There is nothing to be ashamed of in talking about it, as perverse and/or societally anomalous as the action can very well be in descriptive public discussion. Slathered in circumspect mention for the unleveraged unprying eyes of the conservatively minded unwilling to forego the private parts of life quite often held behind closed doors in intimate partner fashion, though even so occasionally, all too often one is left in solitude to strictly grasp it alone. For some the temporal counting of one’s linear means of which may account, if unceremoniously interrupted, in a possible very messy untimely ending ultimately left for someone else to clean up in life absorbing fashion.

The release of DEATH. C’mon, what the heck did you think I was talking about people? Get that filthy mind out of your overflowing gutter. And tear down your leave guard while you are at it won’t you. We all gotta go sometime. Question is – benevolent evaporation, terrestrial spillage, or malevolent downspout interment? And about those awaiting 72 virgins; well, add your curious, scrupulous, and cynical pondering here: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _…….That sure would be something if the 72 virgins turned out to be 6 year old boys. If such were the case European “royalty” would have a 100% conversion rate in the course of 24 hours!

Gee, a week sure goes by quickly these days. Perhaps it has something to do with all of that government caused inflation. No? Certainly an ill time to be living in. Could it be the accumulation of political hot air has concentrated in the Northern Hemisphere to such a degree causing the resurrected Axis of Evil to speed up the earths rotational mass of delusion securely into the untimely future. Plausibly? Time to midnight on that Globalist clock. Hypothetically the heightening running of the banks has created a space-bank time continuum anomaly, warping the moral fabric of the societal cloak of daggers thereby piercing the false façade. Maybe? To spring to a head quicker the clocks were recently turned forwards were they not? One, two, three – World War Three. ✝️ + ✡️ + ☪️ + 🕉 – ❤️ ÷ 🧠 = ☠️!

Time for a helping of death in our smorgasbord of life. Dessert first may fill one up with pudding for life. Put away your pervicacious anemic appetite hungering to regurgitate the ceasing expanse of the soul reasoning for metaphysical activity. Let us whip those chains and asphyxiate the carnal shortcomings binding us from a true elevated transcendental existence of heightened pleasurable experience fulfilling a universal melding. We are all going to do it, surely it is best to do it well. The future depends on it. Anybody in need of choosing a safe word must surely be beholden to: coward.

Who are we and what is it all about? Seeking the precious chalice or stumbling upon the lowly trough? Nurturing in cognitive nature, Teutonic physical folklore be damned; measurably the Holy Grail is a learned state of mind not a vessel of insignificant offerings consumed forthwith, in doing so bestowing understanding and enlightenment. Surely there is no path to immediate redemption, nor reward for undue under-construction of the psyche leading to a penchant of the corrupting of others affairs. Become one and all truly matters not, become all and one matches all matters truly, become nothing and one and all truly exist not. Intelligence does it not – actions are the be all and end all of it all.

Do worry, this is only a test. Life that is. To see what one is made of. You know, those building blocks opposite of osseous, sinewy, gooey, vascular foundational physical make up. The pinnacle is standing up in life to see where one will be eventually seated in meshing metaphysical continuance. Participatingly incorruptible so to speak of others coming to be in existential completeness. The paths have been dimensionally strung in preordination. Understanding the gravity of our situation and direction of positive energy into the correct channels of true societal benefit. Find the way and the proper choice is always there to elevate one’s existence and humanity in the making of such. Become lost and life exemplifies the needed following, especially in the power of the apparatus of state. In the end it will be known.

Dying. Squander it not. The need to want it should not be overlooked, though surely the need to avoid it will spell catastrophe in capital fashion. In preparation for finding it, philosophical reasoning will accrue in disseminating the meanings. Though beware the fool who truly cares not if they do for the reason of nothing to come of it nor the possibility of an existence of a higher power. A true mind slave. Become nothing and one and all truly exist not. They have sealed their own fates out of ignorance. True servants, fodder for the continuance of ignorance by hand of the state and ultimately latched upon the tentacles of inky representational oppression. There will never be a truly free state until a free state of minds harbours the notion in abundant elevated fashion.

