The Blue Mask

There were small hopeful signs during a visit to the supermarket this week (I refer to 'the supermarket' since the local Tesco has become pretty much the one-and-only over recent months. It is fairly quiet, not very big, and you don't get hassled for not wearing a you-know-what).

First up, more of the staff are clearly getting pissed off with wearing masks. An increasing number can be seen with them worn well down below the nose, or pulled down for a breather before going back into full numbskull mode; or just left dangling while they get on with their job. One, who I'd seen struggling and working in dangling mode a couple of weeks ago, now sports an 'exemption' thing, as do a couple of other workers.

I am pleased, not for ideological reasons, but for their sakes: long-term wearing of a suffocation cloth will be bad for health - there is far more literature around to back this up than evidence that it does any good in scaring away viruses.

Outside the supermarket, a lively-looking guy - I think he was a Jesus dude - was having an animated discussion with one of the supermarket workers, an older guy, one who goes around collecting the trolleys around the car park. "They are herding us into a new way of life" he was explaining to the trolley man, who looked interested but bemused.

Back inside, I had spied a masker paying at the checkout wearing a Lou Reed t-shirt. "Lou Reed wouldn't wear a mask" I thought to myself, before letting it go: there's no way of knowing, really.
But Lou Reed and masks go back a long way.

In some respects, Lou was a master of the mask. Not for keeping at bay a phantom virus, but for putting on and taking off persona. Unlike most of our modern occult mask-wearers, his was a conscious act, so he was able to control the magick; well, most of the time. But it was that: one mask for an audience, another mask for tomorrow night's audience, a particularly odious mask for the music journalists he so despised. And there was the Blue Mask.....

The album entitled 'The Blue Mask' was released in early 1982. It was in the middle of a period during which only true Lou aficionados will be familiar with any of the songs. The fashion among rock 'critics' at the time was to ignore, dismiss, or run down.

'The Blue Mask' came to bathe Reed's gathering ignominy in a little light relief. The working title of the album was apparently 'Heaven and Hell', and it fits the bill. After years of living and making music that was on the edge of destruction, despair, premature complete annihilation, Lou Reed takes a big step towards personal redemption (if we remove any theological connotations to the word) with some of the songs on 'The Blue Mask'.

'Heavenly Arms' is one such. And there is 'Our House', evoking scenes of rural idyll. 'The image of the poet's in the breeze/ Canadian geese are flying above the trees/ A mist is hanging gently on the lake/ Our house is very beautiful at night.'

But then there is the song itself, the one which gives its name to the album. The Blue Mask. I provide a link to the song, though I am unable to really listen to it myself. The distorted guitar feedback, the pounding beat and rhythm, the vicious military snarl of Lou's voice, the words, the words, the words. It is not a 'high vibrational' song; but then it is not intended to be.

Suffering and torture are the name of the game on 'The Blue Mask'. 'They tied his arms behind his back/ To teach him how to swim/ They put blood in his coffee/ And milk in his gin.'

The catalogue of sadism continues, until...... , ambiguously(much art worth the title is ambiguous) it begins to dawn. This is not a one-way street of abuse. The abused is a willing participant in the entire horror movie.

'Take the blue mask down from my face/ And look me in the eye/ I get a thrill from punishment/ I've always been that way'. And again, near the song's pained finale: 'Make the sacrifice/ Mutilate my face/ If you need someone to kill/ I'm a man without a will'.

Doesn't it sound all-too familiar? Isn't this the ritual which is being enacted across the globe right now, by literally billions of people on a daily basis? Is it not that the human species is being invited to engage in sado-masochistic ritual on an unimaginable scale? Just watch some people when they don the mask. Their heads are literally bowed. They walk around looking cowed, downtrodden, thoroughly beaten. Not so much teenagers: it needs more than a blue mask to knock the stuffing out of most of them. But older folk, from age twenty on, I'd submit. Happy masochists. Punish me, punish me, punish me some more. I am a danger to the world; I am crap.

Bowed and cowed. The ritual of submission. Willing submission, mind you, for the most part. This is the important bit. If I can walk around the supermarket mask-free, so can anyone else. It's a choice. And, just as in the 'Blue Mask' song, there is a conspiracy between abuser and abused: both get their kicks from the twisted, perverse ritual. 'Make the sacrifice/ Mutilate my face/ If you need someone to kill/ I'm a man without a will'.

