Spying on the Spies Spying on Us

Spies spy, this is their official overt mandate although their actions are suppose to be covert. NSA spying on allies is not shocking to me (see Guardian article below). When you operate from a paranoid world-view that everyone is out to get you (read US of Constant Wars) what can one expect? This is why France’s political power base is going to vote for new powers to spy on its own citizenry. Everyone spying on everyone else is a surveillance political circle jerk (sorry for the graphic). What is scary is how easily it is to procure sensitive info and sell it to the highest bidder. As such, even Ben Franklin’s son William, a loyalist, sold information about his father to the Crown.

Snowden, Manning, Hammond, and other whistleblowers of our war economy horrific times are not offering revelations for money nor do i believe they acted from a childish need for attention. They came forward to warn and inform the world and consequently are suffering the wrath of the empire. Hypocrisy exhibited is pro forma for the empire’s hollow leadership where values and ethics are neither affirmed nor sought. For the security apparatus to perceive Julian Assange equal to a full blown terrorist ramped up to kill kids in a Pakistan school is insane. It is beyond disturbing the empire sees journalists and journalism in the same waterboarding shadows as the madmen who send kids wired with chest bombs into places of worship.

‪#‎WikiLeaks‬ publishes and also archives massive amounts of communications between nefarious govt. actors and corrupted entities along with other pertinent documents in what can only be termed – perennial intrigues. Without astute technical nerd skills to house and safeguard these cables, and various other significant data materials, you and I would be further stuck behind higher and thicker opaque walls unable to see let alone hear the truth.

For many years I rummaged around inside the dumps of political madness and historical outlines attempting to personally comprehend America’s innards and decode interlinking webs to explain same to myself, and to you. Unfortunately, in Murica big news qualifies as the opening of the newest micro-brewery or an orchestrated derailment from truth by the latest piddle stream media spin.

H/w example of a derailment = The funeral tomorrow in Charleston, South Carolina and the harangue over the Confederate colors – the battle flag of Gen. Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. i guarantee the media will rage on for months as THE debate of heritage. South Carolina was the first state to secede, two months after the election of Abraham Lincoln. It was in South Carolina the Civil War began, when the Confederacy fired on Fort Sumter. Taking down flags that supported black slavery as the basis of white equality is reverse bigotry? It has been 150+ years the Confederate flag has flown over public buildings.

Side bar:
Souls who died or were wounded in the American Civil War (April 12, 1861 to April 9, 1865).
Union =
140,414 killed in action
~ 365,000 total dead
275,200 wounded
Confederates =
72,524 killed in action
~ 260,000 total dead
137,000+ wounded
Civilian =
number of wounded unknown

700,000+ dead
412,200+ wounded

These numbers may sound like the south won but the north had 2 million soldiers and the south only had 1 million. Disease is what also killed, not just stupid macho bull corn called collateral murdering (war) for one’s beliefs.

Core-bemoaning – what i label the wholistic smews I write – is not popular as it requires an attention span and curious intelligence to stay the course during unfolding events without forgetting critical thinking.

I wear no mask. I am an open book with thick covers. No one is around to put a paper bag over my head. My agenda is information as a format of communication art.

The incredible dramatic need for the healing of human systemic rot is a world-wide emergency. Some of you nice folks are growing strawberries and backyard chickens as your preference to fighting the flailing system. Others of you, in desperate and far deeper piles of shit, work like crazed camels to educate the next generation (your kids) in hopes they can assume the throne of power and shift the paradigm.

My life is simple and free. Because of decades of working on a treadmill I now have the time and a devoted inclination to over come disinformation machinations by offering commentary based in factual reality. No one is my boss. No one tells me what to quote, state, or bemoan. The Net places our communications equal to any news service. Transparency, ethics, and SEO expertise can foist anyone above the din and matrix noise. Yet, be assured I am not operating as a lone wolf.

The Highlander drum I beat is repetitive and at times this grates on my snotty creative persona. I prefer jazz bent originality or at least a fresh scene to write a finer script. Yet, to help others discover the facts to break denial demands consistency be one more sharp tool to dismantle the clown car while building a bridge across the abyss of apathy.

