this facebook thread came up today and built itself up like something that should be saved. i avoid using the names of the two other people involved in the post, because they are both also members of media (in whatever form) and i didn't ask if i could copy and paste their shite. without further ado...
dangerous thinking (part 1)
Jon Pelletier
the department of capturing and drugging should be abolished, as it is now used primarily for the capture and behavioral rehabilitation of people who believe themselves to be magical or special and those that do not want to comply with standard ways of thinking or social norms. the mental health act is often used to change and stigmatize political activists. it is proven that the only positive side effect of the torment and forced tranquility provided by this governmental department is the ability to make people stop talking. although useful in times of dissent, it does not actually change the persons opinion of the situation, just allows the "normies" of the general public to consider intelligent people diluted or disabled, and is a great way to discredit their ideas. the drugs make their patients reliant on the system, or sleep all day and be silent. psychologists and counselors, however, should be provided for no cost to the patient. psychiatrists will also quit getting paid for every pill they prescribe, which would get children and elders alike off dangerous medicines comparable or terrifyingly similar in many studies to cocaine, speed and barbiturates. sounds paranoid, right? that's what they want you to think.
Like · · Unfollow Post · 57 minutes ago
R C Z H and J W like this.
J W - You change an obsolete system by creating a new One!!! >>> Join your local healing community...most there have had the above option...but turned to community rather than Government to aid each other through times like this.
and I agree...don't become a government drug user!! ;)
52 minutes ago · Like
Jon Pelletier they made me take the drugs against my will for a long time, then it actually turned out in the notes they just thought i was gay. i'm not, but i'm not worried about it like they said i was. other than that there was no diagnosis, but i was loud and political, and all the psychiatrist wrote about me was a few notes when i was 15. even if i was gay i don't really feel like that's a reason to tranquilize me. and i don't know if ganesha coming down from the ceiling and telling me that the government is lying to me about everything make me gay. i mean, he was purple or whatnot, but that's not necessarily homosexual... the lesson i took from it after years of emotional torment and trouble trying to get up and move at all is that i just should mention some things to some people. like, what i did is mention something to a school counseller that i should have said to a priest, they sent to the psychiatrist and said it again... 10 years of life gone and i had nothing to show for it except a reliance on government tranquillizers and the depression and embarassing appointment every couple of weeks of getting a long needle of apathy drugs in the butt. and i this sort of thing is common.
45 minutes ago · Like
J W - yes...I have heard stories of the like.... but you have something.... You have your Will and your knowledge from it all. and from that... You can do anything!!! and help many....
42 minutes ago · Unlike · 1
Jon Pelletier "oh, i've lived six times in the last hundred years often as dopplegangers of musicians playing in the same band, jabberwocky, the fancy show (with knives) not of stages, as requested ... you know, the legitimate english reincarnate that was asked politely to serve the war-crimes papers to the bush administration because they either thought i did neat work or they thought hector from jabberwocky playing a 100 year all requests set would let them get off unpunished, because they have never had the divine right of power gifted by an intelligent universe until there was a grand technological development and it was only because spirits knew that he would try to destroy the world and be unsuccessful, then live in infamy for all time as an example of what not to do... it happens every 1000 years or so i figure, because if you map the reigns of genocidal maniacs they usually coincide with technological leaps forward." if you mention something like that to a doctor he tries to lock you away and prescribes you shut up and quit caring medicine, often proven to make the patient a drug addict...
dangerous thinking
23 minutes ago · Like
R C Z H - big pharma is a cancerous boil on humanity. only concerned with money and the medical and social system is the most lazy self concerned pile of crap going these days. it's all about the money in the end.. sad
20 minutes ago · Like
Jon Pelletier it's more worrisome if it's about control
13 minutes ago · Like
Jon Pelletier controlling people is an exercise in futility, either way, because you can't. buts it is really twisted if that's what they are trying to do.
12 minutes ago · Like
R C Z H - control is an issue for all governing bodies. but it's about a self centered society that has no time for other peoples problems anymore. they just look for ways to make them disappear so as they can go on with their shopping. there is no empathy anymore. no real empathy. how can there be, no one has the time. they're all to busy trying to get laid in one way or the other.
5 minutes ago · Like
Jon Pelletier it's easy to shun someone who has dangerous facts by saying they are mentally ill. it creates a stigma, multiplied by the effects of the medication (face drooping, slow/slurred speech, hard time getting through comments, apathy, depression). it's terrifying.
