11:59 AM - PlanetQuo: Zionist Psyop
Current mood: enthralled
Category: Blogging

Wonderful description of the Zionist-funded psyops website, planetquo.net

by Hocus Locus
Location: Stuck in the elevator, in the elevator shaft; chopping through the wall to get out.

PostPosted: Mon Jun 11, 2007 1:53 am
Post subject: Re: Daryl Bradford Smith Exposed!

whippette wrote:
Here is the article, "Who are you Daryl Bradford Smith", that accompanies this video.
http://planetquo.net/WhoAreYou.htm

Wow!

Click on the above link at your own peril.
I did.

For me, clicking on that link to 'planetquo.net' was like... like... you're finally cleaning the apartment, see, and have somehow attained the level of ambition where you're not really going to move the couch but you will at least resolve to reach underneath and slap the wall with the broom in order to get the dust bunnies that cling to the wall. It would be easier to move the couch actually but you've already begun, this will just take a minute. Thump! Thump! Thump! Dust bunnies are a-gathering, you work your way to the middle when...

Then something grabs hold the broom! After a brief amazing struggle -- you let go, startled and the long handle completely, disappears! impossibly! -- under the couch! You're almost too afraid to look... you know you will have to look, and while you gather the nerve to look... it seems prudent to get up and grab a flashlight first. A heavy metal one.

Moving the couch or even lifting an end doesn't seem like a good idea at this point.

You kneel with the flashlight and -- TADA! Nothing there. Rather, icky couch bottom (I will not describe mine, just imagine your own) hanging with dust bunnies, the poor distended rows of dust bunnies flattened to the floor where you had thought you were sweeping, but actually just engaging in dust-bunny torture -- the unswept unfinished part where the bunnies are now gathering together to make a last stand... (or is it the nervous puffs of your breath?) but there is NO BROOM. No place for a broom to be, no broom to be there. And not enough distance to the wall to account for the broom handle disappearing in the direction it did. But you know that: it's why your heart is racing right now.

Just a floor and a wall. No one here but us bunnies!

So you do what only the stupidest ones in the movies do --- "We're going down into the basement." (No! Not the basement! Why the basement?) "Yes let's go into the basement." (Block the door open!) "Let's just leave the door to the basement open a bit to let light shine down the stairs." (Bring the flashlight at least not the candle!) "We choose the candle." (Figures, it's Evolution In Action time again) "Okay we're going down into the basement now with a flickering candle!" (SLAM!) -- you crawl underneath.

It's stupid really because now it really is time to move the couch, but you don't, just crawl in until your rump lifts it, now doesn't that look silly. And wouldn't you think... just around the moment you recall that you're not just looking for a broom, you're investigating how an irresistible force can grab hold of an object, firmly and tug it in an impossible direction to an unknown destination... yes... (Ha! You chose the candle after all) As the thing happens to you now, yes that thing, you say the dumb thing all the flight recorders say that the NTSB doesn't include in the transcript. Like an idiot you drop the flashlight as you try to grab something, anything... And foof.

But you have found the broom. Hello broom, we're both in trouble aren't we.

A fantastic place where words surround you.... and almost every other word is underlined It has something to do with Israel and Zionism that's fer absolute sure and every time your eyes traverse the scene the entire surrounditude of wordshapes shift, at the extents of your vision their movement is smearingly quick, a blur really. It makes you dizzy. "This is what web browsers must go through when wrapping text into those silly narrow columns. No wonder they have headaches...." But where your eye comes to rest you can make out a bit of context here, and there...

And you realize that there is little here about Zion. It's about people who are all about Zion, or roundabout Zion. Or unabout, people struggling to unbecome unassociated with some Zion thing or another, or what someone said or did to unprove something. What was unsaid and assumed to mean unsomething. Unreal.

It's all very confusing and there are so many links there's no telling time what to think. Your brain is flashing 12:00 12:00 12:00... so you unthink in order to see the unseen in a manner most unwordly.

