Misc items of note

9 Years In, U.S. Finally Tries to Get a Grip on Warzone Contractors - Which suggests that it is understood how that doesn't really matter in the bigger picture.


The Daniel 8 clock is ticking.
ME war tensions mount over Gaza-bound "enemy ships." Hizballah pledges reprisal
CIA's Panetta: Iran has enough uranium for 2 bombs


I believe this phenomenon is genuine - Ball of light Wiltshire - but beware the hoaxers. Olivers Castle Crop Circle Hoax (Is It Real) Where there's fire, there's smoke. ;)

I recommend this insightful blog post, Bitter as Wormwood, on New Wineskins by ultraguy. Some comments: Like ultraguy, I suspect the re-emergence of the Picasso was no mere coincidence. See how the BP mandala resembles the absinthe flower. Also, about the Green Goddess, I see parallels with the emerald tablet of Hermes, the holy grail, the philosopher's stone, white powder gold, etc. These all appear to reference the alchemical transformation of DNA ultimately to be fulfilled in the mark of the Beast. I think the green color theme points back to the green-skinned Osiris and the serpent-tree of knowledge of good and evil in the garden. The revival of absinthe appears to be a Nephilim sign like so many others, a portent of the coming Beast and a facilitator of his coming.


Since I've been writing about drug spells, you might appreciate this perspective.

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Different drug problem - attributed to Randy and Melanie Bordelon

The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in a old farmhouse in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question,“Why didn’t we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?”

I replied, I had a drug problem when I was young:
I was drug to church on Sunday morning.
I was drug to church for weddings and funerals.
I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.
I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults.
I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn’t put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me.
I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered a profanity.
I was drug out to pull weeds in mom’s garden and flower beds and cockleburs out of dad’s fields.
I was drug to the homes of family, friends and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to now the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood, and if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the woodshed.

Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin; and, if today’s children had this kind of drug problem, America would be a better place. God bless the parents that drugged us.