Dispatches from the Dab Junkie: Part 5

The Lost Patrol.

Taking the long way home , trying to justify the added time. We have to make it, get over and focus on the future. We are so in the now that we miss the more subtle important races. The long view of the sacrificial spy caught in a spider like web. You have to stay mutable and be able to adapt. One has to become the psycho pulling the trigger over and over with no remorse to even have a chance at survival. Oh happy day when conspiracy becomes the nation’s true language of control. When we are watched because we might do something. When governments and corporations work hand in glove to manipulate us to their wishes. Believe the lies they say to believe , Fear has been known to be a great motivator. They keep the truth that would hurt their cause from ever reaching the light. Thus they control , with a lot of stage-craft and misdirection. Oh the (They) that everyone is always worrying about. Those guys with their Bohemian Grove cufflinks on setting policy over cocktails. Good times pulling the wool over most of our eyes. So I say don’t fire til you see the whites of their eyes, these vampires you can’t kill with kindness.

Why get really deep here ? I guess that’s why you take the long way home, or avoid it.

Winter is coming . All of the anti-Christs running amok pointing the dirty end of the stick at everybody. As W.C. Fields used to say” anything worth having is worth cheating for. “ The ends justify the means. And do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. To take it further back to Sun Tzu “Resolved to die, one can be killed. Resolved to live, one can be captured. Quick to anger, one can be goaded. Pure and honest, one can be shamed. Loving the people, one can become aggravated .” These are all virtues to be manipulated and that is what you have so much of today manipulated virtues , good people letting bad things happen. More good times to be had for future generations. More trickle down fun from the haves and the have mores. Those barbarous bastards can’t stoop low enough. Their shepherd is leading them straight to hell in a frenzy laughing all the way.

The longest last bit , that final accurst mile, the one that almost breaks you. The lotus-eaters are chasing you smacking you with all their scented leaves. Whatever you do , do not get Rip van Winkled and grow Duck Dynasty beards. The time is now to be. All that Dead Poet’s Society wonk and nosh. Steal the day and go hard.

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