And what you see first are screen prints. Behind a lot of the links. Of words! Usually it's the other way around, but the novelty is quite astonishing, with childlike fascination you wrap your brain around the idea of words that become embedded (like dust bunnies stretched thinly along the floor) into screen-prints. It's funny, like being surrounded by photographs of words that were taken at an untimely moment by a mischievous photographer, while their little letter-mouths were open. It can be gruesome with people, but its twice as funny when it happens to words! "What if... the screen-print contained embedded pictures of smaller images and they had words in them...?" Down boy, thar's madness that way! Unstay the course.

It's a relief to see people, flitting about the blurs of unwords unseen. Dirvishes of what resolve mainly into a person a She who looks friendly and is lovely to look upon and seems to like her long blonde hair (we do too) and eats Talmund which probably tastes better than paste and is safer than eating money but what's the deal. The presentation does not seem to be friendly towards her or maybe it's an unfriendly scene -- so you let it whirl away no matter how gladdening the heart the images may be, because gazing along angles you might disagree with is like eating them, and the flavor is a bit off, here in this swirling surround of surreptitious surreal.

And it resolves to words again, paradigm shift, ten cents please, keep your arms in the car, and links beckon but there is the terminus before you already, a spinning locus in this whirling spherical polar projection of backlit meme. It is a hoedown pulldown jump-link. "A pulldown Liszt!"

You pull it down, you jump, jumplist jumps. You are parking on one of the links (a 'Fetzer'?) but have already cleverly plotted your escape. Grab the broom -- yes! we still have hold of the broom! as the cyclonic world struggles to reorganize during the tumultuous period of jump-link selection... straddle the broom and twist, rising through the vortext with such inertial din that the blonde's hair lifts as you go by towards an impossibly small dot that is the only thing still in a universe of swirling movement--- bracing for you don't know what but it couldn't be something as unearthly dull as plain old impact...

But it is. Figures. Your head bumps the wooden frame of the couch so hard it flips onto its back.

Broom (ouch!) and you are in a most uncomfortable position that you'd affectionately call a 'sprawl' if it didn't hurt so much. You've just been through something completely fascinating but quite unnerving the first time, rich on the brain.

You know might be back to explore that realm again... but first, to make sense of all the madness and intrigue, what they are talking about! perhaps to bring a taste of that excitement and intrigue into your own life... which seems to be a bit isolated and faraway at the moment. But awareness is coming back, and you realize you may be on the right track. The music in the room, Bunny Wailer, reenters your consciousness...

This train it is bound for glory, this train
This train is bound for glory, this train
This train is bound for glory
Don't ride nothing but the holy.
This train it is bound for glory, this train.

"But yes! This train... it is bound for glory!" You know these words well, but you also know the train is bound, for Zion. So we have been heading there after all. Was that a different Zion? Could there be two? The folks in the linkuous netherworld seem terribly excited and alarmed about Zion in a way that was most unfamilliar, peculiar.

Next time, you say, we go with a broom (always a broom!) in one hand... and a trumpet in the other. Wrapped in a towel, because you always should carry a towel when exploring the universe. Or any universe actually.

But now, in peace and familliar surroundings that, in one's continued isolation, become more whimsical every day. Spin the couch around so its legs contact the wall, and stare at it squinty-like with such intensity that for a brief moment, I'm the one on the wall, looking down. A very tall, long and narrow room! Lay down the other pieces of furniture around it and the effect increases. Cool! Now to hang a rug up there, and a coffee table, maybe glue a glass to its surface with something clear that looks like water in it...?

We really must get out more, we thinks. Or at least for groceries, only thing to eat is paste.

The dust bunnies sway to the deep riddim of Bunny Wailer.


by Hugh Manatee
Location: In Context

PostPosted: Sun Jul 01, 2007 12:04 pm
Post subject: Hocus Locus

"Hello broom, we're both in trouble aren't we."

Un-frikkin'-believably good description of rabbit hole website psy-ops Thanks for that.

I'm sending it to some people I'm trying to edu-macate on the mental geography of infowar.

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