“Katia! That’s enough cherry tomatoes for now. Why don’t you bring your bucket inside and we’ll have a treat. Sugar sandwiches and iced milk with hot chocolate powder – just like Grandpa likes it. We deserve it after working so hard today in the field.”
“Ok grandma. Do you want a pail of well water for your feet?”
“That’d be nice, dear.”
Katia put the tin pail under the spout of the pitcher pump and began pumping cool, fresh well water into it.
Grandma grabbed a loaf of Wonder white bread, and went to the fridge for a tub of oleo-margarine for the sugar sandwiches. “What the…? I know I just bought a brand new tub of margarine yesterday – where is it?”
Outside, thunder was heard and rain began to sprinkle on the thirsty land. Then her eyes fell on a brick of KerryGold butter from grass-fed cows. Confusion set in for a moment, then she recalled what seemed like a distant memory – Joe’s Family had given the Kerry Gold to her just a few days ago. Suddenly, everything made sense and the purchase of oleo was forgotten.
Taking the butter and the bread to the table for sandwich assembly, she had a ‘senior moment’ and forgot what she was going to do with them. “Sandwiches?” she asked herself – trying to remember what else she was supposed to take to the table. Then she saw the container of fresh honey already sitting there. It was in the shape of a bee hive and had a honey dipper with a hand-painted blue bee on the handle.
“Oh, that’s it. Bread, butter and honey. An afternoon snack for me and my granddaughter.”
“Grandma, your pail is full. Do you want me to make the sandwiches while you cool your feet?”
“Sandwiches? No, we’re just having some butter and honey on this fresh, warm baguette. Let’s eat first.”
“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
bleah!The only hanks I recognize are hand twisted clumps of yarn.
Monkey thumb asks the 64 thousand and 63 year old question: “Do I have to serve in the Army?” Athena answers you: “Not where you’re going. There’s one who beat you to that Punschkrapfen. Not to eat it, but to liberate it (and the stone womb that was holding it) from your filthy shadow hand.”
Mr. hANKS. It was la Hella hat that was wearing an ATHENA mask the day it “all went Greek” for you. Did you make a sweetheart deal with the devil? Time to give the devil his due. Good news though, your taxes are all paid up. Time for the returns.
Mr. hEF. You cannot buy life-after-life arm candy with money. In fact this one was never ‘actually’ for sale. You were duped.
The Jean with the light brown hair gazes on a white rose, but all she sees is black. The suicide blond was actually a brunette from RENO. That one faked her death with the help of Shiva’s Dance. It was performance art for your benefit. Quel surprise! They both have their breath – and their teeth except for the time anchor previously connected to your catastrophic timeline. It found its way to a landfill somewhere. You have more chance of finding a needle in a haystack. Mr. hEF. Neither you nor the hANKS will find your sweetheart deals on your arms in the afterlife – you’re still there, she is not. Can you spell OWNED? O-W-N-E-D. Yes, you are.
Did I not mention the Model Releases? Yes. Those who signed them – EVEN THROUGH THEIR PROXIES – are released regardless of the ‘fine print’. Slippery things, those models.
Are you afraid of IBOR? Don’t be. You have the right to be forgotten, and we have the right to forget you too.
Oh by the way… That Military Mom requirement seeded into the field by Constantine’s mother – you know that mother of the Mothers of Darkness – has been deleted. That ‘requirement’ was never approved – nor was it even DISCLOSED to the ones it was bound to. Nevertheless, my eyes are still on that Army VET hat with the feather on it. Trinity Mills. I am the i in TiMM.
DOJ: Sweetheart deals shouldn’t include miscarriages of Justice. OBVIOUSLY.
Chief Feather Hat: I see closing doors on Pine Gap. I think I’ll pick up my weaver’s needle soon. Muah!
[Update 9-1-23. Now that Pine Gap is closed, maybe we can start talking about filling Groom Lake with water]
Memory rewind
LTAS. Let's talk about Systems.
Targetted: AN(u) boi. Sometimes I have to pull away from my friends in order to prevent doing harm to them throughout my FIELD.https://t.co/F2GlWa13Uq
Do I have to remind you to stop calling me "baby"?
Finally Furious Peace – enforced by well funded POLICE OFFICERS both private and public
First some definitions. Please pay close attention:
This is grape juice. Ok, fermented grape juice granted. It’s known as wine. It’s a lovely table wine, a great House wine and even serves well as an aperitif (just ask Lord Beelzabub).This is nano-tech. I was fucking furious the day I found it in the Euro market – around Easter 2020. But there it was. Today, I received confirmation that instead of the blood that its consumers were expecting to drink from the bottle, there are indeed nanites in it. These things don’t smell fear, they detect it at a sub-atomic level. Now you know. MURDEROUS ICONOGRAPHY. CRUCIFIXES ARE NOT WELCOME ON EARTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!This is an example of bread. It’s generally made of flour, yeast, salt and water. It’s delicious with real butter from grass-fed cows, olive oil and herbs, dipping sauces, tapenade etc. Clear?
Now, having clearly defined what wine and bread is, do I really need to 'show' you what IS NOT BREAD? I'm from Oregon, Colorado, Kansas, Texas and some other places - BUT NOT MISSOURI - the show-me state. I'll show you what I want to show you when I need to. And regarding what IS NOT BREAD, I choose not to. You should already know anyway.
Tinkerbell: “What is a paganism? Paul Stramer just called me a pagan after I sent a PayPal donation to Anna von Reitz.”
Faedra: “Well, my black Apple says this: Paganism (from classical Latin pāgānus “rural, rustic,” later “civilian”) is a term first used in the fourth century by early Christians for people in the Roman Empire who practiced polytheism. This was either because they were increasingly rural and provincial relative to the Christian population, or because they were not milites Christi (soldiers of Christ).[1][2] Alternate terms in Christian texts for the same group were hellene, gentile, and heathen.[3]Ritual sacrifice was an integral part of ancient Graeco-Roman religion[4] and was regarded as an indication of whether a person was pagan or Christian.[4]“
Tinkerbell: “What? I’m not a pagan! I have only ONE GOD who is the Prime Creator and I abhor ritual sacrifice! Those who fancied themselves as gods lost their godhood at Ragnarok on 2/14/2014. Also, I don’t worship the creation (nature). The creation is not greater than the Creator. What would cause him to slander me so? It seems to me that he’s the black pot calling the kettle corn burnt. Here’s what he says about HIMSELF:”
Faedra: “He’s a cradle Catholic? That’s one born into catholicism and has never strayed from it. Didn’t they used to perform ritual sacrifice of the Karistus every Easter?”
Tinkerbell: “Yes, but we stopped that Slaughter eons ago. That accusatory finger is causing all the rest of his fingers to point directly to him.”
Spider Woman overheard this conversation from her web by the fireplace. She thought to herself… “I’m confused. I have the utmost respect for Great Mother Durga, but how can her primary Avatar possibly allow that Paul Stramer guy unfettered access to her web domain?”
Personal. Paul Stramer. DON’T EVER CALL ME A PAGAN AGAIN! I mean it. Knowing what ICANN do, you may be able to imagine what I WILL do. What will YOU do? Kneel and sing in Church? Or eat and drink? Will you convert your dark web/black market BitCoins to Etherium? I’m watching you and your Watchers.
Every week has a Tuesday. A special one is in the offing. Then we can talk about Roses.
Topside 