Writing in cliche is on purpose. Making up words is part of my recovering stony writer’s prerogative. Re-using hot shot buzz words is strategic intent. Yet, facts are researched and confirmed. If i am duped into posting something faux hopefully i am the first to admit it.

What is unacceptable is the intrusion of our privacy and the alteration of justice by greed, or any other negative. What is wasteful and stupid is sexual harassment by trolls and other nut jobs.

‪#‎Freedom‬ and prosperity are not mutually exclusive. As those with conscience awake and become enraged I am not seeking a resolution by igniting anarchy. I am a Ben Franklin styled pacifist (see pbs link below). My personal goal is not to violently overthrow corporate govts., religiosity, and/or civil society. But, while i might parse out slices of mountain berry and apple pie doused in lemon curd the iced chai tea I serve is not brewed by the ‪#‎NSA‬ or, any of its subcontractors. I remain a peace and freedom revolutionary.





Never Ending Suffering


Dedicated to: #Julian Assange; #Barry Grossman, Esq., and Chris, Esq.; Capt. William F. Macomber; Hesham Yehya; Daniel C. Davis; Capt. Arthur E. DiPietro, Esq.; #Richie Stallcup; #Dr. David DeSante; #Ed Snowden; Dr. Mahmoud; Professor Richard Alford; #Tom Hayden; #Congressman Michael P. Forbes; #President Jimmy Carter; Peter Knoll; #Poet Sherif el-Hakim; Thomas D. Field; John G. Clancy; Esq., Private First Class #Manning; #Leonard Peltier; Trustee Billy Pell; #Russell Means; Kirk MacDonald Park & Lisa; Jato; Nizar; Benjamin Runkle; Joel H.; Audrey Davis Stephenson; Patty Brown Carrillo; Frances W. Macomber; Rodeina Sheety Davis; Randa & Natalie; John Wesly Stephenson; Aida Kosseim; Barbara Latimer; Valerie Henshaw Gilbert; and, the crew-who-knew and knows, and still do what I ask.


You are each, in your revered vision and sacred deeds, or not, my preferred cloistered heroes – sequestered in my far-out heart.



Dateline: Today, June 14, 2014, Finca Vigia, Alfombra, Costa Rica


It is the murky edgy ages of the digital techno post millennium. Here we wobble with flickering LED light nearly beaten into what might have been glory yet turns out to be a non-civilization of gratuitous greed and instanced insecurity. Over the eons, whatever humanity learned as regards survival is neither positive nor negative. It is a push – no gain yet riddled with pain. Strapped to whirling fake golden rings treated as violated baboons we roll through a shadowy gloom, attached by a global necklace of shackles and shingles. “Shadows never seen to fade away, and the sun don’t shine no more and the rain falls down on my door.”


Every morning the empire launches its next sinister turf war plot to own and pervert Earth. The elite meet to eat to possess each other through fundraisers in The Hamptons summer fading sunshine or they slurp wines and tasty treats sitting inside The Laundry in Napa Valley. The familiarity of guilt stenches these feigned elegant airs yet the oblivious ones of our species feel no remorse for babies nailed to posts in Syria, dolphins slaughtered in the cove, or hundreds of thousands of humans driving across the desert of Iraq to escape they know not what.


The sovereign nemesis of unholy Homo sapiens sapiens = what is mine is mine, what is yours is mine, and to hell with you, as my duty is to protect my own, and you are not my own.


Nothing spoken on the corporatocracy’s piddle stream media has one iota relationship to fact or meaning. Violence is shoved down the throats of TV cartoon watchers dressed in Baby Gap and young lovers brand their bodies seeking tenderness on a date to a movie show or a dope shooting gallery. Quietly, with neither fan fair nor Miles Davis notes, our species plummets further and further down slippery slopes into the abyss of apathy.


