Newel Proselytism, Lone Rondure Syllabus

Brainwashing the masses is in full swing, establishing relentless highbrowed bashing from the media and movies. When did this all become so important? It started a long time ago, and is coming to an inescapable conclusion that the 1 percent of society is looking for ways to panic the bourgeoisie so they can establish marshal laws all over the world to exterminate the excess of humanity not worthy to survive in the new world order. They have no use for the under educated and the ignorant of society, They look upon the masses as useable, disposable merchandise to be used and refused at their discrimination. They have no empathy for survival of anyone common. Only their own selfish needs and desires to dominate, rob, and plunder the masses in order to keep themselves secure above anyone not in that 1 percent of the wealthy (wreathed) society. The Mini-Monarchs of our world need to take control once and for all to satisfy their insatiable greed and desire to make room for their cess spawned  bloodlines of the so called intellect and upper crust of proprietary knowledge, creating mazes of confusion purposely distorted to make anyone, without the key, believe that they are not intelligent enough to be as worthy of the 1 percenters of this new world order. They count on the masses (mob) at the correct time to rebel and cause a chaotic ruckus in order to justify and implement systematized laws and controls making it simple to justify the brutality from the abuse of power that will be unleashed upon the proletariats.

This will be willful in order to accomplish the desired, manageable population of slaves needed to keep the New World Order functional. Because do you think for one second that the 1 percenters and their spawns would want to work or get their hands dirty? They need slaves to do their bidding and crude chores so they can lay about like the lazy opulent scum they really are. They use surgical gloves to count their gold and diamonds in order not to smudge or get finger oil on the commodities of lavishness. Daily they worship the golden gods of dissipation, then disperse to abuse their under aged servants sexually and humiliate them to suicidal rebuke. Demons of ravenous legions evoke this lust daily,  rupturing adolescent wombs ensuring the Mini-monarch royal blood line can never be contaminated by the commoner scum slaves of the New World Odorous Order. Stench of lustrous sexual deviancy continues day and night, only to ultimately end in a exterminating frenzy of over zealous gatekeepers whom receive the leftovers and used of the perverted wreathed Mini-monarch sluice of degradation. Blood and vomit, ejaculatory fluids slicken the floor, only to be mixed with more semen and menstruated ovaries, in which the gatekeepers of the scummy Mini-monarchs gladly lap up only to regurgitate into cauldrons to boil and congeal into hokum spew-age stew to be fed to the vassals that are misfortunate enough to be enforced to continue their servitude of the Mini-monarchs of the New World Order.

From the Slave masters through the Gatekeepers, Dragoons, Militarists, Politicians, Mini-Monarchs up to the one percenters, they grope and chain to each other in securitised scrutiny, not one trusting each other, only used as a essential power mechanism in this demonic chain of corrupt brainwashed command.  However, even with the sophistication of this well organized beast of enslavement and toil, the slaves still outnumber this cumbersome powertrain of deceptive laws, domination and disorder. The slaves, because they have not the ignorance of the past conquered souls, now take organized action, forming a massive standstill of production. The dragoons and Militarists start to attack and kill the masses, but because of their own oppression, and the fact that they are killing their brothers and sisters who are only displaying a non-aggressive standoff of non-compliance, turn their blades of death and aggression to the ground and join their families and brothers and sisters in their non-aggressive standoff whereby the corruptive machine of profit and proprietary production is stopped and dismantled. The one percenters immediately attempt to bribe the masses to hire more Dragoons and Militarists, but have no leverage left because the monetary system that depended on the love of opulence is no more and discarded, replaced once more by the populist dedicated to serve one another in a community that is dedicated to survival of equality and truth. Money, gold and other so called precious measures of wealth are discarded and ignored. They are not needed in the advanced civilization the once was, in the not so distant past and can be again. The devil has no refuge in a community of illumines and justice for the masses.

