From Atop the Apocalyptic Horse

It is a short incomplete story of my personal Armageddon and an indictment of a sick society.  Much has changed since then and the never ending soap opera of the clash between good and evil continues.  Eurotrib loved it as did some of the people on my other Anti-New World Order lists.  I regret not posting it here but its mainly because of the overwhelming mind mushing overload I get from  the realization that my own mother is the Satanic opposite of myself.

It may sound like I harbor hatred towards my own mother.  I wouldn’t do that as she is my mother but then again I need to get back to my normal spreading of goodness and light and if that means dumping 53 years of the evil anchor in my heart then so be it.  It is after all the psychosis I hate.  It goes by the name sociopath and it does reflect the very same pathology characteristic of the most famous and well known luminaries of our current political and world situation.  

It was a perfect July morning deep in the woods of Maine.  We were on vacation again at Uncle Bill’s wilderness retreat as our family had done for uncounted years.  It turned out to be a large event in my life after I married my wife and into her family.   Andrew, her father was one of sixteen children.  We used to joke about spending the rest of my life meeting the cousins.  Her Uncle Bill with his gracious and generous heart opened up his excellent wilderness land purchase by inviting all of the family members to enjoy nature in all of its majesty.  Some came and enjoyed while others came did enjoy but fell upon darker times.  Over the years I had become a core member of the community, the fireman, in charge of securing wood for the day and evening campfires many children enjoyed toasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories over.  I used fast burning softwood in the morning and the driest hardwood at night.  In these later years I also became sort of by default the ATV trail guide and leader.  It must have been those years my daughter and I spent exploring the old logging roads of Maine or merely the fact that eventually we did manage to find our way back to camp.  We had progressed over the years and our numbers grew too large to stay in the hunting cabin, first with tents, then with pop up campers and finally with tow behind RVs.

This year my daughter was here with my one-year-old grandson.  They were busy cleaning up the trailer so I took the Grampy opportunity to pamper him, get to know him and perhaps to see if I still had “it” in my old age.   I took my one-year-old grandson in my arms and set him in front of me on my 450 Honda ATV.  We took off down the wooded logging road slowly at first and then a bit faster.  I started playing back my memories for him trying to connect with the mind of a one year old, a mind not yet messed up by the rules and complications of society while at the same time doubting I still had the psychic stuff to even attempt such a thing, what me being a 50 something old fart and all.  He did seem to connect with me, heart to heart, mind-to-mind as he looked up at me with a smile from ear to ear.  I showed him the woods, the woods our family has retreated to annually every summer for thirty years.  I told him to fear not the creatures of the woods, for they would not hurt him if he were true in spirit.  I said I would teach him the way.  Respect the land in its beauty and it will take care of you. I showed him nature, the mountains, the rushing stream all from the seat of an ATV.   Some years ago I carried his mother on my back, ran two miles down the mountain in desperation for the epinephrine kit we forgot to bring on our walk.  Stumbling through swamps and fallen trees with her on my back she finally said “Dad I’m OK”.   My first daughter had suddenly “outgrown” her life-threatening allergy to bees after stepping on a nest so yes I believe in miracles.  We searched for moose in the early morning and counted stars at night.  I told him his mother swims with beavers.   I think daughter and beaver both scared each other when they met face to face in the swirling mountain stream. I saw water exploding from two directions and then one daughter standing up.  I pictured Kaiser our noble soul rottweiller pulling logs out of the woods for the next night’s fire.  Our family dog came to know the four hour ride to camp ended in the transition from paved road to dirt road and came alive panting with anticipation at the prospect.   It was all here in my mind as I played it for him.

The next morning upon seeing me in the trailer door a one year old says his first words Vroom, Vroom reciting back my imitation of what an ATV sounds like as he extends his arms for me to pick him up again.  The Grampy connection was made and continues to this day.  A studious two year old now inserts the key into the proper slot, waits for the green light and then hits the start button bringing the 750 cc fuel injected engine to life just as Grampy taught him.  The only saving grace is he can’t put the machine in gear yet.  I became the King of his world and one of my spiritual guides yelled at me for it.

