It did not take very long for me to find out.
The Freemasons vs The Federal reserve and CIA.
“Durer is my prophet. The more I observe the procession of the centuries, the more I am convinced that the one image capable of revealing its meaning is that of his Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The ages advance only by treading the hordes underfoot; the weak will die no less than the strong, and even these riders, save one. It is for him, for his terrible renown, that the ages have suffered and groaned. I see him looming on the horizon, already I detect our whimpers, I even hear our screams.And the night that will descend upon our bones will not bring peace, as it did to the Psalmist, but fear.” E M Cioran –History and Utopia —Learning from the Tyrants.
When ever I find out how things are, there is a bit of a let down. While everything is mysterious and nebulous my freedom to imagine is unhampered. As the situation clarifies, I fall from the dream back into the world. I awake yet again.
“May I at least carry, to the boundless possibility contained in the abyss of everything, the glory of my disillusion like that of a great dream, and the splendor of not believing like a banner of defeat; a banner in feeble hands, but still and all a banner, dragged through mud and the blood of the weak but raised high for who knows what reason – whether in defiance, or as a challenge, or in mere desperation – as we vanish into quicksand. No one knows for what reason, because no one knows anything, and the sand swallows those with banners as it swallows those without. And the sand covers everything: my life, my prose, my eternity. I carry my awareness of defeat like a banner of victory.” -Fernando Pessoa
“Only a monster can allow himself the luxury of seeing things as they are.” -E M Cioran
It was quite a ride, the Trump dream, but my special gift/curse lucidity has ruined everything again. I cannot stay asleep!
“He sadly resumes his path toward a desert that he knows is similar to the one he just crossed, escorted by the pale phantom they call Reason, who lights up the aridity of his path with a weak lantern, and who, when the thirst of passion comes back from time to time, quenches it with the poison of ennui.” -Charles Baudelaire