Trying to be creative is something we always respect in a person. It never matters how ‘good’ others may perceive their endeavors, it’s the fact they made the attempt and that’s good enough for me.

Debs was my deceased brother-in-law’s 1st ex-wife. Their daughter in Florida called this morning saying that her mother ‘left the room’ Christmas Eve doing the overdose last walk and dance. She left a note. She also left 3 children, 4 grandchildren and one on the way. She had problems and chose the door of no return.

The whys are beyond our comprehension. If those around had understood, they may have been able to change course but that’s hindsight, a too often guilty obsession with what could have been, thoughts that burn.

It’s seems strange that we were mentioning the scourge of pharmaceuticals in the last post and then came word of Deb’s demise. By her own admission she suffered with long term depression and was no stranger to the doctors’ dope. She obviously had enough at hand to end the pain.

After the initial shock, anger and hurt ….. judgement of her most personal last action will fade. Forgiveness always makes for better memories.

Deb’s paintings

End of a Small Era

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Every road has an end

Everyone has heard a similar story. A small business, a working class entrepreneur trying to keep some semblance of a middle class existence continues to lose business through no fault of his own until there is no business. The recession turns into a depression for the little man who only wants to work for himself and not be a cog in some sort of corporate machine. Being your own boss means make or break.

For almost six years I’ve worked right alongside my son-in-law. He’s been in business for about 15 years doing what he likes to do. Until 2008 there was never a time without a job waiting in the wings. So successful it seemed like it would never end except on his own terms. Pride in workmanship was never lacking. A bulldozer, a tractor trailer to haul it with and a four wheel drive dually with tools and fuel tank, all paid for, combined with independence, desire and drive should be a very practical situation but as the old say goes, “nothing lasts forever.” Tomorrow the dozer is being sold.

The business is not ending because of competition. All the small time full time competition in the area went out over two years ago. Being essentially the local last man standing didn’t make any difference. It wasn’t because of shoddy work. The work done was equal or better than anyone else. It wasn’t because of excessive rates or dishonesty. It was an honest business charging less than most.  No, it was an economic collapse that all along was designed to strip the middle class individual of not only the chance to work but to eventually take everything he had worked for.

These kinds of businesses don’t show up in the statistics. There’s no unemployment to be paid. It won’t even be counted as one of the many small businesses to fall because those that do the counting won’t even know. It will be as if it never existed except in the memory of a few.

The up close reasons for going out of business are few and simple. People don’t have the money and if they do they are holding on to it for fear of needing it later. Retirees who made up a significant portion of the work and who had money in the stock market scams have lost a big portion of it and don’t have it to spend. The unemployed can’t afford any kind of work done. They just want work for themselves. Higher diesel and insurance costs cannot be passed on to customers who are barely making it themselves. Advertising was never seen as needed until 2008 and it was essentially a dead expense that brought in few clients in a dying economy.

The seemingly distant reasons are what we all know. The corruptions of Wall Street, government, the Federal Reserve and war are the basics. We are the ones paying for their theft and crimes. Some would say we are projecting blame. I call it as just stating the facts.

To add insult to injury, my son-in-law is selling out for less than the real value of the equipment to get cash to get by on until he can figure out what to do next but it doesn’t end there. His tax lady says he will probably owe around 12% in federal income taxes on what he sells. Being forced to pay taxes for going broke should not happen. This is in a country where many billion dollar profit corporations get around paying anything. And where will his tax money go? Oh yeah, interest on debt to the federal reserve.

Myself, I escaped the corporate world after a near lifetime of it. I just didn’t want to die in the cesspool that the big corporations had become. Even though I only made a fraction of what I used to, working outdoors was a refreshing relief. The sunshine, the fresh air, seeing things in the wilds of our area – waterfalls, caves, hilltops, forests, nature – that very few ever get to see was an adventure. Sometimes the work was easy, sometimes very hard. We had even expanded beyond excavation and earth construction into other areas just to try and stay busy. I’m going to miss it and don’t any idea what I’m going to do next.

It’s a fairly typical scenario. There will be no easy or quick solutions. People are not looking for sympathy or handouts. They just want to make a living and support their families. Maybe have a little fun in the process. Getting rich is not the goal for most. Happiness and love of what you do is not too much to ask for.

