Want a Taste of the Other’s Propaganda for a change? It is right here.RT News | Livestream 24/7

Take a break from “Our” propaganda for a little of “The Other” propaganda. Because what, after all, do we really know? We don’t even know, for example, how many ongoing sabotage operations are being run on American food and energy plants or what nation or what party is behind them. We barely know that there are active sabotage operations being carried out in America. Some might say it’s “Them Rooskies!” but my money’s on the Greens and the ObamaBideninskis™ ®.

NOTE: I believe this is a constant RT stream so the news and opinion items differ and different times.

Step by step, inch by inch, the ObamaBideninski Wreckers are dragging us into a war with this country.

Filled up in Chico, California this morning. Price was $6.49 for regular. If I could get my hands on Gavin Newsom I’d part him out at the next neighborhood barbeque. Folks would be lining up for seconds.

[continue reading…]

Oh, great googa-looga, can’t you hear me talking to you?

How Low Can You Go? – Kunstler   “Joe Biden’s” proxy war against Russia in Ukraine isn’t working out. It was flamboyantly stupid from the get-go. We deliberately broke the Minsk agreements for a cease-fire in the Donbas to goad the Russians into action. NATO didn’t have the troops or the political mojo to back up its US-inspired bluster. Our financial warfare blew back in our faces and actually benefited the Russian economy and its currency, the ruble. The billions of dollars in weapons we’re sending into the war are easily interdicted in transport, or else are getting loose in a world of non-state maniacs ranging from the Taliban to al Qaeda to drug cartels.

Meanwhile, Russia steadfastly grinds out a victory on-the-ground that will leave it in control of the Black Sea and will reveal the USA’s lost capacity to impose its will around the world. In other words, our Ukraine project “to weaken Russia” brought on an epochal shift in the balance of power to our enormous disadvantage. This is on top of more than twenty years of US military fiascos from Afghanistan, to Iraq, to North Africa, to Syria which demonstrated our reckless disregard for human life and a gross inability to carry out a mission. This aggregate failure and display of weakness leaves us vulnerable to Chinese aggression in the Pacific. There is even spooky chatter now about China venturing to invade Australia, Japan, and the USA mainland. Yes, really.

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Extraction / Protective Agents – Ukraine | Silent Professionals

JOB LOCATION:  Ukraine (nationwide travel required)
START DATE: IMMEDIATE
PAY: $1,000 — $2,000 per day(1) bonus(2)

Employment Type: Contractor (1099)

(1) Pay rate will be based on experience, knowledge of AO, individual client, assigned location, and position within the extraction team
(2) Completion bonus will be discussed with employer

Employer is a US-based corporation seeking multiple Extraction / Protective Agents and teams to conduct part-time, covert, extraction/evacuation operations of individuals and families throughout the countryside and major cities of Ukraine.  Both male and female agents are welcome to apply.  Only highly experienced candidates who possess at least 5 years of military experience in this region of Europe will be considered for this role – no exceptions.

NOTE: If you do not have extensive prior experience protecting private clients in a solo practitioner / small team capacity and 5 years of military experience, you will not be competitive.  Only competitive candidates will be contacted for further vetting.  Non-competitive candidates will simply not be considered or contacted.

PREFERRED QUALIFICATIONS:

– Candidates who are currently residing in Ukraine, a border country, or within an EU or Schengen nation
– Ability to speak Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, Slovak, Hungarian, Romanian, and or Moldovan language(s)
– Candidates with prior backgrounds in a Tier 1, SOF or combat arms MOS are highly desired and will be given primary preference
– Have a strong working knowledge of Ukrainian highways, roadways, terrain, and culture
– Have prior experience conducting rescue operations with little to no support within war-torn or active warzone battlescapes
– Prior experience working with FBOs and knowledge of pathfinder operations
– Have experience and knowledge with vehicle, aircraft, and naval craft recognition skills of Soviet-era and NATO military armament
– Candidates that possess active First Responder, EMT certifications, or attended an 18D course are highly desired
– Have prior experience conducting surveillance/counter surveillance operations within the private security, private military, or military sectors
– Have prior experience conducting advance operations in support of private security, private military, or military sectors
– Possess prior experience as a security driver – specifically driving in a low profile capacity through hostile territory as a solo vic or part of a very small convoy

Gov. Ron DeSantis reacts to Elon Musk saying he would vote for him if he ran for president:

“I welcome support from African Americans. What can I say?” pic.twitter.com/n3OK5b0ocp

— The Post Millennial (@TPostMillennial) June 15, 2022

Published on November 2, 2021 Written by psychology-spot.com

“The stupid ones are more fearsome than Mafia, the military-industrial complex or the Communist International. They’re an unorganized group, without a leader or norm, but in spite of that, they act in perfect harmony, as guided by an invisible hand.

