http://templeofreason.org http://zito.biz http://mplf.org http://ularts.net http://pushedpawn.org
Monday, January 22, 2007
The Devil's Apprentice, hell and high water podcast, Minister, Minister episode
http://templeofreason.org http://zito.biz http://mplf.org http://ularts.net http://pushedpawn.org
Monday, December 25, 2006
JUEGOS DE LOS NÚMEROS

Aquí en el infierno del vientre de la bestia me disculpo yo me rodeo y no tengo ninguna esperanza excepto lo que invento en quizás el delusion así que antes de que me muera saludarte. Mi existencia en esta futilidad la expresión sin setido de Dada, dentro de un paisaje surreal no tengo ninguna esperanza. Si eres mi amigo te diría que apreciara un cianuro si estuvo necesitado para eso sea cómo es serio soy.
Para mí nunca me entregué, pero soy un preso y nunca no me he ofrecido una muerte honorable como abuso y la tortura no requiere abuso físico. Pero quizás ahora soy un simplemente cierto envejecimiento Yanqui suave delusional que nunca experimentó vida (con demasiada hora en mi mano esta la opinión) y quién no tiene nada mejor hacer que conseguir un trabajo en McDonalds de probar yo puede trabajar difícilmente y un buen ciudadano. Por supuesto no tengo ningún diploma de la universidad, ni certificación, así que soy totalmente incompetente discutir a que la manera el viento sopla mientras que necesito un informe de noticias del tiempo. Pardon por favor mi mal español que cada cosa hizo me triste y grito Para cuál soy agradecido pues me me demuestra sigue siendo el ser humano. En la vida próxima si no ésta.
Camarada por siempre fiel XP Adios.
English version
I disagree for if we look to the history for examples we learn change comes very slowly. Regardless of the numbers in support, or the lacking of numbers in opposition. The political point is one of organization and ability for though Zapata was a great general and person Zapata betrayed like Jesus by his comrades and friends who built chapels and churches.
Here in the hell of the belly of the beast I apologize I am surrounded and do not have any hopes except those envented in perhaps delusion, so before I die I salute you. My existence in this futility the meaningless expression of Dada, within a surreal landscape I have no hope. If you are my friend I would tell you I would appreciate a cyanide capsule if it is needed for that is how serious I am.
For I never surrendered, but I am a prisoner and have never been offered an honorable death as abuse and torture does not require physical abuse. But perhaps now I am merely some aging delusional soft Yanqui who never experienced life (with too much time on my hand these say) and who has nothing better to do than to get a job at McDonalds to prove I can work hard and a good citizen. Of course I have no college diploma, nor certification, so I am completely unqualified to discuss which way the wind blows as I need a weather news report. Please pardon my bad Spanish every thing made me sad and cry. For which I am thankful as it shows me I am still human. In the next life if not this one
XP
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Prediction without dreaming: by Andrew Stergiou

Prediction without dreaming: Soon in great surprise, there will be a great massacre of many people, in a cycle of violence, trials, tribulations, and burdens, kings will not lessen those burdens, in fact will be ignorant of them, the king's men worsen those, and resolution will be impossibility.
Until the waters are spent and wasted, words to no prevail, for to that as lambs to the slaughter they have brought us, they shall be pissed on, and piss on themselves, they will wish they were never born, but will walk willfully into hell, without thought of confessing, their sins, nor asking forgiveness, as they do not know what they do but none the less will be judged, in trials and tribulations:
And still they will predict "A NEW AGE", of marvels and miracles, and other distractions, in lies, and even lie that it is all empty when it is not, and is not empty when it is empty.
For within they are empty, refusing to die death themselves, confessing nothing, for who speaks truly but I, besides my mirror image, moving as a shadow, with my every move.
I ask time and time again, for despair, joy, and sober emptiness is of no use, and my time is at an end, and you travel, on alone into cemeteries, without headstones, tombstones, nor empty graves.
Of vultures, rats, wild dogs, and worms and rotting civilization. They will wish I show them proofs, demanding, when they themselves see the signs, for they are empty, care not, are rabid, and shallow. Wishing to catch me, speaking in prophesies, and dreaming (when I do not and have never practiced majick) so as to find me guilty in my words alone, when I speak (as they claiming nothing, but what is known) as I am the child, and they are the great, high and mighty.