Heroin, grown in Afghanistan, guarded, and gardened by New Order World camo dressed killers, is shipped into the bowels of the Midwest of America or the dens of Bangkok. Smack steals former vestiges of kindness and awareness and gives back oblivion. Ayahuasca is drunk in sacred circles by Whities thinking they are finding God when in fact what they are doing is feeding their ids to the point the ego is endless. The insufferable me generation hides away inside the DMT haze to insure nothing changes if nothing changes, but they eat organic and they live close to the land. The paradox is never noticed or articulated.


Potheads, daily smokers, and the cancerous ones cannot wait to line up for their nearest and dearest govt. approved allotment. The empire grins with glee wondering why it waited so long to build generations of stoned zombies with glazed eyed, stupefied giggling and wholly lacking ambition or awareness of what is being done to them. Clever in its massaging the message millions rail across social media in favor of Mary Jane never cognizant this is exactly what the empire wants.


Big Pharma produces as quickly as cad cam possible the next happy pill and the last death delivering injection of morphine, while telling us to eat Aspirin that bleeds our guts and Violox that destroys our hearts. Every second of every moment synthetic lethal maiming poison soups are dumped, sprayed, inhaled, and exhaled across the only planet. Those busy sense no consciousness and no conscience. Corn grows taller than ever intended, bee populations collapse, and dead birds are racked into roadside ditches, forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind, and out of soul.


Some of us are detained in Gitmo or in an Ecuadorian Embassy in London or in a dungeon in Cairo. The rest of us are trapped on balconies inside corrupt systems so effective in destroying the will for liberty and justice even those with a vision must spend most of their time re-igniting the fire of freedom in the belly within. Millions of us turned into lemmings are huddled together in refugee camps while the empire pits one religiosity against another to embitter civil disorder so magnanimous, no one except the slave traders in the global casino take notice. The smartest guys in the room only perceive dollar signs to envision their next trip to Sodom and Gomorra Rio, or purchase a larger yacht as another escape hatch.


Yet, the call of wildlife from nature proceeds in almost every instance against odds in the human card game being dealt. Life in its remarkable intensity means preying mutated wolves roam the Chernobyl wilderness where no man woman or child can for the next 20,000 years. Nesting birds, once numbering in the billions, are rarities as migratory pathways are littered with human endeavors from transmission power lines, fields of poisoned ‘food’ stuffs, to cell towers, to glass fitted skyscrapers. Those who make the journey find little habitat and food for their young yet they persist in the regeneration of life.


Guided by human ignored planetary magnetics melted to the placement of the stars feathered creatures fly right into infrastructures of humanity to die in mass. Birders go out into the field dressed and armed with over the top expensive optics equivalent to a campeniso’s three years of hard hard work to grow and harvest coffee. The same coffee dilettante birders, Target workers, and schoolteachers sip to jump-start their mornings. Rez Indians, ghetto Blacks or faux ones in the White House live an existence with a ring in their noses, their souls neutered.


Millions of marine mammals have their ear bones cracked by military underwater sonar and submerged deep dragging of seismic bombing so dirty disgusting oil can find more of itself so it can drill more of itself to make more of itself so it needs more of itself and then must go and find more of itself.


I sit in my Malabar woven comfy chair, drinking ice cold coconut water, munching on Mennonite-made homegrown popcorn drizzled with their jungle finca grown raw sugar and butter. Butter churned from pretty tropical cows they tend and adore.


My suffering is above the fray centered in empathy. Personally, I agonize only in my wailing heart and sunk soul. Somehow, I broke-out from the plantation.


Amongst many sobering dreams and clean and non-mean concerns saturated in consideration and intellectualization, I hope and pray my out of control compassion makes a difference. Words are benign swords. Phrases are turns and twists to deliver understanding probably known yet cast aside in the mud and scum of nadakind’s next 24 hours.


God brings the sun up in the East and sets it the West. Is there any greater iconic symbol of our outcome? The moon phases and the tides expose, spit and roil. The planets spin on their axis in sync to our solar system in a vast cosmos connected rotating within the spirally Milky Way. Is there any greater iconic symbol of our beginning with a near end? The Milky Way every moment is consumed and integrated into a far larger galaxy. Is there any greater iconic symbol of our outcome, or karmic return?