“With the smile on his lips, as if he were doing the most natural thing in the world, the stupid will appear on the spur of the moment to spoil your plans, destroy your peace, complicate your life and work, make you lose money, time, good humor, productivity, and all this without malice, without remorse and without reason. Stupidly.”

These are the words of the famous professor of economic history Carlo Cipolla, who taught at the universities of Pavia and Berkeley and published academic works in which he analyzed overpopulation throughout history but passed to posterity thanks to his “Theory of Stupidity”, condensed in his book “The Basic Laws of Human Stupidity”, a treatise on human stupidity with satirical overtones.

The 5 basic laws of human stupidity

1. Always and inevitably, each of us underestimates the number of stupid individuals in the world

That there are stupid people in the world is well known. But Cipolla was convinced that we underestimated their number and influence in our lives and in society. He stated that “any numerical estimate would prove to be an underestimate”.

It’s enough thinking, for example, of those people we classified as intelligent but who suddenly begin to behave in a foolish and obtuse manner. Or it’s enough going out to the street to see how many people insist on hindering us, for no apparent reason other than stupidity.

2. The probability that a certain person is stupid is independent of any other characteristic of the same person

Cipolla was convinced that stupidity was another characteristic, like blond hair or black eyes. Therefore, it’s distributed in all circles of society in a more or less similar proportion. He cites a study on the level of stupidity in the four large strata that make up universities: beadles, employees, students, and teachers. In this analysis, it was found that the distribution of stupidity was uniform, no matter how much we ascended in the educational level.

“Whether you practice elegant circles or you take refuge among the Polynesian head cutters, you lock yourself in a monastery or decide to spend the rest of your life in the company of beautiful women, the fact remains that you must always face the same percentage of stupid people”, he concluded. [continue reading…]

Whose Will decreed this landlocked sea
Framed falling sun with glint of green?
What plan determines stone’s design,
Or star’s hot heart, or shadow’s sheen,

Or that we mark, as clever beasts,
The passing haze of Comet’s fall,
And are that glaze of dream on flesh
That sees the need of Plan at all?

I know, I know… No Plan at all
Is said by some to be The Plan.
But what then are these shimmered thoughts
That seem to measure more than man?

Pray not deep down but far afield,
Beyond the limits of our sight.
It cannot be that all that is
Is only night on deeper Night.

But should such Night be all that is,
And all as purposeless as stone,
The Heart still sings the body’s chants,
And moves His Light within our bones.

Perhaps this pattern that we live
In woven time between two Lights
Is but some Dance done to amuse
The Face beyond our blinded sight.

Yet what Dark mind could feel a gleam
Of pleasure from such turns,
Instead of parsing shrouds of Night
From our countenance of burns?

The Countenance of Comets
That the sky at night assumes
Mutes all mathematics carved
On this Continent of Tombs.

For to stand within a meadow
And sense the swell of wind
Is ample compensation
For the Gift that days rescind.

At length our modern marvels
Are but blots of haze on slate
That we note with faint attention
As we step between the Gates,

And dance, to some faint Music,
Along the path of life’s Retreat,
That ancient, ageless Minuet
That rounds our sleep with Sleep.

Everything was cool until cocaine suppository began to kick in.

UPDATE: This just in from the meeting. Who has been swapping essences with who? Rep. Maxine Waters, Canadian PM Justin Trudeau positive for COVID-19 after Summit of the Americas

There’s a mental image that will require years, YEARS!, of therapy to erase from my memory.

Some years ago I was visiting an old friend in Florida. This pal (A large man who is actually “a sensitive little forest flower.”) loves boats and boating and maintained two, count ‘em, two homes in Florida set up for boating.

The first home was his main base in Ft. Lauderdale. It was a three-bedroom two-bath operation with a swimming pool, an office, and a long boat dock where he kept “the Big Boat.”

The second home was a smaller house set up on stilts down in the depths of the Florida Keys twenty miles above Key West with two bedrooms, one bath, and a boat dock on a canal where he kept “the Little Boat.”

Since he used the Keys house only now and again throughout the year he decided at some point to rent it out. After careful, cautious advertising he did rent it out for a year to a well-vetted man. When I visited him that lease was up and he and I went to the Keys house to check it out. A day or so before we arrived my pal had a house cleaner go in to change all the bedding and spiff up the rest of the house.

When we got there I went into the guest bedroom to unpack my things into the chest of drawers. As I opened the bottom drawer I found the renter or one of his guests had left some underwear and t-shirts in the bottom drawer. Under them, the same person has left behind a large, realistic (‘veined’), and battery-powered dildo in a plastic bag with some suspicious smears on the inside. Moving the switch around inside the bag without touching the dildo I determined that the batteries were, to say the least, fresh. Like Elvis’s King Creole this dildo was “jumpin’ like a catfish on a pole.” I left it turned on.

Even though he is a manly man my pal is also, as noted above, “a very sensitive little forest flower.” The least hint of some sort of object that had spent party time somewhere inside a person’s body fills him with shivering, visceral loathing. My pal took one look at my vibrating “discovery” and walked shuddering into the kitchen. He returned with his hands in rubber dishwashing gloves and a pair of kitchen tongs.

He gingerly picked up the bag containing the dildo with the tongs and then, holding it as far away from himself as possible, walked down the stairs to the carport and dropped the offensive package into the garbage can. He then dropped the tongs into the garbage can. He then removed his rubber gloves, dropped them in the can, and then – still shivering with loathing and muttering to himself — went back upstairs and took a long hot shower followed by an emergency cocktail. File under: “Sensitive, Flower of Forest.”

Because I was an old friend who understood and deeply respected his “issues,” I promptly snuck down to the garbage cans, retrieved the dildo in the bag, switched it to off, and hid it in my luggage.

Several days later, with the dildo incident forgotten (except for my pal’s repeated declaration he would NEVER EVER rent out the Keys house again), we returned to Fort Lauderdale. After arriving my pal announced he was going to run to the store to pick up some groceries. I nodded and waved from my perch on the couch in the living room and watched him drive off down the street.

Then I got up and took the bagged dildo out of my luggage and went into his office. I slid open the drawer on the right-hand side of his desk and emptied its contents, hiding them in the next drawer down.

I then unbagged said dildo and placed it in the empty drawer and turned it on. Closing the drawer I was pleased to note a faint but perceptible hummmmm and vibration from the desk.

Then I went back out to the couch, picked up a magazine, and waited.

Soon my pal returned with a bag of groceries. Nodded to me as he came in.

“Hey, man, there was a phone call on your office line. Probably left a message.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.” Walks into the office.

My mind says,

“Wait for it…

“Wait for it…”

Suddenly a most unmanly scream comes wafting out of the office into the living room. My pal appears, trembling, pale, and shocked.

“Out….. get it out….. now….. please… I’m begging you.”

Weeping from laughter, I stagger into the office and glance down into the open drawer where I can see the powered-up dildo shaking and slowly moving in a circle on the bottom of the drawer. I pick up the bag by the corner and display it to him. Then I rebag it. He is standing by the opened back door pointing to the garbage can. I go out and ceremoniously drop it in…. vibrating all the way down.

He’s back in the kitchen. Boiling water. It will take three quarts of water and two gloved scrubbings with Brillo soap pads until he’s satisfied that the drawer in his desk is finally purged of Dildo Cooties.

In a couple of days, I leave.

The next year I’m back. In his office one day I absently pull open the right-hand top drawer of his desk. There’s a pure white and unstained sheet of liner on the bottom and nothing else in the drawer.

Like I said, for a big man my pal is a very sensitive little forest flower.

Every day I try to become more cynical, but lately, I just can’t keep up.