Absorbing the soul. Perhaps a possibility. For those in tune with a universal existence to receive from those who had attained it themselves before their calling card of acceptance, and how they faced it so. That would be a feat. Ancestral worship, it has been known to happen, for millennia. Carrying a tradition for the load bearers to bring forth, giving humanity a chance. Though who will listen? Life is preordained, what representational channels will be received and projected forth? That universal spirit world, seemingly all to uncommon in the noisome noise of navigational misrepresentation taking society for a ride in all too many domains. The right choice is always there, hidden in plain sight though camouflaged in complex transparency. One chooses it not, it has to be taken once the threshold has accumulated. The path. Preordination.

Death, it should be appreciated, for the power it can give. All one has to do is live it, the goodness of those that have given, take their positive traits and let them live on, or to amplify one’s already given necessity. Grieving is natural and acceptable, though let it linger not, as those who have gone would expect it not. March forth with exemplary conduct, make one’s ancestors proud, the worthy anyways  – as for the others, show them what it is like to truly live with magnanimous projection. The universal absorption will listen to such a calling. Make the connection. The tipping point could surely be achieved in infinite replenishing understanding.

Unquestionably there is something to all of this thing called life, death included. Preordained. Once the connection is made and the necessary outputs are projected within the realm of decency the need to search transmutes to include that of being part of the life affirming transmission. Certainly it can be said that to stand up to headlong societal ignorance, play no part in debauchery of the wandering and deceived spirit, thus enthusiastically fight back against the overbearing corrupt soul destroying misery brought forth by the unjust juggernaut of sleaze and despair under the ills of empire and all the trickle down ooze in the form of supporting governments of moral prostitution who from within sleazily stain the minds, therefore the spirit of the masses under the guise of benevolent altruistic necessity.

Even before this website, CR was faced with such ignorance personified in the peers of surrounding that to do or say nothing to remedy against the conglomeration of feces wallowing primates would certainly be a fate worse than death. It was/is time to fuck back. Silence is golden only in meditative contemplation, then comes the time for observational bellowing. Being alive one will know they are – the infected parasites come a slithering from their noncognizant Throne Troll pudding minded cave dwelling replete with abject nothingness, looking to slip through the hauberk of accompanying armour and bring the one of question physically to the mental existence they so dwell – a room temperature nothingness void of even a single worthy electrical synapse of registry. Logic lacking, wisdom wiped they “live.”

Years ago I named my sole proprietor carpentry business Freelance Enterprise. For those unaware of the meaning of the word freelance, it originates from medieval times and stems from that of being a knight under the service of a baron, lord, king or other nobility title. Basically a knight was known as a lance, and said lance would sign a tenure with aforementioned member of the nobility. Once said contract had been fulfilled the lance was then deemed to be a free lance and was granted freedom to shop his services around, hopefully to higher bidders.

Anyone to have read my previous writings surely understands that this “author” most definitively serves the nobility (Globalist triumvirate) not, and quite in fact fights against the sickness they project into/onto the world. No, my lifelong contract is rooted in self respect, integrity, dignity, hard work, moral compass, philosophical delving, and wielding a shield against Globalist flung poop amongst other things. So in short, being a productive member of society dishing out some heaping doses of anti-pudding digestive offerings for the mind, occasionally mixed with comedic sprinklings to the taste – depending upon that is.

Deathly speaking in unbroached matter of factness, let me speak of such in true reflective manner. After my mom died, I inherited the task of going through her belongings and distributing items to their rightful places in order to clean out her house for estate purposes. In doing so, there were half a dozen or so nonfiction books that found their way onto my bookshelf. One about neuroscience, due to it’s immediate appeal of content was read right away. The others found their space in shelved lingering.

One night around a year or so ago it was time to partake in some cosmic revelation. No micro reflection there. Well let’s just say that as I sat in studious contemplative dimensional universal analyses, out of the corner of my eye one of Mom’s books came to the forefront of my attention, luring me over, becoming the sole focus of the then and there. Safarini had drawn me in, and as I flipped through it to come across a poem about rhinoceros an old post card fell onto the floor.

Said postcard was from a motel in Northern British Columbia, and from the model years of the vehicles on the front of the photograph, certainly the post card can not be more than a few years after my coming into this world. Then I flipped it over to have a look at the back and to my astonishment what did I see – none other than a knight on horseback with a large C blazoned upon his shield. It was a sign, there have been a few. Preordained.

When Anne passed away, it was passed on, though it began before she left. There is no choosing it other than making enough enlightened universal choices along the way. Something the ignorant can not fathom. Blind for the fact of not being able to see past their distorted self delusion.