This is not just the end of an era for numerous individuals. It is the end of an era for the world. Things are changing, and fast, for all of us. What we make of it and what we do to effect positive change is our challenge.
We are up for it. I have faith.

Nostalgia is sometimes looking back and wondering why it is that you have outlived a few of those who were younger and more talented in certain areas than you. 
Remembering some of the best musicians I’ve ever known. Mark and Alan … rest in peace.

Looking Through the Knothole As We Pick and Choose

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As if being myopic is not enough of a handicap, we hide behind our fences and think that it will keep us safe. Every now and then we peep through the knothole and marvel at what we see, not realizing that it is only a fraction, a fragment of what is.

We are beings of pick and choose. We choose our beliefs, our friends, our enemies, our poisons. Most of the time they are actually chosen for us and we go along for fear of being labeled an outsider, of not fitting in, of being so different. No one wants to be a freak in a freakish world, a leper outside the colony, so we take our indoctrination in stride, as normal.  Normal can never be defined but we still have these doctors, lawyers, merchants and thieves who always try.

We are caught in the crossfire of contrived cultures, inundated by those around us yelling “pick me, pick me, I am the one, I will give you meaning.” It is an act of defiance to yell back “I don’t know” but not knowing is slammed as ignorance and not as what it is, a realization of our limitations.  

The weapons of conformity go well beyond being cast as misfits. They become the tools of violence, the ultimate threat to keep us in line and accept our plight. We choose their way or die. Sometimes it’s as simple as that. Sometimes it makes no difference. Many die so that the rest conform to the will of a miniscule minority. History tells this tale and history repeats whether we like the repetition or not.

Robert Johnson never had a thing on us. We are always going down to the crossroads to see if the trade is still on. Our soul for something or the other. Our choice or so we tell ourselves but often there’s no choice to be seen, only a blind following of impulses and desires formulated in the back rooms and unleashed in the disguise of free will.

No matter what our philosophy or religion or lack thereof, it is all pick and choose. We take what we think we need and leave the rest. We like one part but maybe despise other aspects.  It all depends on our background, our learning, our self-deceptions. We may disagree but still share the the same roots, that of choice … or at least we think of it as choice.


For an example of picking and choosing, we’ll take a look at the team that is one of the most notable occult (hidden) story tellers, Alice Bailey and Djwhal Khul, the Tibetan. We’ll pick and choose the words and some concepts. Bailey’s baby, Lucis Trust, is now a UN control mechanism depicted to eliminate the chaos of orthodox religions in order to usher in something new. Bailey’s words are portrayed as both Luciferian and new age. I suppose it depends on who chooses the definitions.

This is not at all a promotion of Bailey and Lucis Trust, only that over the past 40 years or so I have found the writings interesting and they were my first introduction to the jewish and zionist dilemma. Reading a number of the books long ago I was working from the premise that although I didn’t understand much of what I read, maybe someday I would. Many of Bailey and the Tibetan’s writings will rely on a belief (root word belie or to be deceived) system which I prefer to avoid. Still, there is a type of education involved even if we pick and choose what we want to highlight.

In the works of Alice Bailey, the process of creating a concept, or “building a thought-form” is viewed as a deeply esoteric magical act. We are, quite literally, talking about the construction of a form in the subtle matter of the mental plane. This form can then take an emotional body, and an etheric body, and go on to produce an impact in the three worlds of human evolution. While anyone who thinks is engaged in this process all the time, this is usually in an undisciplined and incoherent fashion. Most thought-forms are copied, with varying degrees of accuracy, from pre-existing forms, made either by the thinker, or by other thinkers, e.g. friends and family, co-religionists, media commentators etc.. Very few thought-forms are entirely new and original, as most people, most of the time, are quite happy to go along with the general flow of human thought-life. In one sense, this is fine, as the human tendency to conserve and repeat useful forms of thinking is what gives persistence to societies and civilisations. However, at times like these, when multiple global problems threaten to undermine the very basis for civilised life, the need for new forms of thought becomes more urgent. 

….. new forms of thinking in a group context. By jointly focusing our thoughts on a specific issue, we can hope to touch greater heights of inspiration; and a diversity of minds can offer a wider selection of viewpoints on one idea. The group thought-forms which we build can become magnetic beacons of intuitive wisdom, energizing new forms of service. Thus we can help precipitate the emerging evolutionary Plan.