The 1 percenters strike back with another flurry of opulence induced corruption  attracting the truly greedy and callous that idolize the master/slave analogy that has enthralled our existence since Cain struck Abel with the large rock, spilling Abel’s brains and blood to the ground. Even, after the great flood, Cain’s influence carried on through out the ages, at first as a small glimmering trickle, then forming into a mass river of vile and degradation, promoting greed and aggressive idolization . But the meek are sure of their repose and intelligence, and remain steadfast, not giving into the temptation and creating an equilibrium that pushes the 1 percenters and their ravenous followers back, to allow new hope for the truly intelligent civilization that rejects the opulence that has enslaved our communities to serve the Mini-monarchs and their puppeteers, the 1 percenters. The seeds are being planted, and the 1 percent and their minions do everything in their power to contaminate these seeds before they germinate, in the attempt to control and conquer the masses once more to do their greed inductive bidding. But, it is the seed, not the contamination that truly sprouts and as long as the miracle of life can flourish, then the contaminants are shed like dead tissue, not able to truly control the natural paths, only distort them.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

3-60’s Beatniks in Granny Boots

Fall-Winter-Episode 2: This Grass is definitely Greener!

As the van’s vortex spin finally stopped, the 3-60’s Beatniks with Granny Boots, looked through their circular rose shaded glasses, out the windshield and seen what looked to be the Whitehouse in Washington DC. The yard lights well illuminated the front lawn. “Where are we Sara?” Looks like some rich dude’s house.” said Mary with a nervous stare. “It is the Whitehouse dummy!” said Sara gawking in amazement. “Yes the house is white Sara, but whose house is it?” asked Marsha with a clueless look. “The Whitehouse? Come on Marsha, please don’t make me explain the Whitehouse. You know? Where the President lives? With his Wife? Earth to Marsha?” said Sara in amazement. “President? Really? May be we should get off their lawn Sara. Like now!” said Mary watching armed soldiers running towards the VW van. “Oh that Whitehouse. I thought you meant a white house.” said Marsha looking in the passenger sun screen mirror, applying more makeup, impervious to the approaching soldiers and swat teams. Sara, ignoring Marsha’s comments, tried to start the VW van. The motor started to sputter, then started. Before Sara could put it into gear, the van was completely surrounded with several automatic weapons pointed point blank at the windows and windshield. “Turn the vehicle off, roll down your window, throw the ignition keys out the window and leave both hands out the window in plain view! You other two, place your hands on the dash now!” commanded the soldier, closest to the driver door with a automatic rifle pointed at Sara’s head through the driver’s door window. Sara, slowly, turned off the ignition, held the keys in view with her right hand, rolled down the driver’s door window with her left hand, tossed the keys out the window, and held both her hands out the driver window in plain view. Within seconds, Mary and Marsh placed both their hands on the dash for the soldiers and swat teams to see. Quickly, the soldier de-cocked his automatic weapon, pulled out a large, white, plastic tie and secured Sara’s hands together, opened her door and firmly pulled her out of the VW van and pushed her face first into the lawn. There he removed another large plastic tie and bound her legs at the ankles. By this time, other soldiers had Mary and Marsha, on the lawn, face first bounding their hands and feet. Then, gunny sacks were put over Sara’s, Mary’s and Marsha’s heads. “Hey, watch it! I just put on some make up! Now you are smudging it all up!” complained Marsha in muffled tone, speaking through the gunny sack. “Is this how you treat all your dates? You must have a way with women! Good looking!” taunted Sara as the soldier half grinned while putting the gunny sack over her head. “Keep your mouth shut! Do as your told!” commanded one of the female soldiers close by, attempting to shed her West Virginian accent, opening the rear hatch door of the black MDV. “I hope she is not your girlfriend! If she is, she must be a ball buster.” said Sara muffled through her gunny sack, now taunting the female soldier. The male soldier chuckled lightly, then stopping seeing the female soldier was glaring enviously at him. Two other soldiers lifted and loaded Sara in the rear of the MDV, and four other soldiers did the same for Mary and Marsha, with Marsha squirming all the way. “You are making me a total mess!” complained Marsha being loaded into the MDV. On that note, the female soldier slammed the rear hatch door and got into the passenger door, while the male soldier climbed into the driver door. The MDV slowly drove off the Whitehouse lawn, to be careful not to ruin the grass.