“You are far to important to be using your skills that way.”

“Important, me, are you serious, and what skills are you talking about.”  He is my grandson and all I did was try to let him discover the same communication I perceived when I was much younger, so I heard the voice of my wife’s uncle in my head when I was far younger, I don’t have any magic left in me anyway what with this food supply and me not having the wisdom to embrace that spiritual connection in my youth, just passing the torch from one generation to another.”

“Yes I understand your concerns, but he will value you above his parents and this may lead to future complications”.

“Complications in what, the master plan, destiny, we, us, the human collective species get to write that do we not, I know we tend to screw it all up but why don’t you not micromanage let me be my creative intuitive self, leave me to deal with it.”

Turns out my guide might be right as his father, who wants to be the light of his life is feeling left out when his first born son first runs to me and not him.  I am debating on how to explain to him, how it’s not his fault.  Why he should not feel inadequate.  Why his father in law is “many things” and how we agree on the basics in life.  All of these things may take a lifetime to explain and why the crossing of our paths may contribute to saving the human race.

I became a senior engineer for an international company.  I have three patents and two trade secret awards.  I traveled internationally with world published scientists and had gained a reputation for being a creative contributor to projects built into household items today.  I have not been the best or brightest of MIT scholars in my field but instead a bridge between intellectual and tradesman.   It was the same too in the other psychic world, no I was not Uri Geller who could bend spoons with his mind but then again in those “turbulent” 70’s other cars full of drinking teens learned it was best to leave their isolated parking spots if I did.  The cops were coming or might come.

Another is the story of fixing my black 19what-ever-year-it-was Oldsmobile Dynamic 88.  Front disc brakes I could not fix.  I took everything apart in my Dad’s driveway a suburban home on a ¼ acre lot in post WWII America and finally got totally spent and disgusted.  Our neighbor, an auto mechanic and proprietor of the most respected service station in town told me what to do as I was hunched over and cursing this retarded thing that could never be put together again.

“Take a c-clamp and compress the cylinder so you can re-assemble it”.

 I thought, duh, that should have been obvious and I turned around from my crouched position to thank him.  He was not there, only the chill in my spine and the sudden realization that I went to his wake last week.  I know I heard his voice.  I know I had no idea how to attempt to fix what I was trying to fix and I know he told me.  I have dead people telling me how to fix my car.  Well, interesting but perhaps its best if I keep this to myself.

So here we are back in the present day.  I am embarking upon a new stage of my life.  It is going to be like William Cooper with his book “Behold a Pale Horse”.  I became the Lasthorseman and Knight of the Fifth Veil several years ago in the political internet blogosphere yet now I have another story to tell.  I am documenting both my personal Apocalypse and that of the current world we live in.  I am just a humble servant of goodness and light, a 53 year old who has had enough of satanically inspired and driven bullshit.  Be it my mother of be it the Whore of Babylon controlling the world we live in today I am saying

“Fuck you bitch, I ain’t playing your games anymore!”.

My Dad, an Army Air Corps B24 pilot comes home from the war.  He starts a family when his wife has me but that soon turns sour when Jean has a nervous breakdown and I went to live on the farm under the care of his mother Edith.  From what I was told later in life this was an extended period of time, which only ended when, I started to master that human gift of communication, speech.  Herein lies my conflict and an introduction to my very way of thinking.  There is a dual meaning to the Chinese proverb “May you live in interesting times”.  Do you mean interesting in a positive constructive egalitarian way or the other way around?  Most good people with noble intentions make the mistake; perhaps a fatal mistake of assuming this is the case.  Life has dealt me another hand though and I took the name Lasthorseman.  I have led a good and fun filled life in the greatest (interesting) time in all the history of mankind.  I thanked Him for it and then asked Him when he was going to do that Biblical Apocalypse thing, smiting the human race off the planet earth and if I might be granted one last horse ride before he does.  It scares me now so be careful what you wish for as it might come true.  To top all of this off I’m really not the religious type at all. Everything in life has a good side and an evil side to it.  We best keep those two inevitable things in balance or we go the way of the dinosaurs.  Harnessing the power of the atom we can heat millions of homes or incinerate, literally vaporize those very same homes.  I don’t think that way when I am on top of my handsome blue-eyed steed.  Such thoughts melt away when on the farm and close to nature.  The evil comes I will present evidence to you and let you decide if you too think this good vs evil thing is off balance.  I am going to go back and forth between my personal Apocalypse and the world’s.