What a perfect expression of the goal of the blue mask ritual enacted worldwide today: to render the human being no longer human; no longer an independent entity, with any vestige of personal choice, of free will. To become passive, mute, faceless. And, in an expression of the unspoken covenant between abuser and abused, the mutilated will speak up for, defend with aggression if need be, the right of the abuser to continue the abuse. Speak out against the mask and you will likely be accused of recklessness, irresponsibility, and of wanting to kill other people.

They are after the children now. Enforcing a mask on a child is child abuse, plain and simple, literally. There is no limit to the depths that 'they' will plumb in their sickness. 'Children need to wear a mask to protect the old people.' What manipulative diabolical bullshit. And they know that.

'The adult is now debased. Let's see if we can take it further. Will they allow us to debase their children? Will they allow us to do that?'

'I'm a man without a will'.

Here's the song, if you dare:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCXA7RRoD0M

I am reminded of animal documentaries that I saw when I used to watch television. I can't remember what it was: sharks or dolphins I think. Anyhow, they would come upon a great shoal of little fish, millions of them, darting around. The sharks/dolphins would go crazy, uncontrollable, get carried away in a total frenzy as they decimated their prey. This is what I see today. The architects of control can't believe their luck, and they've gone ape-shit crazy. Completely out of control as they plough through the shoals of consent-to-debasement humans. It's a frenzy, it doesn't look good, but it's only possible because the prey are willing prey. There is no limit to where they can go, should they be allowed. Psychopathy is by its nature insatiable in its evil.

Take the blue mask down, look me in the eye.....

We have a problem. The majority of people are not psychopathic. The problem is that they do not recognise that there is a psychopathic mentality at work in the world; and that, while unrecognised, can rain down as much havoc as it wishes on the rest of human life.

Studies vary, but the suggestion is that between 1% and 5% of the human population is of psychopathic disposition. This is characterised above all by absence of empathy, of feelings of remorse and of the recognition that actions have consequences. In sum, there is no fellow-feeling; no feeling for any living thing aside from oneself.

It is lack of honesty and courage which lead so many people to dismiss, or refuse to acknowledge, the psychopathic element at work in human affairs, I suggest. For many non-psychopaths it is uncomfortable to consider this possibility. My humble suggestion is that it's time to get over it, and ..... take off the blue mask and look it all firmly in the eye. Otherwise, future prospects may not be worth thinking about.....               


 

Mind Control

Part One

At the end of the day (as the saying goes) my approach is psychological. 'Psychological' in the broadest sense of the word, that is. Mind, consciousness: these are primary, these are the creators of reality. 'Mind' includes feelings and emotions, instinct and intuition, sensations, just as much as it includes thoughts and ideas. 'Mind' is not a matter of the head; it is a matter of all experience.

There was a number of occasions during the 1970s when, with the aid of various psychedelic, or entheogenic, helpers, I was able to witness the world coming into being. It was as if time slowed down to such an extent that the entire process of manifestation, of creation, could be experienced as it occurred. The world of many things, the world as we normally know it, would unfold from 'somewhere' else: from the non-create, the un-create.

This is how the entire thing comes to be. On a moment-to-moment basis, the 'world' is created anew. It  is in a constant state of coming-to-be; sensations and the rest are instantaneously interpreted by our perceptual mechanisms into what we then, comfortably in the realm of the known, translate as 'the world'.

It's presented in many different places under various guises. In Mahayana Buddhism, it is the Void which gives birth to the world as we know it. It is emanation theory, in which the (dualistic) world is an emanation from the non-dual, what is sometimes  termed 'Source'. It is there in Kabbala, on the Tree of Life, where Ain Soph then Kether, the One, splits into ever-increasing differentiation, until we finally arrive at the bottom of the tree, Malkuth, the material world.

Mind Only. Consciousness is primary, the source of all that is. We forget this at our peril.

Part Two

During these described moments many years ago, and at various times more recently, it occurred to me that realising this process was the root of magic, or at least one root. For if one was able to watch the world come into being, then equally one could learn how to squeeze into that gap between the unmanifest and the manifest, and so twist, alter, distort, what was to come into being. Magic, the occult, are in themselves neutral; they can be the source of either good or evil, depending upon the intentions of the worker of the magic.

According to some, this is the origin of much of the conflict on planet Earth today. The great sages and knowledge-holders of thousands of years back, centred in what is nowadays northern Iran, spilt into two opposing groups. There were the carriers of true spiritual wisdom, who became the Gnostics among others. And there were the carriers of darkness - of power rather than benevolent wisdom - who morphed into secret societies, the Illuminati. And we could say, the embodiments of the mentality of the Archons.