Mediation, visualization, the building and projection of thought forms for the benefit of mankind are a little of the story. If interested there are extensive excerpts of the Bailey books available here although they do require a free registration. Much to ponder, some to reject out of hand especially if one is well versed in hidden history but lots to speculate on in light of the insanity of today’s world.

The Lucis Trust has even been accused of being behind the “Occupy” movement but that’s a stretch. For those looking for a freemason link, Bailey’s husband Foster was a 32nd degree so that will lead to all sorts of speculation about Bailey’s writings being used to lead to a one world government. With the UN/Lucis Trust connection, that kind of speculation cannot be totally dismissed.

Bailey and DK have been extensively criticized as racist and anti-semitic for their views on zionism and the jewish religion and history. Keep in mind that Bailey died in 1949, soon after the creation of the illegitimate state of Israel and so she never got to truly absorb the ramifications of what was to come although she did anticipate the implications. 

For an overview of their writings on these issues I’ll refer you  here.

I’ll pick and choose some excerpts …

If Jewish religion (covenant-based identification) is evil, then Zionism, or identification with Israel, the ancient Land promised through covenant, is doubly evil. [Combine the two into the religious Zionist, and we have manifold evil! This implies that the Israeli settlers, so thoroughly group-bashed by global media for vague “crimes against humanity”, are being viewed as transgressors on levels that go beyond political correctness.] The Holocaust, which justified a Jewish homeland in the eyes of the world, for Alice Bailey only had the unfortunate effect of bringing the Jews “under the control of a glamour” which encouraged them to expect a land of their own. She categorically states, “Today the Jewish people are engineering trouble…. They are claiming a land to which they have no possible right.” Moreover, the motive was “greed and not any love of Palestine behind it.” 

Bailey was horrified when the State of Israel was actually established, blaming the American Jews for coercing the UN into this “mistake”. In fact, the Zionists single-handedly “lowered the prestige” of the United Nations and “made its position both negative and negligible to the world.” (_Rays and Initiations_, p.681) Not only this, but “the Zionist Dictators… were attempting (somewhat unsuccessfully) to be to the Jewish people what Stalin and his group, and Hitler and his gang, have been to their people…. They worked through the same methods.” (p.634-636) Bailey lamented that the U.S. had decided to support “aggression and territorial theft” when “they could have worked for the Principle of Harmony [achieved through conflict and destruction – p.623] and permitted time and the non-separativeness of the nations to adjust and solve the Jewish problem.” (p.636)

How do the Jews perpetuate their separation and provoke nearly universal hostility? For one thing, “their extremely materialistic tendencies” have caused them to adopt “undesirable and devious business methods, which have made them greatly disliked and mistrusted in the world of business” – although at the same time they somehow built a reputation as “patrons of the beautiful” and “the world’s great philanthropists”. (_Humanity_p.97)

They “live off” the surrounding peoples and “take what they want… no matter what the cost to others,” in order to survive through persecution and wandering. Add to all this the commitment “to preserve… their national religion, their national taboos and the ancient landmarks”, and we have a picture of “the most reactionary and conservative race in the world.” (_Humanity_p.97-98) All of these faults have been amplified by centuries of “racial purity” mandated by “the orthodox Jews”. With such a history, it is no wonder that “as a race, he is nowhere liked and people are on guard against him and his methods,” (p.99) and that “no country anywhere wants to open its doors and offer the unwanted Jews asylum.” (p.104) [Something mysterious happened to the “welcome” waiting for them “in many countries throughout the world” which the Zionists stubbornly ignored. (_Externalisation_ IV, p.615, quoted above) ] And lest we try to belittle the effect of the Jews by noting other migrating peoples in history, the “Tibetan Master” emphasizes: “There is no other problem like it in the world today.” (_Humanity_ p.103) The Jews are “the problem child within the family of nations.” (p.104)

Strong words.

One may dismiss Alice and friends as new age cultists attempting to manipulate the masses as so many religions do. Could be but one thing we may agree on is that the ‘teachings’ are at least a step above the death cult of talmudic judaism/zionism and its bastard offspring christian zionism. That’s not a good enough reason to become a ‘follower’ of the musings of Alice and DK but perhaps the point is that we do have choices, we can make a difference and it all begins with a thought.

