Moveable Feast Cafe 2018/04/27 … Open Thread

Not your average household cleaner: Russian town plans new ‘Novichok’ brand of products
https://www.rt.com/politics/425312-russian-town-novichok-patent/
(“keep rubbing it in”)

More likely than not, it will be a two-some in May: Ukraine and Syria/ Iran

https://news.antiwar.com/2018/04/26/israeli-war-with-iran-increasingly-likely-mattis-warns/

The Mountain Jews
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_jt5tXnFQk
(A Russia Today documentary)

Hi. Six or seven cafes ago my back got much worse, so I could not get to the internet at club or library until now. Finally, the muscles have gotten over their spasms, and have begun to heal and get stronger. The back is still sore, and I’ve got to be very cautious by supporting the back and holding onto supports with my hands (like this vineyard on a different level). I’ve got a walker now for that purpose. I was able for the first time this year to ride the trolley into town.

I’ve been out of the loop as far as public events go, but my “back attack” has brought many blessings to the Love Army’s love and war games. With my body out of play, I’ve had plenty of time to think “love,” the first division charge of the Love Army, whether I feel it or not. I don’t know what’s in store but my priority is healing the back, and all those shadowy things “back there.”

To further complicate matters, two county code enforcers and two police officers showed up and told me I was living here illegally. I don’t know when but I may eventually be evicted so I’ve got to make alternative plans.

Fortunately, you and the vineyard stand guard for Russia. I do what I can. I’ll post a couple of Theology ACTS I wrote on a word processor, a sort of “leap of faith” on my part. At this point in my cafe catch-up phase, I noticed that China Cheerleaders, like Ramin, Jeff Brown, Lpac and Pepe are still acting like adolescent, starry eyed, cult groupies. Whether they are being paid off in some way by ZioSino agents, drugged or blue-pilled, or have fallen under their spell surreptitiously, I can’t say. That’s judgmental but how else can I say it and be truthful?

I was also put off by the fake war over Syria, testing the new weapons and defenses to generate war profits. Sure looks to me like all the actors on the world stage, including Putin, Trump and Xi, the big three, are getting the same script to read from; in other words, this phony facade of news is orchestrated from the same top-down power source in the game of top gun and super dog. The bosses don’t even need real wars anymore; actors and animated images get the same results at a much lower cost.

Speaking of new weapons, I note an inordinate amount of attention given to block chains, or stock drains, or whatever they’re called. It’s so obvious to me that this movement is just another version of the “chain gang” song, or is it “working on the railroad” for obor, or “sixteen tons” of “workingman blues” forever. How a stalwart investigator like Bro can’t see the obvious scam is beyond me; maybe his star chart was hit by an asteroid from Bitcoin Void.

It’s strange to say, but war has changed in a fundamental way. Most wars are fake now, made up on computer screens; shattered to bits like glass, into shards of disease, toxic food, domestic violence, meaningless, depression, drugs, stupifying entertainment, moronic media, frenetic addictions, fearful adjustment, happy pretensions, and yes, bitcoins and on and on. Our standard for the good life has put the bar so low a snake can’t crawl under it. We should shoot for the moon; if we miss, we will hit a star.

Russia has won the war in one way and lost it in another. The rulers softened her up with the big, hard wars and now have engineered the comfortable soft war of a new uni-polar world, posing as multi-polar; virtue signaling is the new politically correct slogan. Nothing illustrates this better than the kind and generous Chinese Communists, magically morphed from history’s biggest murder machine to a “Deus ex machina” solution to all our problems. I’m told that Mao studied at Yale or one of those skull and bones places; traces of which are now erased in the new version of a Hollywood Chinese Holy Land.

In Occam’s Razer style, for simplicity’s sake, I boil the whole mess down to one protagonist and one antagonist: Lord Leary and Count Khazar; a projection of my angelic and devilish self. To avoid the charge of solipsism, I add the amendment that every one of us has a similar dynamic of outward projection from inner injection of perfection or perdition.

A similar pattern obtains on large societal scales, like Russia, which as I said, has already lost the war, while also stopping it, by playing the enemy to the Best in the West. With Napoleon and Hitler, Count Khazar put Russia in a defensive mood forever, and now has demolished its trust in “partners,” in other words, made Russia solipsistic, rigid and militaristic.

