Every Nice Sunday Afternoon

I have heard and read about miraculous healing in mags like Readers Digest which I weirdly enough read avidly as a CHILD. my parents had a subscrip and I "digested" it every month. The medical type stories in every issue were one of the things that made me go into the nursing field. 17 years in the ICU/CVICU (post open heart) never showed me 1 case that was miraculous. I was disillusioned on life, "miracles" etc and slapped down as far as my gullibility and naivety went. Got the ICU version of street smarts. Never lost the emotional kicker though...every treatment, every procedure, every patient care action that was outside the nurses' comfort measure realm showed me that what the doctors do to " cure " causes more suffering and the nurses' job is to hold the patient in position, give the meds, the ivs, preps, blah blah blah, and hold the patients' hand while the doc proceeded to torture the poor individual then wash and mop up the gore or wheel the leftovers sheeted over down the back elevator. SO. Thanks to a good Opera friend for at least 1 real life example that yeah, there can be "outside" help. I had pretty much given up that ghost. There IS a Project Slowkill he speaks of. This is majorly what causes me to break down a time or two (or three, like today) and cry. which does no good. this started several thousand years ago when we were boosted out of the stone age and propelled into the space and computer age at lightening speed compared to the evolution steps and speed up to that turning point. the cause of the turn, I won't go into here; the new evidence dug up all the time, is basically suppressed in the main stream; of course it is - religious beliefs teach things aimed at keeping us in line, blissfully happy singing praises and doing good turns, so as to deserve another. wouldn't want to upset THAT apple cart. you have a whole country doing good deeds and you have a country of mice you can teach the mazes like our original ancestors were taught. so we stay productive, we work, we get health insurance so that we can go to the medical industry and obtain overpriced stuff and services to treat bullshit disease caused by the stuff in our food, water, meds, over the counter stuff, air probably, nicotine, street "meds" which are REALLY controlled by the folks who actually think they run the things and the people who we think are our governing leaders. right. puppets run by the big wigs which make up the top control everything from Wall street, to gold value, to the Federal Reserve, to genetic manipulations and who hold the future of the earth, they think, in their hands. ha ha ha. they are the idiots. when the "last" 90 percent of our brains are clicked to the on position, we may have a split second of enlightenment and will see the truth before we vapourize. or that may be the start of "heaven" on earth. or whatever. what controls all the crap here on this damned rock is a force. call it what ever you want, whatever your cavemates or villagemates or building with the cross on top mates call it. sing what ever you want to it. visualize whatever image you want for it then paint it on your cave walls or a canvas or a computer screen. spread it around. get others like you. have them put money in an envelope, on a plate, in a cup next to you on the street corner, or in your hand. have them get others. and on and on it goes. go forth, be fruitful. nice. by the time you figure it out, you have kids and they already have kids. you might as well shut up and have your 2 or 3 cries over the grandkids who now have to go from birth just to look forward to death. but be happy, as there is a whole huge industry cranking out pretty packages of Soylent Green type products, pac man games, rosaries, pretty dogs and kittens, mp3 players, knick knacks and gourmet restaurants to keep you diverted and forgetful of what you know is simmering on the back burner of your soul. that entity we call whatever we want based on whatever old papers found in whatever old jar planted in whatever desert, is keeping it all spinning in that little globe of what we think is a galaxy hanging on that cat collar. cynical? whatever. just toss me a xanax. I'll be quiet for another few hours. btw, that book I mentioned, Unintended Consequences, is by John Ross and pub by Accurate Press and is not fiction. about real people, historically correct. So. there it is. that's what SHE said. luv ya, smile. we're doing good.