2 minutes ago · Like
19.2.12
By distraction, my leave from her light had tense speed running through me, like a irate craft or heady nun, she sped toward the light. Had they known either of the thoughts, I felt unsure they could multiply and I set with increased importance, a letter to help the form take hold. These are dead scraps in the distance, a scrape to the window sill or a tapping on the glass to tell these times thier details or to escape winters grasp as a soul with righteous indignation and resolve. I am only bringing it forward to march between these halls. The sped light of eight or more candles and the space in the lair told us the other thought you cloud.
It is important to note that the discussion was of a gentle tapping or slow rapping on the window, sir. It was keeping me up at night. The candle flickered in the morning as the silent street beckoned and I surely wrote the letter for the silent night that came upon the research brought for water-marked new papers a notary public knew and could bring towards these lights on a harmonious brilliant surface. Because the dream is over and I have to believe in mind, I assure you that these lights bring my surface up and make my place of this design.
The neighbor looks in first condescendingly and then twice with deep regard. I am not the person he assumed me to be. I am not tapping at his window. The connection between us is that at last I am assured that this tapping is not his handiwork. It is from a branch in the wind swinging on an invisible tree that is gently rapping at the window. It is keeping us up at night.
It is important to note that the discussion was of a gentle tapping or slow rapping on the window, sir. It was keeping me up at night. The candle flickered in the morning as the silent street beckoned and I surely wrote the letter for the silent night that came upon the research brought for water-marked new papers a notary public knew and could bring towards these lights on a harmonious brilliant surface. Because the dream is over and I have to believe in mind, I assure you that these lights bring my surface up and make my place of this design.
The neighbor looks in first condescendingly and then twice with deep regard. I am not the person he assumed me to be. I am not tapping at his window. The connection between us is that at last I am assured that this tapping is not his handiwork. It is from a branch in the wind swinging on an invisible tree that is gently rapping at the window. It is keeping us up at night.
18.2.12
Water for the people and why we should know.
I am writing a list to detail a formula for diverting my nonsense from the annoyances of other people. I am also writing this list to refrain from annoying other people. The fear took me over and I had to look at that calming shade of facebook blue. That is an addictive colour, and also why the pain goes away when I look at it. I suppose it is better than smoking. Why can’t I take the few pauses to listen to my muse and enjoy her? I cannot, because she is with her sister-wife. They are taking care of children.
She is a caring, wonderful and beautiful person. What a great job she has done, and all the while knowing the pain of fearing the universe and that silent grace that is within every person. I know there is a gracious tome to describe her that is as yet unwritten. Water is the only purpose for those little dreams. Ghosts play their games and know that those meddling kids reign inside. It is possible that these little soldiers bring their homes to us. It could be why we hate them.
One day a fancy man dressed in fancy clothes will call me, and turbulent times will await their delay. Once I quit the fancy chemicals, there was a clear pause in the trial. We were made to be happiness. Sure, we had little demi-gods to look for, but the window sill was secretly clear. She wrote measures made for little pills, that demon. She woke in the morning clear as day, no worry nor clear conciseness, she was tired but was going to be able to sleep a long night of happy dreams before she had to wake in the world that circumstance made her.
For now she can be assured that her home is wonderful and warm, that there is food there and at the place she is now and that she is loved by a man who sits typing like no other kind of being. That made her feel good.
It was possible that the person the typing man was asked to search for was a racing dragon, headed south through the cold night of the desert trying to cross the border like a paragon, being chased by border patrol and the FBI, hopelessly treaded on by water (or chemicals) and doomed beyond repair because of the silence dripping from his limited and shapeless motives. It was circumstances fault, we repaid no glory nor servitude. The country was at war and their borders must be protected. It is the same in the Great White North.
There are people everywhere trying to find us. And I am not a writer, nor a spy: because I can only simplify things by relating all information I have over the decades long transmitter, perhaps wondering for their little trace that all the dreams and lights are beyond their little dragons fighting the wind for all the shapes they have lifted. What did I have for it? Nothing. Not a cent, and another half of my life incarcerated. I was cool by breaking the law in two jurisdictions, but as I was caught it didn't feel right.
It made me believe that it is best to grow intellectually to rise against a power oppressing you, so that by speaking you can create positive change instead of giving the oppressors a chance to control me further because I was trying to take their empire piece by piece. I know because I am the law of myself, and I know from past experience that it may be best to do what those people holding all the guns say. It is possible to still live a fruitful and revolutionary life, but maybe we should work with the system already in place, that way we do not have to take all that time to create a new system.
It is only this way because we comply. Without that, they cannot hold us.
I am writing a list to detail a formula for diverting my nonsense from the annoyances of other people. I am also writing this list to refrain from annoying other people. The fear took me over and I had to look at that calming shade of facebook blue. That is an addictive colour, and also why the pain goes away when I look at it. I suppose it is better than smoking. Why can’t I take the few pauses to listen to my muse and enjoy her? I cannot, because she is with her sister-wife. They are taking care of children.