Such a state is unstable in the solvent acidity of the new immorality of boundary free pleasure and pain. Sooner or later, the chemistry will reach its tipping point, and the old Russia will be no more. No one, other than Count Khazar and Lord Leary, will know how the petri dish went so quickly from red to blue, in the litmus test of truth. The Count will figure it was his connections to the men in black, while Lord will have the Love Army at his back. (How well Dennis knows the lack of a well-supported back when under attack).

A common mistake is to blame the elites for our troubles. There would be no elite at the top of the pyramid if there were no Stockholm Sycophants at their feet in the mid and bottom rungs to support the ponzi penis pillar of patriarchy. The only way to see what’s going down is through the lenses of the Love Government’s Ten Commandments of Love; otherwise we’re stuck with limp love, when what we need is tough love.

Without a back bone, we will always back down when we’re challenged on our home court. The architectural skeleton has ten major bones of contention:

1. An ideology of love, rather than some chicken shoot power.
2. A love food diet, rather than the meat of slaughtered animals.
3. A love for free animals, rather than pets who make us pets of empire.
4. A communal love and sex marriage, rather drowning couplets.
5. Gift money, rather than usurious stocks and block chains.
6. Love endorphins, rather than dope, drugs and upper-downers.
7. Love born life, rather than abortions of inspiration.
8. Love motivated conceptions, rather than contraceptions.
9. Constitutions of character, rather than prostitutional charicatures.
10. Loverography, rather than pornography and ponerography.

Since brevity is the soul of wit, the Love Army has encapsulated these broad principles into its ten divisions; and since drama is everyone’s karma, love is the “Greatest Story Ever Untold.”

With Russia out of the way, the mother of all wars will come into play: the Love Army versus the Evol Army; “Love/Evol” being inversions of each other–Lovelution and Evolution. True love will expose the pseudo-love of romance, sentiment and merriment by the advance of the Love Army’s Ten Commandments of Love: regarding thought, food, animals, sex, money, drugs, abortion, contraception, prostitution and pornography; in its positive and negative engagements, and subtle, hidden arrangements. Romance, sentiment and merriment will be transplanted from its soil of foolishness into the good earth of joyfulness.

The Love Bower will open its doors to the perceptive and receptive, and “communal sex” will put the scoffers to shame when it names names, and proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is the fountain of youth and mountain of truth. The Cafe archives will furnish abundant material for a new Shakespearean trove of comedy, history and tragedy. But I exceed my commission; and must get back on track without backing off from the point of attack. For a more sober balance, I will post a couple more “boring/boring through the gates of hell” Theological Acts.

We’d like to believe the world is being run by some invisible hand of group dynamics, and if it is, that large group of anonymous silent majority is usuns, as previously noted; but primarily this tall tale is packaged and sold by the managers of the mind to take the spotlight off themselves. Nearest to the top are the best and the brightest, but at the very pinnacle of power sits one man at a time, from the old blood-money line, in the old game of “king of the mountain.” At present Count Khazar rules the roost of chicken-hawks in his coop; that’s not his real name, which can’t be pronounced except by priests on rare festive celebrations when the money is counted.

Well, anyway I’m back for the time being, until the next back attack, or worse, heart attack from empire hit men. Count Khazar suspects his time is up and someone is coming for him, but he doesn’t know it’s Lord Leary (not Dennis Leary) and his vanguard, volunteer, vineyard Love Army. Don’t tell him and give away the game before its time, or we will lose the advantage of surprise.

Love, Dennis

Armchair Cafe Theology (ACT) Part 27

Years ago a premier magazine created a stir with its cover: “God Is Dead.” The governors of the world wanted to kill one God and raise another: they drove a nail into the coffin of the God of the Believers, and rolled back the grave stone for the God of the Non-Believers; so they could play one side against the other, and in the clamoring, take the heat off themselves. Predictably, it set off a war of words between religionists and secularists.

The real God of this world, Count Khazar (and his tribe) sneak around like arsonists, setting fires everywhere that will attract attention and create fear. A fearful populace has no time to think, much less think twice; ditto for dissolute and stoned zombies who have have been smitten, and bittten the zio-sino bait, hook, line and sinker. Fortunately, Count Khazar and his army of arsonists have met their match, although they don’t know it yet, with the arrival of Lover Lodge and its army of amorists.

