This is about something deeper than surface.
The title of this piece refers to a colourful expression we used growing up in Oxford; so common was it that I thought everyone in the country used it. Apparently they didn’t or don’t. I still do though and so does everyone I know in Oxford. It is used to describe someone’s swift and vigorous reaction to something said to them in the moment – i.e. the person going about their business, is interrupted by something they perceive as abusive or unjust, then stops what they are doing to confront the assailant/s. Get it? Right…
In the last Howlin’ I wrote a little on David Icke’s travails with travel to Oz on a yak tour.
On the face of it the best one could say about the government of that sun-burned land is that they, failing to check the facts, got burned themselves by intentionally deceptive misrepresentation by sorts with ulterior agendas and orders. What the idiotic speech-writers and purveyors of Dark causes don’t seem to get is that claims of Icke’s anti-semitism are fast becoming one of the best of cures for somnambulism. Those who can understand what words are saying only have to read David’s books to wake up to who is telling the truth here – and who benefits from skewing his messages.
As most visitors to this website already know everything that we do on line is watched, recorded and in many cases stored, by technology installed and kept by the Deep State. Echelon being only one of these surveillance programmes. Your name is already on the list…Like… it or not!
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‘The people’, everywhere, are not the ones that constructed the powerful spells concealed in language, the insidious programmes that motivate and control every aspect of humankind’s lives unnoticed; intentionally and successfully beguiling many to carry out endless crimes against their fellows and companions in this world.
To see what is behind this vile torment we must look behind the curtains of history to who it was that first propagated enchanted written words.
In all likelihood, humans, being the wonderfully perceptive and gifted creative beings that they innately are, discovered the original unblemished art for themselves; in small communities with languages specific to them.¹ It would have begun with signs, using pieces of wood or stone (for example), in predetermined and agreed patterns. Their positioning would have been important. As individual groups from communities went their own way and still needed to communicate with each other, a more transportable means of conveying messages was necessary. Devices such as tattoos, dress, scrapings on stones and wood carving for example, were conceived. Each part of a pattern meant something. Today we call these ‘parts’, syllables.
We need to look at syllables.
So, after relentlessly priming the British public to accept that Labour’s Jeremy Corbyn is a shambling, witless no-mark; and mobilising the bought-and-paid-for gabbles of the face-less ones’ pervasive propaganda machinery to do it, the gangle they’ve imposed, Theresa May (Theresa Mary May, née Brasier; born 1 October 1956), she of the crocodilian Tories, has announced a ‘SNAP’ general election, on 8th June: