I was writing a longer piece, but I woke up this morning wanting to get this out of the way first. It is, after all, the reason I’m writing.  I’ll write the other stuff as I have time.

I’m writing because we’re on the eve of destruction, probably, of everything you and I have held dear since we were children.  Oh, doom has been prophesied almost constantly since Man has been able to articulate it and write it down.  And I’ve felt for at least the last five years, and probably more like the last fifteen, that the dark forces were marshaling their efforts for the “final” battle.  And now that we’ve seen the first battles, now that the war is indeed upon us, it’s really too late to address what we could have done.

I knew when I saw those planes hit the Twin Towers in 2001 and heard the story that the media and government was telling us, that someone was lying to us, and something was going on that was far more insidious that what we were told.  I already knew that the Bush government was run by evil, because who could not have seen that, who had eyes to see? But I was naive as to who the good guys were, and it took me another eight or nine years of self-delusion before I could see.

What did it take to wake me up? I think I was on a calendar that was set before I came to this world in this life, probably; or maybe it really was what we call external events.  Probably the most ignorantly evil thing I’ve ever done was to vote for Barack Obama for President in 2008, naively buying the swill that was given to us; that a shift of parties within the given structure would solve our problems.  Not that what I did turned out to matter, of course, except to me.  But seeing how that monster grinned, swallowed the prize that we’d given him and immediately turned on us with a cynical maliciousness unparalleled in modern history, I think may have been the final straw.

So now, the people who Dylan consciously or unconsciously (and ironically) called the Masters of War are laying all their cards out on the table. Most near to hand, they have put on us on the edge of internal race war.  They needed the shill of an actor who is Obama to do this; other than this, he runs nothing.  Race relations in the US had normalized, to the extent they ever could when such disparate groups are forced to live together in what passes for a culture; it took a Black President to stir them up, this badly.  So that we now have ignorant and uncultured armies within our midst, ready to arise and seize advantage when they can.   Meanwhile, our borders have been opened, like Europe’s, like Constantinople’s gates were centuries ago, to allow invasion from without.  Here in America, the invasion we have come to almost tolerate comes from the South, from Mexico and Latin America; but we are also now open to the hordes of Muslims who are invading Europe in the biggest population changes since the Age of Migration in the fifth and sixth centuries.  And they have only begun to bring to us what they have brought to France and will be bringing to Germany; their religious holy war, that has been revived while they have been revived – while they have become lean, hungry, fit and primed for war, while we have become fat, complacent, victims.

Who are we? We are European man.  We are the founders of this civilization.  Our ancestors founded it, and we came along to let it rot.  We are quite possibly at the end of our time, though some part of me thinks that we will survive in some way.  If I didn’t think that, I’m not sure that I would be writing this.  Because I don’t think it likely that I will survive this coming Apocalypse, not in this human form.  And I don’t know that I would want to; at 58 I don’t feel like hiding in the woods with the last illegal weapon, waiting for the Storm Troopers, or running from cannibal hordes, or whatever it takes to survive the End Times.

We are immortal beings, you and I.  I and the one reading this.  I’m not sure about all the others.  But I have come to remember, these last few years, that I was sent to here on some mission, be it to observe, or merely to awake; or maybe there is something I am supposed to do.  Having been blessed with remembering the basis of my identity, which I know is so rare, I feel like one of those Russian sleeper spies who had been so long in the US that they couldn’t remember their missions.   But I know that I was, long before I was in this place, and that some of us came here together, and when my time is done here, I will move on, not end.  And I know that someone sent us here, and my loyalty must be to him.  I await his orders.

But meanwhile, what do we do?  I’m afraid the time is gone to stop the imminent.  If I were younger, and had been aware sooner, maybe I would have been one of those who went out on the land, to try to establish the basics of survival; and I can tell you that in the coming hard times, what will matter most will not be who has the best source of water or the most farmable land, or the most weapons or stored food, although all of those things will matter.  It will be the ones who have built the strongest community who will have the best chance of survival. And I have not done that.  Indeed, it’s silly for me to even speculate what I should or might have done had I been younger or more inspired.  Because I was never a farmer or a mechanic, or much of a member of any community.  I am the wanderer, the observer, and at some times the warrior.    I have no children nor even an extended nor adopted family whom I would or could preserve.  I have this little cat who’s climbed up in my lap to purr as I write this; indeed I would kill or die for him, but that won’t change anything.  He and I are companions beyond this life.   I have friends I care about, but they don’t share my vision of the world, and I don’t know what they will do when the time comes.

So the time may come soon, if you are one of the conscious ones, one of the eternal, when your only recourse is to make your peace with your god or gods.  Maybe I’m telling you that this is the time to find him, her or them.  I know from experience that he, she or they is or are, right in your face and waiting to be acknowledged.  Then maybe you can have your own memory of why you are here, and whence you came, and maybe this can all make sense to you, and have some meaning.

Who did this to us? It doesn’t matter now, does it? Because if you were to survive, perhaps one day you could take the battle to them, but this is not that time.  And I don’t tell you not because I fear them (although they could crush me like a bug at any time), but because you have been conditioned not to listen, and if I told you, the odds are about 99% that you would stop hearing my message.  Given time, maybe that too will out. But not right now.

What is your time frame? I don’ t know, of course, except it feels more imminent every day.  Maybe that will change and a time of relaxation will come again.  But it appears to me that they are ramping up for a time of conflagration followed by a clampdown, and I’m not at all sure that the US Presidential election of 2016 will take places as “normal”.

Personally, I hope to get through this Yule season in some peace.  For myself, I need a period of cleansing and clarification; may even get it, I don’t know.  Because I don’t think 2016 will be a year of peace, for any of us.  Just hope I’m wrong; and pray for your own purposes.

Now in the time I’ve given, I’ll write about some more things.


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