Riding in the rear of the MDV, not able to see where they were going, Sara, Mary and Marsha were sitting silent. “You know, it really stinks in here! Do you ever clean this car out? Smells like dead fish or something! I am going to be sick!” said Marsha in a nauseating tone. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to complain about something, Miss Snob and Country!” said Sara through her gunny sack. “It smells more like old cheese or something! Not very pleasant Sara.” agreed Mary not very comfortable. “Well, mine smells like a gunny sack. So may be, your gunny sack was used to bag some fish guts, or Miss Militant’s dirty panties, Marsha! And yours Mary was used for moldy old military socks!” said Sara getting impatient with the ride. “Yuck, you mean I am smelling her old underwear? ” said Marsha breathing shallow and gagging. “She is just kidding Marsha!” said Mary nudging Sara hard with her tied  feet. “Well, if you do barf Marsha, at least you have the barf bag already on your head and you will not get your clothes dirty! But you will smudge your makeup!” said Sara sadistically getting more irate and uncomfortable. Mary then nudged Sara again with her tied feet. “I think I can hold it!” said Marsha calming down but still breathing shallow, thinking about not smudging her makeup.

Up front in the driver’s seat, the male soldier was snickering, trying to hold back his laughter. “Mark! Stop laughing please. Why are you encouraging her!” said the female soldier not impressed with Mark. “Dirty Panties? I thought those bags were clean?” said Mark half grinning watching the road. “You asshole!” said the female soldier folding her arms, looking out the passenger window. “Come on Patti! It was just a joke.” said Mark still grinning slightly. “You would think that was humour!” said Patti, still looking away out the passenger window. “Well, young professionals in love! How quaint! Tell me Patti? Does the CIA, NSA, FBI, or whom ever you are know about this little amored armored partnership?” said Sara chuckling in her gunny sack. “Keep you mouth shut or I will put a gag in your mouth to accompany that potato sack over your head!” threatened Patti now looking back where Sara was positioned. “Well, at least I did not have to wear a gunny sack to my Prom night, Miss Cajun Home Coming Queen! Hopefully it was after you shed the full metal teeth jacket you had to wear during high school to tame your sprawling hillbilly teeth!” said Sara now chuckling loudly, with Mary and Marsha giggling after her. Patti, drew her holstered hand weapon and pointed the loaded gun at Sara’s head. “Say another word! Give me an excuse!” said Patti now furiously enraged. Mark quickly pulled over the MDV. “Stand down now Patti! Now!” commanded Mark. Patti reluctantly holstered her weapon. “Now, all of you please be silent until we reach the holding facility! Please!” said Mark starting to drive again, signaling the entourage to continue. Patti just sat there and remained silent looking ahead. “Ok  handsome!” said Sara tauntingly. “Sara! Please keep quiet” whispered Mary loudly. “What is with you two anyway? They haven’t even read our  Miranda Rights. If she can read!” said Sara getting further under Patti’s skin. Patti about to draw her gun again was stopped by Mark firmly grabbing her arm. “Save it for the interrogation! We are almost at the facility.” commanded Mark trying to keep the peace.

To be continued in a torcher-terrorist behavioral manner…

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

Who Amongst is The Bettor Plunger? Cardsharp Profligate?

Is that your Brain? Or are you hiding a Pea?

Seeping down from our social media and mediums, like slimy, spewing, refuse regurgitating into our brains, honing us at will to believe we may just win that pay dirt! Who amongst us believes gambling is the deterioration of our morals and faiths is a better question? In the end, however, when you have been repined for all that you are worth, you will know the true meaning of gambling. When someone houses a casino, or games of speculation for people to play with their hard earned cash, they are playing to win. End of story. So you may think you have a flawless, honest system to win, but in the end, you will lose. End of story. Anyone that denies this probably owns there own casino or houses games, legally or illegally. They know what side of the enterprise makes the money. It is the house, not the gamblers. If it were the gamblers, then there would be no house, book maker, stakes holders, etc.. It is like the old grift game of shells. Guess what shell houses the pea? In most cases, none, because the pea is only placed to appear to be under another shell when revealed. Honestly, it is never under any shell when you make your selection. You never seem to choose the correct one unless the grifters allows this to happen, to give the appearance someone can actually win, or to encourage the bettor to up his stakes. The pea, in actuality, is hidden in the grifter’s palm, thus he can make you appear to win at will and lose at will.

