The cruelty. That is what is destroying my soul. The cruelty. The clincher for me that COVID was a psychological operation was when they cancelled March Madness. The students were so excited about the tournament. The ETSU (East Tennessee State University) Bucs finished their best season in decades, perhaps ever, and the news simply announced that the tournament was over. They attacked the young people first. I saw the meanness in that and knew intuitively that this was Satan’s work. The cruelty has abounded since then.
It is more than simply destroying humanity or turning us into robots or reducing the population; it is the excessive amount of cruelty by which it is done that destroys my hope. Oh I weep. God, how I weep. Why? If there is a God, why? I remember as a kid being taught by another kid a few years older than me how to make ants fight to the death. I did it once. The same kid liked to take a magnifying glass and fry them in the sun. What made this fun? He was just a kid. So was I. I think on that and realize that we are nothing more in the minds of our conquerors. We are but ants to them.
I can’t fight this anymore. I have lost all hope. I will be judged for that if there is a judge. Judged for giving up—for abandoning hope. I doubt now that there is a righteous judge. I am thinking that the universe, existence itself, is a cruel joke run by evil. Sometimes I hold out hope that there is Good beyond it, but I am losing that hope daily.
My heroes, my friends, my “conspiracy theorist” pals who take the abuse each day for posting what they see happening to us, keep at it through varying degrees of personal despair. If we can just post the right meme. If we can just dismantle one lie in the delusion. If we can make people see some of the falsehood, even just a little bit, people will awaken. We keep at it. Meanwhile, people cannot awaken because they cannot believe that such cruelty exists. They cannot imagine that those they have been conditioned to trust are so evil. So cruel. The longer it goes on, the more people fear, and the more they trust their authorities, and the more they hate those who challenge that illusion of security provided by these authorities.
In all the movies (ie. Matrix, The Hunger Games), the good people win. But who made the movies? The evil Satanists made the movies. All of this is a movie. It is their movie. They are playing us even through that. They are so far ahead of us, like the consciousness of a human vs. the consciousness of an ant, that even hope, even God in every religion and the Good in every philosophy and practice, is their creation. It is cruelty all the way up and all the way down. Even Goodness is an illusion. There is no pure heart. We are all made in Cruelty’s image. It isn’t that Evil is a distortion of Good, but Good is a distortion of Evil. Not a distortion, really, just a cipher, a rube, a program, in the cruel, sick game.
Is that blasphemy? Am I saying too much? Is there anything worthy of hope? Do I have it wrong?
My friends are fighting. They are warriors. They are not giving up. They fight in the belief that Good can defeat this Evil before total enslavement. The last thing I want to do is to discourage that spirit. That fight is the last remnant of our soul. But I have to ask if we are doing anything more than playing their game?
Maybe. Maybe we are doing something. The USS Liberty did not sink. Israel and the Traitor in Chief, LBJ, tried their best to sink the USS Liberty on June 8th, 1967, but the last torpedo fired that should have sunk it hit a beam in the ship and did not break it in two. The USS Liberty did not sink and its survivors tell her story to this day. That is a sign of hope for me. If Divine Intervention, the Good, saved the Liberty, was it saved for nothing? I meditate on that and I hope yet.
In October 2018, I learned the story of Imam Hussain (as), Hussain Ibn Ali, and his courageous stand against Yazid. I don’t know how that all worked out that I would visit his shrine in Karbala, Iraq. I don’t know what it means that the moment I was about to touch the shrine and I couldn’t reach it, to be assisted, to have my hand pushed against the grate and to look into the eyes of the person who did it. I don’t know what that means. I just know it happened and I felt a summons to speak what I thought was true. Was it a Divine sign? Maybe I am just being played. But I hope yet.
Hope is thin. So thin it rests on a razor’s edge. Hope is so thin that I lose it in the fog. Cruelty is thick. It is a dense fog that covers all. It grows thicker each day. We have no time left. The Cruel plan is unfolding faster and faster. It won’t be long, a few months, a few years on the outside before we are all transformed into an artificial existence. Our humanity is being stripped away from us. It has begun with the masking, the walking in rows, the distancing, the isolating, the destruction of our societies, divide and conquer, but more than that, the inability of the many to see what is happening before their eyes.
How can others not see what I see? It is so difficult to fathom that everyone from former church members to family members to the most aware people I thought I knew not to see that this is all terribly, terribly wrong. Such is the deception. Such is the cruelty. Such is the thickness of illusion. We are under a spell. Can it be broken?
I don’t know. In this thick fog, I still clutch the thin hope that if I can tell my truth at all, then it is not over. Not yet.
We are human.
We are not sick.
We are not diseased.
We are not contagious.
We are being deceived.