One Half of the Sideshow

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The music for the moment is silent …

My good friend and musical compadre Mikey is right now in a precarious place. He’s been hospitalized for over two weeks and was just moved to St. Thomas Hospital in Nashville where tests have indicated and the doctors are now saying that there is an urgent need for brain surgery to remove a tumor to relieve the massive headaches and vomiting that have caused him to lose thirty pounds. At 52 years old and with no health insurance, the predicament seems overwhelming. The good news is that St. Thomas doesn’t appear to be concerned with who will pay and is doing everything they possibly can, unlike Vanderbilt Hospital who refused to admit him.

Mikey and I have been playing music together for around twenty years.with various other musicians but mainly the last several years just the two of us in our near weekly jam sessions that we have always called therapy. Our motto was that we were ‘happy amateurs.’ 

The name of this blog was actually taken from what we dubbed ourselves … the ‘sideshow.’

It’s been hard to concentrate on the ‘big picture’ with all of this going on. It goes to show that individual plights trump everything else.

I’ll be taking a bit of time off from my ramblings here and do what I can to help he and his family through this difficult time and to reassure Mikey that he has friends who love him.

If you are so inclined, please offer up a prayer, thought or meditation.

"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man’s." – Mark Twain

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Cheyenne ~ Feb. 26, 1995 – Jan.15, 2010

A friend, an ally, a loved one …

“I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren’t certain we knew better. They fight for honor at the first challenge, make love with no moral restraint, and they do not for all their marvelous instincts appear to know about death. Being such wonderfully uncomplicated beings, they need us to do their worrying.” George Bird Evans

“Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.” Agnes Sligh Turnbull

The reason why on 9/11 I didn’t believe a damn thing they said

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The April 19th, 1995 ‘false flag’ attack on the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City
9/11 was over six years after the OK City bombing. We had plenty of time to get the ‘alternative’ viewpoints to what the main stream media was telling us and some came to the conclusion that our ‘government’ would kill their own to help move along their agenda.

There wasn’t much of an internet in 1995 but there was a daily source of talk radio on the ‘patriot network’ shortwave stations at night. I don’t remember the names of any of the hosts but I certainly remember Retired Brigadier Gen. USAF, Benton K. Partin. He was a frequent guest on these shows telling his side of the OK City ‘terrorist’ attack and cover up to anyone who would listen.

Now some may say that General Partin doesn’t exist because he is not included in Wikipedia but I listened to him many times. He did have a voice. Other shortwave talk during that time was about Waco, the 1993 WTC bombing and Ruby Ridge plus a generous helping of IRS and Federal Reserve crimes.

The anti-criminal government ‘militia movement’ that was building by the day had to be curtailed and that’s what OKC was all about. Truth is always a threat to the oligarchy and ‘false flag attacks’ using patsies to blame either a ‘lone nut’ or a group that needs to be an enemy is a tried and true black op technique.

The gradual evolution of alternative information sites on the internet solidified our suspicions.

So it wasn’t much of a stretch on 9/11 when I was sitting in a conference room with fellow co-workers and saw the first WTC tower collapse and immediately say “The world will never be the same” while wondering what the ‘official’ story was going to be and flashing back to the OK City attack.

A friend came over to watch the TV coverage that night and you may remember when the networks cut to live video of bombs exploding in Kabul which later was said to be be ‘insurgent attacks’. We thought the war had already begun. He turned to me and said “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I said “Yes, but it will be better if it is terrorists, we can handle that a whole lot better.” But wishful thinking doesn’t make it so. Prayers after the fact don’t change a thing. No one said much the rest of the night.

It wasn’t that we knew much of anything, but we were aware of the past and how it repeats itself. From the JFK assassination and Vietnam to that moment, there were always the rumblings of a government that do not serve ‘we the people’ but only the few.

We’ve come a long way since 9/11. Enough evidence is available to have very intense investigations of 9/11, OK City and numerous other rogue government murders all over the world. Just lying us into the wars of Iraq and Afghanistan (and more to come) is a capital offense. No indictments and trials are going to come. Present political power must cover up the crimes of the past to maintain the illusions and increase their control of our lives.

So what do we do? How do we honor the victims of these crimes of the state?

How do we stop it from happening again?

Our ‘government’ is trying to turn the greatest mass murder on our shores into a ‘day of service‘ as a diversion to the lies.

There’s only one service we should ever have when it comes to 9/11. The pursuit of truth…and justice.