Our species is a failed experiment listening to The Band sing Up on Cripple Creek. We traipse across the land and motor across the seas in near 100% arrogance. The aura dust behind us is toxic, the watery wake behind us churning with pollutants both chemical and vibes.


Machines we drive in pre-dawn scoop up the never-ending garbage on the beaches of Bali so as not to disturb the illusion the privileged’s holiday world is perfect and pristine.


Under the Indochine sky corruption not only rules it is a primary economic generator. In an archipelago of 13,000+ islands where sixty bucks a month is a generational guarantee of poverty, palming off $700,000 over eight years to the police, the govt., and the gluttonous judiciary keeps a truly good man tied down with his family in shame and his business inoperative. This is regular style not only in Bali. It is a global dis-ease our species depressed by its own dysfunction and avaricious, sinks itself, taking all with it.


Now crank up The Band’s The Weight[1], and remember I do love this life, I truly adore the wild creatures. Without the sustaining joy of nature and a shit load of help from my friends, I would have gone before the age of twenty.



There is a handful few of you I would lay my life down in joy if it would mean our species finally got it. If this is surrender[2], it is cloaked in love[3]. You guys do not need to ask, cause I know, “you need to take a load off for free and ya can put the load right on me. There is nothing you can say. Luke is just waiting on judgment on day.”


Van sums up the biggie for us[4].








[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjCw3-YTffo


[2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0DJ8hWgNes&list=AL94UKMTqg-9AUNAYj2Z85igZHoONeeilJ


[3] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjBZllDo_8E


[4] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrsq1werkfs&list=AL94UKMTqg-9AUNAYj2Z85igZHoONeeilJ&index=8


Egyptian Warriors

Not for the faint of heart. 

Witness here (video) the al-Sisi junta murdering Egyptian citizenry via trained military (not police gear) engagement. The level of chaos is typical of these street war zones, yet reaches new found levels of disorder for the protesters while they rescue their own under fire while retreating in mass.

Please note the citizenry carries no weapons, nor is firing upon the regime, or throwing rocks or gasoline cocktails, or brandishing anything except cell phones and a passion to be free. 

At the beginning the citizenry (men and women) is chanting. We see the burning of one al-Sisi banner in the street. These are not a group of trained terrorists. Rather, they are enraged human beings who clearly had enough of the oppression of poverty and opportunity. They are driven to take action, as meager as this street battle is, against a mega-regime. In other parts of Cairo special interests are making fortunes sipping drinks in private clubs hobnobbing with corrupt businessmen in bed with the military while millions of Egyptians are stuck eating garbage, living in filth, and selling their bodies to feed their children.

I highly suggest you watch the entire vid because the person (or persons) who taped this was an individual(s) of dramatic self control. And, while it appears to be the nature of urban Egyptians to become too curious of what is happening, I know this to be a form of shock and mass hysteria.

Martyrdom, for me, is a waste of life. I am an advocate of non-violent protest. Today, I am unsure if Egypt can move toward its next revolution thwarting repression without legions of deaths of passionate warriors of freedom. 

Egypt’s freedom fighters are out-gunned and out-lied. Certainly Egyptians who seek liberty will suffer the dire consequences of their own heartfelt drive to be free from tyranny. 

From a tactical point of view, this protest was ill-equipped. There are no circulating medics. I do not see one protester wearing any kind of helmet or other body protection. There are limited amount of barriers (see five guys carrying a cement barricade up to the front) deployed. 

Again, watch this so maybe you will break your own sense of western denial as you are force fed propaganda of the corrupt military ruling elite of Egypt. It makes no difference if you live in Alabama or Kabul, or are an MB, pro-Morsi, a left-over spent Mubarak supporter, or a guy who rents camels at the pyramids – the course of history is afoot. 

The Egyptian red line is moving like a cache of vipers in an ancient basket.