Part Three

Mind is everything. This refers to everything 'now' as much as at any other time.

Face masks, face coverings: for the vast majority of folk they have nothing to do with physical health. Nothing at all. But they have everything to do with mind. Psychology. Everything. They are one of modern history's greatest mind-fucks.

In order to unpack one angle on the mind-mask-fuck, I shall take a stroll down a particularly dark psychological alleyway.

Before the Covid situation arose, there were two topics which occasionally pop up in the 'alternative world' that I studiously avoided. They were too repugnant, too dark, too psychopathic, for me. These topics were a) the A1 (artificial intelligence) archontic end-game, of a brain/computer interface, essentially transforming human beings into computer terminals, remotely-manipulated automatons of the (sub)human hive mind. And the second topic was that of satanic ritual abuse, especially of children, primarily as a means to feed off their energy.

With the playing of the Covid card, however, nothing is off limits any longer. All needs consideration, nothing is impossible. And it doesn't take a genius to see the connections between the artificial intelligence programme, ritual abuse, and the coronavirus plandemic.

The stuff of fantasy nightmares it may seem, but satanic ritual abuse is well-documented, including accounts by survivors which bear close resemblance to one another, thus lending credibility to their stories.

Trauma-based mind control is a vital element in such ritual abuse. Put simply, abuse generates intense fear, trauma; it is intended to so, for energetic reasons. And a major factor in how the process works involves compartmentalisation of the victim's psyche; in my own words, the exploitation of sub-personalities of the target victim, which operate more-or-less autonomously one from the other.

It is possible to turn on and off the sub-personalities of an individual. Thus, a victim may appear relatively normal under most circumstances, when their main persona is operating. However, it is possible to 'trigger' (the word used) another (sub)personality through the use of particular trigger words, sounds, or other means. Once triggered, this sub-personality can be subjected to extreme pain, fear, whatever, and then turned off again at will.

The person is then returned to their main persona, and such is the trauma that they consciously recall nothing at all - it is completely identified with that other (now unconscious) sub-persona. It's as if nothing every happened, and it's only through intensive psychotherapeutic work that the horrors may eventually be recovered.

Such are the psychopathic depths that a small proportion of (non)humanity will plumb. But the principle of the mask is not so very far from that employed in satanic ritual abuse, I suggest. Not so very far at all....

It is simple and straightforward to observe. Put on the mask and you become a different person; a different sub-personality takes charge. And this is all intended, by the way.

Part Four

Put straightforwardly: the mask is a trigger. It is a trigger for demeaning, humiliating ritualised abuse on a global scale. You can see it happening all the time, if only you look: see what is there, not what you have been told is there.

You see people behaving in human fashion, in the street, in the park, in the car park: laughing, joking, playing around; complaining, communicating about something or another. Then they approach the shop, and put on the mask. Immediately it is triggered: the Covid horror-anxiety-fear-and-danger-submission sub-personality. You see it in the supermarkets, on the buses, wherever people wear the mask. The Covid persona has been turned on.

And the thing about the Covid sub-personality is that it is not a personality at all. The personality has been erased, removed. Which is the whole point of the exercise, and why it is satanic. Our individuality is gone, and we are all the same, all subservient to the same common horror, the one great unifying Covid. We bow our heads in unison.

I believe that last week Con-mander-in-Chief Johnson issued yet another edict enumerating further places where the mask had to be worn. Hotel lobbies, for example. There is no coincidence here. Introduce still more petty details about where faces must be covered in order to keep the loyal subjects in constant remembrance of the mask, of their subservience to the mask, of the omnipresent horror of the Covid.

Do not allow them to forget for one second their inferiority to the god of the mask, the personality eraser. Over time, roles will reverse: the current personality will become the sub-personality, and vice-versa. The mask will become our prime face, our default way of being. Loyal, cowed, fearful, obedient: this will become the norm. Our face of individuality gone. We will be wearing the mask even when the face is uncovered.

No way......

Part Five

I have yet to wear a coronavirus suffocation cloth, and I intend that things will remain that way. There are, however, a number of occasions when I would consider it, to be effected in full consciousness of non-consent to the satanic rite.

One such occasion was last Sunday, when my wife (who hasn't covered her face yet, either) had an appointment at the local hospital for a check-up on a previously serious condition, postponed from March. If it was a case of 'no mask=no check-up' I would have donned the infernal object.