The Not-a-Woodstock Festival…Bull Island, Illinois – 1972

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The 40th anniversary of Woodstock reminded me of the large festival I went to on Labor Day weekend 1972.

To me it signified the end of the Woodstock Nation.


Advertised on the radio for weeks, the Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival at Bull Island, Illinois was supposed to be the next Woodstock. Several of us decided to go and loaded up.

Leaving from Murfressboro TN the day before the start of the music, we arrived late in the night. We were lucky to get there when we did and to get off of the interstate and park somewhere on a dirt road that led to the festival. Later we found out that hundreds, if not thousands, of cars were left on the side of the interstate and they got towed.

We slept until some time after daybreak and began a long walk to the festival’s gate. We didn’t have tickets but did have the cash to get in so we waited in line to pay our way. Almost to the gate, a group of folks began pushing on the flimsy fence and broke it down with someone yelling “It’s a free festival.” No one tried to stop anyone and we all politely walked through the downed fence and headed towards the stage which was still a long ways away.
The twenty dollars each not paid came in handy later on.

Well… what did we come upon first? Dope stands. That’s right, makeshift stands set up in a row with signs saying what was for sale. It was mostly acid; blotter, sugar-cube, capsules and pills. We checked them all out, talking to the vendors and decided on the sugar-cube.
It turned out to be a good choice as it was reported to be some bad acid, even bleach sold by some sorry scum just to make a buck or to disrupt the situation and hurting some folks in the process.

We never saw one cop the whole time we were there. The dope stands were taken down later that day but there were plenty more drugs of every kind to be found. Downers and heroin seemed to be the drug of choice for quite a few.

We walked around the site taking in all of what was going on, met up with some friends and staked out a place a little to the right of the stage about maybe 150 feet back.

We had carried a few supplies in with us, some food and water, soap, towels and blankets. Everything was needed and more so.

Before nightfall we were beginning to see that all was not well with the promised entertainment. Bands we had never heard of attempted to play but the organization was not there and the sound system was never right until later on in the night. It was a mess that only got worse.

But we didn’t care, we were in the midst of somewhere around 250,000 to 300,000 people and it began as a big party whether or not we had music. As it turned out, very few of the scheduled bands showed up and some that did would not play due to lack of being paid or just plain afraid of the crowd.

Overdoses were common. The PA announcer was continually yelling to not take this or that as it was bad and reminding people where the medical tent was. One guy was standing up spouting nonsense very loudly for a long time and began to get on people’s nerves until a couple of guys physically carried him off. The crowd around clapped and yelled.

Later that night, a very well endowed topless lady with a leather satchel full of ounces of pot made her way through the crowd hawking her wares. She sold out.

At one point the crowd was fairly quiet and a guy stood up and at the top of his voice screamed “this is dope to the max.” The crowd gave him an ovation.

It rained hard that night, shades of Woodstock, and that messed things up. Cheech and Chong played during it with everyone under plastic and blankets trying to stay dry.

I remember falling asleep sometime after that.

The next morning brought out the sun and everyone was walking around in pretty much a daze. What was unsettling was that many guys were going around begging for downers. Downers at a rock festival? We commented that this must be the end of the psychedelic era.

We were dirty from the mud and dust and since Bull Island was surrounded by water on three sides, we took a hike to wash up. Sure enough, many others had the same idea and why get your clothes wet, skinny dipping was the way to go.

We sat on the bank watching the nude bathers and getting up our nerve to do the same. At that moment there were probably a hundred or so in the water and we joined in. Glad we brought the soap. Then the helicopters began circling around very low with their cameras blazing. Naked hippies must have made their story for the nightly news a little more interesting.

Bands did play but who they were, I can only go by what others have written.

We left the next morning and I ended up driving the whole way back while the others slept.

I wouldn’t do it again but I wouldn’t take anything for the experience. It was what you might call ‘a different kind of fun.’

If I were a conspiracy theorist, I would swear that the festival was a set-up, a sort of psyops to put an end to the ideal of the Woodstock nation. If it wasn’t, then it was the biggest f**k up in the history of rock festival promotions.

A few more details…

The Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival, Bull Island

Erie Canal “Soda” Pop Festival

Rock festival ends in disillusionment

Additional Photos

Worst Rock Festival Ever? / 72 Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival