Sunday, June 29, 2008

Talks With Hell

The story I am about to tell is true, but I have changed my name to protect the innocent. You may call me the Goat Formerly Known as Scape. The irony, the sense of paradox is almost too great for me, but I have learned to live with it. It's a dilemma.

It is a crazy-man's dilemma with which I am living and dealing: if given the chance I could weave a yarn, a tale of speculative fiction which could bring tears to your eyes, but instead I am patted on the head and given a basket to weave. How ironic this is.

Allow me to use an illustration to explain. Let's say I have a friend who has had a nervous breakdown, that is, he has experienced more than his share of emotional exhaustion, more in one person's life, his life, than a normal person can biologically tolerate, with a family history of paranoid schizophrenia, to boot. His life reached the point of a major transition on November 30, 2001, the night of which there was a blue moon, only the third blue moon in the month of November since 1906. The second one in recorded modern history occurred on November 22, 1963. This story is a doozy.

This individual was born on July 21, 1953.

My friend knew and knows that he is at the end of his rope, incapable of working and supporting his family, because what caused him to have his nervous breakdown, or, rather, what it was that was the barbell that broke the camel's back, was being hired under false pretenses in a ministerial job where he believed he had finally arrived. This friend believed he had landed finally in a satisfying job with good pay in which he could serve the Lord ... only to find out that the job was a trap.

He'd always thought he was different, but didn't wish to call attention to himself. Now he knows, at the age of 48, which he was at the time these events occurred seven years ago, that he has been and he is different; and now he knows that he was not the only person who thought so. To hear the conspirators tell it, the guy acted like he was some kind of nut, or something. He acts like a disabled veteran, for Pete's sake, you know -- PTSD, post-traumatic stress syndrome, psychotic, shy, withdrawn, often depressed, clinically depressed -- and we know he's not one of those, a veteran ... so he must be a sinner.

No, he is a veteran. And I have brain chemistry which has been altered by stress and organic brain damage. For which I take medicine. Lots of it. And it works ... but for how long?

The crazy-man's dilemma is being diagnosed as crazy, after finally being isolated out on a ledge, with no one who could understand enough to help you in your darkest hour ... and so they put me away. And the crazy-man's dilemma is ... he legitimately sees real things, but because of a damaged brain, or, providential favor, or both? The latter it would seem. But because he has been diagnosed as crazy ... no one believes what he has to say. And he's the only one around who can say it. But even his own family won't help him get out his good message, but the person who has it is just ... dad ... or somebody's spouse ... and what can God want with dad? He's just an average guy. Who happens to be crazy.

As a fox.

The question is: Does the crazy man see what he sees because no one will believe him -- in other words, the mysteries are safe with him, because no one will believe him -- or does he see what he sees, that which he has providentially been permitted to see, because he has earned the right to see it? Or is he really seeing anything at all? Or is he really seeing anything?

If he is, why is he not being given better confirmation ... and why is there no one to help him distribute his message? And isn't it ironic that at one time, when he was not aware of anything about himself worth telling, when he was a journalist, that he had access to page one of a daily newspaper and contacts in the business, extending to wire services? But now has access to none of these things. It is ironic and maddening. It will cease to be the moment I hand off the baton, enabling me finally to stop running and catch my breath, perhaps, before the next part of my story begins to unfold.

So, while I am telling you this story, it is unfolding as we speak; and while it can be done, purely from an artistic perspective it is difficult to tell a story in first person, in real time, as it is occurring. And because all of these apocalyptic things are occurring, will there be an economy left within which to work, a nation, a publishing industry which has not disintegrated, not yet, so that I can have a best-selling "Chick Little Wittenberg Door experience" on a mass media scale that everyone will want to read, will need to read?

And why do I care ... why do I care as much as I do?

Now, onto what they know ... how it is that they have come to know it ... and why it is they who have been chosen to know it. This too is ironic and very paradoxical, because the most important people in the world, who believe they have been specially chosen by fate and God to lead mankind into the future, these are the ones who have been told what they most exclusively know, or believe that they know; in other words, they can tell no one, even as they are helping to carry out, as they act upon what they know. Which is the abandonment of America. You'd think someone would tell us, but those who know have been told that we cannot know, because we could not handle it as well as they, they being so damned smart.

When, in truth, they aren't -- they're corrupt ... and they have been corrupted by their own personal legacy; they've never known a time when they were not thinking falsely about themselves, when they did not feel shrewd like father and his friends, when they were not in a position of being duped. It has been their role to play in a story which has already been told, written and printed.

What the powerful elite have done is fallen into is a trap. Their out-of-sight advisors are so unusual looking -- very, being bad geneticists and transplant specialists, shall we say -- that they must lay back and wait, wait until we need their help ... and then they become ... our creators. And some of us are glad to see them, foolishly. Really, all they have really wanted all along, was a way to round us up, and control us, maybe so that they can mate with us and feed on us.

Way to go, George!

And they say, "Hey kid, come eh." And the kid goes there.

"We wanna show you somethin' that nobody knows about but you and the people who already know," the tall stranger says. "Dat is if youze want to see da ting." And the kid wants to see it. And the stranger takes the naive kid to an entrance, perhaps where it is cold and not hot, and they enter, and the stranger gives the kid a perspective like he has never had of the world ... and he is invisible. What's happened apparently is beings have found an alternate reality by going the speed of light cubed, and a little faster ... and they've showed this discovery to naive humans, a lotta power, not a lot of smarts, and the humans have said, "Which ring do I kiss first, Mr. God ... this is awesome!"

It seems awesome even when death, as in killing people, is brought into the question. Because the rich, famous, powerful and stupid go right along with the idea that, what the heck, God kills people ... why shouldn't I ... especially if he tells me face to face that I can just kill away, assassinate, do all kinds of wars and stuff. Shoot, I have God's permission. I have a hunting license guaranteed by God. Hey, what am I gonna do, argue with God?

And they've fallen for it, believing these freaks can help us, having had it explained to them that the world is in trouble with short supplies of everything, that we have to kill, so that we'll be able to survive.

And behind the backs of these people ... these demons are laughing their asses off.

By telling these people that they only need "God's help," reinforcements to turn this thing around, the dim-witted politicians and military men have gone along with it -- hand-picked no doubt ... because our enemies know just how stupid these people are. In fact, they're like children, they're childlike, naive, because they've been pampered like children all their lives. And now ... it will be their types ... which will have done us all in ... in the end.

It's dangerous to have anybody think that anyone is expendable, that life is not a gift. Not only are these people not anti-abortion, pro-life people ... but they believe in killing whole groups of babies, and their siblings and parents, they are willing to kill babies after they have grown up to become fathers and mothers themselves like over in Africa, where Americans are convinced the poor people over there are cursed. And then there are all those who have been killed wearing the uniforms of the Armed Forces, who, while courageous, were no more and no less intelligent than those who sent them off to be needlessly killed.

I lived and worked in Africa, in Ethiopia and Eritrea for a year ... and you know what, it's we who are cursed.

Our being wedded to efficiency and competition, precision, mankind providing for man ... is what made the appeal of the Babylonian gods so convincing.

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