Sentinels of Misappropriation

Some will argue and defend gambling to the death. Suggest it is honest and legal (where it is legalized) and they would never intentionally cause someone to lose all their money, possessions and property. In other words, they say, when controlled by the state, province, and/or municipalities, it honest and upstanding. But they are only defending this unscrupulous enterprise because they are making money or benefiting from the gambling one way or the other(Gatekeeper). But, others also say gambling is a disease? Addiction? It must be kept under check. You must gamble moderately. If the government, federal, provincial, state, or municipality, controls the gambling, it is somehow cleansed and sacred? Somehow the government supersedes established morals and philosophies? Gambling is so old and common, that societies, though the ages, are well aware of the ills of gambling. It has been written and re-written and made illegal for, in my opinion, good reasons. Because it is immoral, dishonest, and ruthless. Just ask anyone that has lost everything to these casinos. These casinos never say: “You gambled away your life savings? Well in that case, we will give it right back to you.” or “You just lost your house? I am sorry sir/madam, we will give your money right back!”  If you think casinos have these types of morals and remorse, then you must of just bought your first house in Wheaton New Jersey and are waiting for directions to move there!

Finis of the Habituated

I know people that gamble and think they know the system. It is pathetic to listen to these people talk and attempt to convince you that gambling is a friendly, harmless activity. Common sayings would be: “I never bring more then $50.00. Once that is gone I stop! I swear!” or “You just have to know which machine is paying out, hot. Once you master that, you will always win your money back, or break even!” or “I am just going to make one more bet. Just one and that is it!” or “I have studied the methods of blackjack and other card games. I have the perfect system. I cannot lose!”. These sayings are clear indications of gambling addiction. So if you care about that person, encourage them to seek help immediately. Before they lose everything and are asking you to bail them out. Worse, this could be your spouse gambling away your money and property. Why has the government adopted gambling as a vocation and an acceptable enterprise in commercial corporate North America? Because they can control it and tax the royal dung out of each and every casino, not to mention getting bribes and other incentives to legalize and normalise the corrupt activity. They can also tax the winnings, so they have both hands in both pockets, one in yours and one in the house. (Canada has tax free winnings, but not for long.) When I see a billboard or some other form of advertising for gambling and casinos, it makes me very saturnine and fearful of where society is heading. But clearly I see it is greed and opulence that creates this rapacious and unscrupulous behavior. We are defeated by opulence. That is why gambling is prolific throughout commercial corporate North America and the world. But who is it serving? The 1 percent of society. Make no mistake.

Advocates of the Injudicious

I am standing in line to pay for fuel that I just filled into my vehicle’s gas tank. The line is going painfully slow. Unusually slow. Or should I say, usually slow, or bad timing. Who is ahead of me in this line? People that also purchased fuel? Some. But it is not the purchases of fuel that are causing the delay. It is gambling. Mostly older, semi- retired or retired individuals with their scratch tickets, lottery tickets, raffle tickets, faithfully checking each winning ticket and purchasing more tickets in hopes to win the big stakes, or at least another ticket so they can keep playing. If they lose, does this stop them? Never. They just keep buying more and more tickets, slowly exhausting their pension checks, savings and legacies that will most likely be depleted sooner or later if they live long enough because you can bet you last money store interest payment that they are in the local casino 2 to 3 times a week. Yes, they have successfully conned our elders that gambling is the way to financial freedom, something that they are suppose to already be enjoying, but because of our weak banking systems and morals, their pensions turned out to be a fraction of what was promised or cut down. In any event, “freedom 55” turned into “serfdom ’till you die, fool!” Yes they may even of got the level of pension they were told, but inflation and recessions caused the difference, mainly the value of a dollar, that always mysteriously cannot buy as much as it did in the past. Like the grift game of shells. Always mysteriously ending up somewhere else, most likely in the 1 percenters pocket who is the ultimate grifter of them all. But, words of avaricious wisdom told to me by a local business vendor, who by the way, never even sold any gambling tickets in his establishment, said quote: “You can never win if you never play! That is what I tell anyone that criticises gambling.” end quote. Are the 1 percenters fooling us? You can bet you last marriage’s hocked wedding band they are.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017