She is a caring, wonderful and beautiful person. What a great job she has done, and all the while knowing the pain of fearing the universe and that silent grace that is within every person. I know there is a gracious tome to describe her that is as yet unwritten. Water is the only purpose for those little dreams. Ghosts play their games and know that those meddling kids reign inside. It is possible that these little soldiers bring their homes to us. It could be why we hate them.
One day a fancy man dressed in fancy clothes will call me, and turbulent times will await their delay. Once I quit the fancy chemicals, there was a clear pause in the trial. We were made to be happiness. Sure, we had little demi-gods to look for, but the window sill was secretly clear. She wrote measures made for little pills, that demon. She woke in the morning clear as day, no worry nor clear conciseness, she was tired but was going to be able to sleep a long night of happy dreams before she had to wake in the world that circumstance made her.
For now she can be assured that her home is wonderful and warm, that there is food there and at the place she is now and that she is loved by a man who sits typing like no other kind of being. That made her feel good.
It was possible that the person the typing man was asked to search for was a racing dragon, headed south through the cold night of the desert trying to cross the border like a paragon, being chased by border patrol and the FBI, hopelessly treaded on by water (or chemicals) and doomed beyond repair because of the silence dripping from his limited and shapeless motives. It was circumstances fault, we repaid no glory nor servitude. The country was at war and their borders must be protected. It is the same in the Great White North.
There are people everywhere trying to find us. And I am not a writer, nor a spy: because I can only simplify things by relating all information I have over the decades long transmitter, perhaps wondering for their little trace that all the dreams and lights are beyond their little dragons fighting the wind for all the shapes they have lifted. What did I have for it? Nothing. Not a cent, and another half of my life incarcerated. I was cool by breaking the law in two jurisdictions, but as I was caught it didn't feel right.
It made me believe that it is best to grow intellectually to rise against a power oppressing you, so that by speaking you can create positive change instead of giving the oppressors a chance to control me further because I was trying to take their empire piece by piece. I know because I am the law of myself, and I know from past experience that it may be best to do what those people holding all the guns say. It is possible to still live a fruitful and revolutionary life, but maybe we should work with the system already in place, that way we do not have to take all that time to create a new system.
It is only this way because we comply. Without that, they cannot hold us.
north/south divide (grievances)
To write, and only to fill a void on the internet.
There needs to be constant supervision or nothing will ever be right. The details I once left must be buried on my site. That is the only was to secure enough proof of rapscallionism to settle the dreams I had before once and for all. Sometimes there is a good sister, made for me. I hope there belongs a great leader, teacher and mother in me. The good will of cloning is made ever the more chaotic by the fearless teachers of those Bristol community colleges. But these days I know nothing of Bristol. I only know of Summerland.
Perdition is a place just outside that gated community. The high clay walls block their foodstuffs and presume all the outsiders must be leveled and gained. Primarily I was awoken to this procedure before I turned the age 12. Before then I knew little else, but I wondered if somewhere I lay in a warehouse resting on vast acres of childhood imagination, alone with my thoughts and at peace with the world. This was quite how I would have enjoyed myself aging.
This detail has been left out, due to apple cider vinegar dripping from my tongue. These romances do not describe their people, nor the lost man of Summerland for whom this book is written. Peaceful resolution is a case in point. There have been many lost souls traveling this 300 000 mile north/south divide. The cactus tends to stick to my shoes in the summer. Perhaps that is why I left the woods. Somewhere I will live in harmony with myself and nature.
There needs to be constant supervision or nothing will ever be right. The details I once left must be buried on my site. That is the only was to secure enough proof of rapscallionism to settle the dreams I had before once and for all. Sometimes there is a good sister, made for me. I hope there belongs a great leader, teacher and mother in me. The good will of cloning is made ever the more chaotic by the fearless teachers of those Bristol community colleges. But these days I know nothing of Bristol. I only know of Summerland.
Perdition is a place just outside that gated community. The high clay walls block their foodstuffs and presume all the outsiders must be leveled and gained. Primarily I was awoken to this procedure before I turned the age 12. Before then I knew little else, but I wondered if somewhere I lay in a warehouse resting on vast acres of childhood imagination, alone with my thoughts and at peace with the world. This was quite how I would have enjoyed myself aging.
This detail has been left out, due to apple cider vinegar dripping from my tongue. These romances do not describe their people, nor the lost man of Summerland for whom this book is written. Peaceful resolution is a case in point. There have been many lost souls traveling this 300 000 mile north/south divide. The cactus tends to stick to my shoes in the summer. Perhaps that is why I left the woods. Somewhere I will live in harmony with myself and nature.
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