We arrived at reception; hospital almost deserted. "Use the handgel" the young lady at reception told us. I backtracked a couple of steps, and squeezed a tiny drop of this unpleasant stuff over my fingers. "You need to wear your mask" she continued. "We are exempt" I declared, pointing to the badges dangling prominently from our necks. The receptionist got a bit flustered; this was a bit much for her. Such complications were clearly not part of the script she had been given. "Oh, well" she mumbled. "Take these with you, in case you need them" handing me a couple of those surgical mask things.

We saw the consultant, who appeared remarkably unworried about contracting a fatal virus from either of us. He has always been courteous and helpful, and was happy to give my wife the all-clear, and hoped he never saw us again.

Once home, I opened my bag and took out my trophy from the hospital. I'd seen thousands of people wearing these things, and plenty of them, used or unused, thrown away and strewn across the pavements and forest walks nearby. But I'd never looked at one closely. Not really. And never touched one. 

I inspected it, rubbed my finger across its centre, held it up to the light. The magic mask, the transformer of society.

What an awful thing! It is worse than I had imagined. Crude, cheap, synthetic, slimy. A mass-produced piece of demonstrable shit. The very depths of what modern industrial society can come up with. Is supposed to protect against the most deadly Covid virus? Really? And people wear this on their face every day??? Voluntarily???

The medium is the message, I guess. Demeaning, humiliating, you got it. How low can you sink? 

davidicke.com/2020/08/14/covid-19-is-a-virus-of-the-human-mind-david-icke-dot-connector-videocast-please-share-to-counter-censorship/

Above is a link to David Icke's weekly dot connector videocast. It's on the same subject, approached from a slightly different angle, but one of his best. Highly recommended.   

Images: coercioncode
             well-known celebrity       
 

Maskless and Majestic

Part One: Toxic Wine 

Majestic. Wines, that is. I'd never visited our local store before. It's on the other side of town, and probably the northernmost in Britain. It's also on the industrial estate, probably the noisiest, most traffic-ridden place in this little part of the universe. I have little reason to visit such an establishment these days, anyhow: sinuses and kundalini have rendered me pretty much an alcohol-free zone. 'Grade A poison' is what the body seems to say to alcohol. I am on my way back, however, having guzzled almost an entire bottle of Martini over the past couple of months.

It was my wife, for reasons varied, who wished to go to Majestic Inverness. We took the riverside walk, keeping by the waters as far as possible, before cutting inland briefly, dodging the traffic heading north, and standing outside the drug store. Ah, alcohol - give me a blast.

The door was open; on closer inspection there was some kind of tape running across the entrance. To begin with, I thought we might have struck lucky, and there be some special opening today, maybe a famous celebrity cutting the tape and cracking a bottle of champagne as a new section of the shop is opened. However, it turned out to be a barrier to prevent 'customers' entering without permission.

We were allowed in by a masked female, and had a look around. Majestic shops are typically spacious affairs, often former warehouses decked out with lots of bottles of wine. My wife gave it all a quick inspection, before picking up a bottle to read about it on the label. Cue a panicked masker running in her direction. "You can't touch the bottles. We can tell you about alcohol content." Then she mumbled something about 'health'.

Rather taken aback, my wife returned the bottle to its position, and was taken aback a second time as the masked buffoon furiously sprayed the entire bottle with sanitiser. That's 'health' for you. No wonder we weren't allowed to read the label; "This wine comes with hints of cherry, and a strong aftertaste of chemical shite." Exactly what people come to Majestic for.

Resisting the temptation to walk out, knocking a few bottles onto the ground as we went, we wandered around. I examined the bottles closely. These are, after all, special bottles, different bottles. Go to Tesco, and the bottles of wine are virus-free: you can pick them up and put them down as much as you want. But Majestic wine bottles are a dodgy affair. The bloody virus is stuck fast onto each and every one of them.

As we meandered, two pairs of beady eyes followed us as we went. How the 'humans' accompanying the eyes felt about our procession was unknown to me. Were they angry? Suspicious? Did they think we might need help? No idea. They were masked, expressionless; all I could see were the eyes. I remembered the good old days, when Boris Johnson had pretences to being a proper human being himself, rather than the fully-paid-up covid clone of today. He was chastised by the righteous ones about comments he made referring to the chosen attire of certain Muslim females as similar to a letterbox, with the sinister implications of such a cover-up. Well done, Boris. Everyone's a bloody letterbox now.....

