Champagne And Confuse And Conquer…

I don’t have to tell YOU that life isn’t all sunshine and snacks.  You know better.  You are out on the streets and you are pissed.  Things aren’t the way Mr. Rogers described them to you…and you wanna know why.
But when the celebrities start showing up for your cause…it should give you pause.  Is Susan Sarandon a “designated lefty”?….is Michael Moore predicting a path that has already been drawn in someone’s CAD program? Has the Wall Street protest been orchestrated for dupes…a safety vent…a “me too” in this spring that has lasted so long?  Is this a hijacking?
All good questions.  But I have some more.  You have some more.  We all want answers to why we can’t sleep for worry about our upcoming mortgage payments and we want someone to blame.  The mayor says not to blame the poor working stiffs in the tall buildings…they are just so much fodder that, at a whim, will be leaping to their deaths, if we need yet another war.  Well…he didn’t say that…but that’s what he is thinking.  And he thinks you are nuts to parade up and down a cold windy street with the cops on your heels.  He hasn’t missed a meal…and he HAS no mortgage payments.

So who DO you blame?  Well Susan and Michael and Max are there to tell you.  Blame yourselves.  Scream till you can’t scream anymore.  Carry those placards and traipse those brick streets till your hands and feet are numb with the cold.  Feel the mace on your face.  Get pushed and pulled.  Get it out of your system.  Demand.  Sing. Beg those drinking champagne in your face to let you just buy one more I-phone next week…you promised your kids.  Puhllllllleeeeeezzzzze.  Then…go back to work.

You don’t know if the Arab Spring was orchestrated by the champagne drinkers…you just want to be one of them.  You don’t know if Gaddafi is a good guy or a bad guy…you just want it all to end.  You don’t know if Wolf is lying through his teeth…on your side…or if he should have his throat slit from ear-to-ear.  You just want some peace.  Financial peace.  World peace.  Whirled peas. Anything to stop the pain of feeling your denial crumble.

It’s all so confusing.

But it doesn’t have to be.  Sometimes you think…”if I just had the Rosetta Stone about all this.  Something…a key…that makes it all fit and make sense.”  If you had a tool…a translation device that tells the lies from the truth, then you could concentrate all your efforts.  You wouldn’t have to beg vague entities to show you who owns your mortgage at any given point.  You could turn off your teevee when you heard the lies.  You could identify the bullshit immediately by consulting your map…your key…your tool.


Well…such an “app” exists.  It won’t be available for the I-phone 5 or the I-pad 3 however.  It…like many other such devices are too dangerous to the PTB to be so publicly disseminated.  Susan Sarandon does not own one…she knows what it will tell you…but she will not use it.  Michael Moore and Max Kaiser deny that such a tool exists and tell you that you do not need this device.  But it does exist.


And like the head-smack of the scientist, after calculating and wrestling with a problem for years…”it’s so simple…why didn’t I see it before”. 

Well there is a reason that you didn’t.  There is a reason that Wolf and Max and the rest of the champagne drinkers don’t want you using this key…this device.  Because if you do…if you see the common denominator in all these problems swirling around you…well…their champagne supply will dry up, and they will do that final dance at the end of a strand of hemp.
If you look to the house of Rothschild and all that it implies…if you look to israhell as you follow the money that left your pocket…you will meet these celebrities on that trail.  You will cut them down like so many bothersome weeds, without regard…on your way to the source.  The source of your pain.  The source of everyone’s suffering.


So you cannot be allowed to use this tool…this formula…this code that reveals Satan and all his minions…this key that unlocks all the mystery that seems to confound even the Wolf.  You must remain confused.  You must see all this rebellion as “complicated”.  You mustn’t understand that all these rebellions from North Africa to Wisconsin are decrying the same subjugation.  You must not equate dead Palestinian children with jewish mentality.  You must not equate Hamas with “heroic” freedom fighters in Libya.  You must not confuse the two. You must cry for “democracy”. 
You must not use the word “jew”.  You cannot be allowed to identify those that prey on your fear and your fairness…your stupidity and your greed.  The house of cards must not fall.  You have been told to leave the temple…you have been told to follow the money…but you mustn’t.
You have to be placated.  You must be calmed.  Here come the celebrities.  They will know what to do.  See?  They are there yelling with you!  They too feel your pain.  They know what you are about, and what to do about it.  Then they go home to one of their three mansions and drink their champagne.  Like you will go home and try to get some sleep in all your confusion.  You have to work tomorrow, after all.

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9 thoughts on “Champagne And Confuse And Conquer…

  1. Hey Timster,…It's the Last Night of The Prom'.You know you can't get tickets to the Last Night of The Prom' without showing a full or half season ticket stub for the Promenade festival. Even celebrities have to take pot-luck, so you'll often see them in the streets lining up with the Prols.It's all worth it in the end though, you get to stand in the freezing cold rain and sing Land of Hope & Glory as the gentry sit high above you in sheltered booths, smiling condescendingly whilst sipping their champagne.www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQ0oCmDXrVkveritas

  2. Gawd O'mighty T! You are on fire Bro. Your latest reminds me of a dream I had some years back.I was out in my yard when an old army deuce and a half came down the road. In the back were some guys. Regular guys I guess. Could have been my neighbors but in a dream most faces are indiscernible. They were all armed with various implements of the peasantry. Some had the weapons slung over a shoulder. They stopped and I yelled to them," Hey where ya'll goin'?" One of them elled back that they were on their way to________ to kill ______'s. I yelled for them to hold on so I could grab my semi-auto pitchfork and torch. The dream ended there but let me tell you, it is a favorite of mine and I am always looking out the window for that truck. Hopefully before I get too old to participate.Semper fi Bro.

  3. Okay, okay, okay! I use to read your post and not pay attention to the pictures. It's hard to read when you have such naughty pictures staring at you! So now I get my fill of the pictures before I read. This post had #$%&ed me up big time! The first picture made me dizzy, the second picture was beautifully artistic! The third picture scared the shit out of me! Well, the fourth picture was painful in a weird way! Oh, oh, oh! Before I forget the post was right good! I'm going to nickname you THE ENERGIZER BUDDY, you keep going and going and going!!! AH, HAHAHAHAHA

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