Armageddon has run up against Amorgeddon, like the tale of the battleship in fog, with a faulty radar, heading straight for a lighthouse, demanding the supposed ship change course or be rammed. The empire’s mobilized project meets the immovable object; the maw of the beast chokes on an immovable feast. Theology, in its succinct scripture, says: “Love casts out fear.” Love makes the world go ‘round; fear would put love in the ground, six feet deep, but it lacks that kind of power which only love has.

God is far from dead, but would it not be better to throw God out with the holy water, like the baby with the bath water? No, no, no. That’s what the Bolsheviks tried, and proved God was dead–from space where God could not be found. Later, the same Bosses behind the Bolsheviks, trained the Maoists to throw Confucius and Lao-tzu with their I Chings under the bus to make way for the obor orb train of steely rails. With God and Man out of the way, nothing stood in their way, not even Russia which was long ago brought under imperial sway by a back door banking way, after the feints by Napoleon and Hitler.

“Go ahead, make my day,” said a steely eyed Man of the West, an empire hero made in Hollywood, the acme of fake manhood, for an increasingly fake world. What need is there for real wars anymore, when you can create them with actors and computer graphics, a thousand times cheaper, with far greater results in dumbed-down and drugged-up tax-payers and drone soldiers? Count Khazar laughs his way to the bank; the bank graphs his assets and opens wide its spread-sheets for him, and lets him cherry pick what he will.

The sacred and secular God is the lynchpin of the whole lynching class system. Its authority in spades is laid out in step pyramid grades. God is most powerful in his absence, because absence make the heart grow fonder, especially when we flounder in our own permissive indulgence. We long for an absolute center that holds us safe, like the mothers of the love culture used to do when we were babies in the bower; but we do our best to deny it.

The Prodigal Son is a chip off the old block of a prodigal father, the one who left the mother to go hunting with the boys, and left the joys of a lover for the toys of a luster and hustler of patrix power. The Prodigal Father finds himself on a dung hill of lucre, eating husks with the hogs, and realizes he’d better return to his son and his mother before heaven closes its gates for a very long night.

In all my years as an altar boy, acolyte, deacon, monk and priest, I found Father God rather distant and aloof, sexless and restless; but I thought the lack of real relating was my fault, which I tried to rectify by becoming Father Dennis. Now I see it was a trinity with their gates shut: father, mother and son, under the shadow of Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and both trinities just couldn’t get it on with sex–certainly not all the way.

Looking at the world now in the broad sunlight of 78 years and counting, I guesstimate God is at an impasse, in danger of being cut off at the pass of relevancy. As a dutiful son, I cannot let this come to pass, or the world will pass the point of no return on its lemming march to the cliff of catastrophe, short circuiting itself to electrocution. Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all; better to have given all than to endure the final, fatal fall, in a second “fall of man.”

God is, after all, “The Man.” The Fathers of the Church, in their long hours and late nights of finalizing the doctrine of the Incarnation and “homoousios”-“homousios” hair-splitting, nail-biting dilemma of God and Man, called it a day and went on their way, “into the mystic” with Van and Jim Morrison, like kings and pawns into the same box.

In the meantime, The Lover waits for her erstwhile LoverMan to return from across the barren fields, dropping toys of the boys, retrieving adulthood joys, with a sparkle in his eye and lilt in his voice, acting like the Father he once was, a lover among lovers, in the communal sex bower, and Greatest Of Defenders (GOD) in the vanguard of the Love Army. Oh, happy day, when God reenters the fray, this time on the side of love rather than power, to protect the bower of the earth, and to restore its long neglected worth.

All this and more, remains to be manly renewed with the rediscovered “theology of love,” as She’sus Jesus foretold: “All these things that I do, you shall do too, and even greater. Man is to have joy, and to have it more abundantly, when he remembers that Womam is his Joy, and the melding of his love waters with hers is the Spirit’s-spirits whom I will send you in the intoxicating intensity of clarity and charity.”

Love, Dennis

Wait and see.

I’m a melancholy man, that’s what I am
All the world surrounds me, and my feet are on the ground
I’m a very lonely man, doing what I can
All the world astounds me and I think I understand
That we’re going to keep growing, wait and see

When all the stars are falling down Into the sea and on the ground
And angry voices carry on the wind
A beam of light will fill your head And you’ll remember what’s been said
By all the good men this world’s ever known
Another man is what you’ll see Who looks like you and looks like me
And yet somehow he will not feel the same
His life caught up in misery, he doesn’t think like you and me
‘Cause he can’t see what you and I can see
When all the stars are falling down Into the sea and on the ground
And angry voices carry on the wind
A beam of light will fill your head And you’ll remember what’s been said
By all the good men this world’s ever known
Another man is what you’ll see Who looks like you and looks like me
And yet somehow he will not feel the same
His life caught up in misery, he doesn’t think like you and me
‘Cause he can’t see what you and I can see

I’m a melancholy man, that’s what I am
All the world surrounds me, and my feet are on the ground
I’m a very lonely man, doing what I can
All the world astounds me and I think I understand
That we’re going to keep growing, wait and see

When all the stars are falling down Into the sea and on the ground
And angry voices carry on the wind
A beam of light will fill your head And you’ll remember what’s been said
By all the good men this world’s ever known
Another man is what you’ll see Who looks like you and looks like me
And yet somehow he will not feel the same
His life caught up in misery, he doesn’t think like you and me

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66KMiXcOjPU

Kent

Well??

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8RhZDGLEXM

Kent

Should anyone feel like a lighthearted few minutes, here you go:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPvl6kpjivs

Zhirinovsky commenting on video of Trump brushing down Macron “Look at him, he’s like a big cat playing with a mouse” Very apposite!!

The real international community meets in Yalta – without the neocon thought police

https://www.rt.com/op-ed/425471-neocons-yalta-crimea-economy/

“Around 600 participants from 71 countries met in Crimea at the 4th Yalta International Economic Forum to discuss global co-operation and the building of a better world.

This was the real ‘international community,’ as opposed to the pretend one restricted to just the US and its closest allies.

In February 1945, Churchill, Roosevelt, and Stalin, the so-called ‘Big Three,’ met in Yalta to plan for the post-war world. In April 2018, the world faces the threat of war again – not from goose-stepping Nazis – but from similarly Russophobic neocon hawks who seem hell-bent on total global domination.

The imperialist agenda has been thwarted in Syria, where regime-change plans have been blocked, hence a ratcheting up of Cold War 2.0 tensions with Russia from Washington and London. But at the YIEF, one could see the strength of resistance to the serial warmongers.

Journalists and other public figures in Britain today who don’t go along with Russophobia face attacks from truly repulsive gatekeepers. Even university academics are under threat for daring to question the War Party line. At least in Crimea, we didn’t have to worry about the witch-hunters.”

Half of uk 5 year olds cannot use sufficient simple words and phrases to interact with others and teachers….this is how bad it is now…so
“Today Mr Hinds is launching a £5 million pilot scheme in the North of England to help parents teach their children vocabulary at home through reading and singing nursery rhymes. It will be run by the Education Endowment Foundation (EEF) and will provide workshops in nurseries, community centres and homes. The projects found to be most effective could later be rolled out across the country.

In addition, £8.5 million has been made available to councils across the country for language and literacy development projects for disadvantaged children.”

Flaming heck…how to teach people to be decent parents……

Japan Wants Cryptocurrency Exchanges to De-List Anonymous Altcoins: Report

“Japan’s Financial Services Agency (FSA) is pressuring local cryptocurrency exchanges to de-list privacy-centric altcoins such as Monero, Zcash, and Dash.

[…]

Japan’s licensed cryptocurrency exchanges recently formed a self-regulatory body that will have enforcement power over its members. Among other things, the organization may curate a whitelist of cryptocurrencies that exchanges are allowed to list, which would provide the FSA with an easy avenue to pressure exchanges to de-list cryptoassets of which it does not approve without having to codify the prohibition into official policy.”

Apr 30 at 8:48 AM
Paul Joseph Watson Retweeted
Instant Reporter‏ @InstantReporter 26m26 minutes ago

BREAKING: Parts of Israeli airspace has now been closed for civilian aircrafts. Israeli gov could give green light for massive airstrikes in #Syria & even in #Iran. PM #Netanyahu is going to give a speech tonight after intelligence uncovered a new secret nuclear program in #Iran.

Let’s keep our wits about us these days…. Pompeo and Head of Centcom met this weekend with Bibi-Boy in Israel.