The thing is this, and the reason for our tracking: we were without masks. Our faces were free, moving, apparent. Nowadays it's not those who cover their face who are viewed with suspicion, but those who dare to show who they are.

And here is another thing: notice how 'the virus' has developed new abilities over the past few months. It is only recently that it was a two-metre weakling. Now it has morphed impressively into a long-distance olympic champion. Here in not-so-Majestic, as I was beginning to shape it, there is space. Loads and loads of space. But the number of customers allowed in was severely rationed. I think I caught sight of a viral particle leaping from the French Merlots onto the chiantis from Tuscany, and thence onward to the big fruity Californian reds. Scary.

Time to pay. My wife emphatically plonked down three bottles on the counter. "I'll have those two - not that one." The unlucky one was hastened out of sight, inevitably due a soaking from toxic handwash.

And there it was: by now hardly a surprise. The sign. 'No cash.' I put my virus-ridden notes away. They were fresh and crispy, taken from a machine a few weeks back, and touched solely by healthy-ol' me.           

We left with spirits a little low. I clambered over the dead bodies of a number of unfortunates on the way back into town, some still clutching their deadly notes and coins in pale, cold, lifeless hands. Nasty stuff, that cash. I'll look out for 'cash' as cause of death in the 'obituary' section of the local paper next week.

I am making note of who is more reasonable, and who is overstepping the already-overstepping mark made by the 'authorities'. The latter won't be getting my dosh anymore. Which is cash as much as is possible nowadays. I hope plenty more folk will do the same. Majestic, bye bye....

Part Two: Oasis

It was a meet, a gathering, more than a demo. In the park, Saturday lunchtime. 'Peaceful protest' the headline on 'Keep Britain Free' said. Relief indeed.

About fifty people, I guess, with a few dogs. That rare but valuable breed nowadays, it seems. People who see through the lies, the authoritarian horror, the incessant cruel bullying bullshit. No masks, no lockdowns, let's be human beings again. As important as anything: fifty luminous balls of openness, friendliness. The virus of fear replaced as if through a miracle by warmth, human relations, human relatedness. Thanks to everyone who was there for raising the spirits far more than a bloody wine retailer could ever hope to dampen them.

It's time do do something. Anything. It's getting now or never; I mean literally. Look out for local people, local groups. Go along, do it. Disparate folk, different backgrounds, but all knowing that what is going on is bad, very bad, not what the myopic majority believe. Not at all.

And you can do stuff by yourself.....

I spend as little time as possible in retail establishments. Nevertheless, just four days after the majestic experience, it was off to the supermarket. Normally, there are one or two other recognisable faces among the aisles. On this occasion, however, the store was pretty full of folk, but we seemed to be the only maskless customers around.

My wife and I qualify as 'exempt from face coverings' in the official version of reality. Nevertheless, walking around in a sea of masked anonymity can be a challenging experience.

To begin with, I felt a little uncomfortable. Now, however, that's all gone. It's the opposite. I walk with pride in my heart. Whether or not officially exempt is not the point, it makes little difference. It gives a message to everyone else who happens to cast a beady eye on your existence. 'It is not inevitable; it is not without choice. There is an alternative. You don't have to do it.' Just sticking yourself behind a shopping trolley and gathering potatoes and green peppers is a potent statement to the world. Conformism is an option, not a given.

What's the worst that can happen to a maskless supermarket dude? Some uninformed idiot shouts at you about how you are a danger to society, killing people. Big deal. It reminds me of the Buddha, when somebody came up to him and shouted criticism and nonsense at him from close range. "What do you do with a gift given to you that you don't want?" enquired Buddha. "You give it back." "Yep. And here's your bullshit right back in your grubby palms."

The other worst thing? You are told to wear a mask and you refuse. Supermarket workers are not authorised to insist on customers being muzzled, it's not their job, it's the police. Anyhow, you can just leave, taking your crisp banknotes elsewhere, and leaving them a basket full of consumables to put back on the shelves.

Big deal again. Once you get over the authority complex, which is at the root of all the bullshit and cruelty, everything becomes easy. Go for it...... 

     
Images: Computer modelling: shit in, shit out. David Icke.com
              Look out! - someone's touching that bottle
              David icke.com again. Thanks, guys
              Worldometer Peru - proof of how much we need masks and lockdowns