For background I present an explanation of the veils.

Slavery and the eight veils

by Don Harkins

Over the last several years I have evolved and discarded several theories in an attempt to explain why it is that most people cannot see truth — even when it smacks them in the face. Those of us who can see “the conspiracy” have participated in countless conversations amongst ourselves that address the frustration of most peoples’ inability to comprehend the extremely well-documented arguments which we use to describe the process of our collective enslavement and exploitation. The most common explanation to be arrived at is that most people just “don’t want to see” what is really going on.

Extremely evil men and women who make up the world’s power-elite have cleverly cultivated a virtual pasture so grass green that few people seldom, if ever, bother to look up from where they are grazing long enough to notice the brightly colored tags stapled to their ears.

The same people who cannot see their enslavement for the pasture grass have a tendency to view as insane “conspiracy theorists” those of us who can see the past the farm and into the parlor of his feudal lordship’s castle.

Finally, I understand why.

It’s not that those who don’t see that their freedom is vanishing under the leadership of the power-elite “don’t want to see it” — they simply can’t see what is happening to them because of the unpierced veils that block their view.

All human endeavors are a filtration process. Sports is one of the best examples. We play specific sports until we get kicked off the playground. The pro athletes we pay big bucks to watch just never got kicked off the playground. Where millions of kids play little league each spring, they are filtered out until there are about 50 guys who go to the World Series in October.

Behind the first veil: There are over six billion people on the planet. Most of them live and die without having seriously contemplated anything other than what it takes to keep their lives together. Ninety percent of all humanity will live and die without having pierced the first veil.

The first veil: Ten percent of us will pierce the first veil and find the world of politics. We will vote, be active and have an opinion. Our opinions are shaped by the physical world around us; we have a tendency to accept that government officials, network media personalities and other “experts” are voices of authority. Ninety percent of the people in this group will live and die without having pierced the second veil.

The second veil: Ten percent of us will pierce the second veil to explore the world of history, the relationship between man and government and the meaning of self-government through constitutional and common law. Ninety percent of the people in this group will live and die without having pierced the third veil.

The third veil: Ten percent of us will pierce the third veil to find that the resources of the world, including people, are controlled by extremely wealthy and powerful families whose incorporated old world assets have, with modern extortion strategies, become the foundation upon which the world’s economy is currently indebted. Ninety percent of the people in this group will live and die without having pierced the fourth veil.

The fourth veil: Ten percent of us will pierce the fourth veil to discover the Illuminati, Freemasonry and the other secret societies. These societies use symbols and perform ceremonies that perpetuate the generational transfers of arcane knowledge that is used to keep the ordinary people in political, economic and spiritual bondage to the oldest bloodlines on earth. Ninety percent of the people in this group will live and die without having pierced the fifth veil.

The fifth veil: Ten percent of us will pierce the fifth veil to learn that the secret societies are so far advanced technologically that time travel and interstellar communications have no boundaries and controlling the actions of people is what their members do as offhandedly as we tell our children when they must go to bed. Ninety percent of the people in this group will live and die without having pierced the sixth veil.

The sixth veil: Ten percent of us will pierce the sixth veil where the dragons and lizards and aliens we thought were the fictional monsters of childhood literature are real and are the controlling forces behind the secret societies. Ninety percent of the people in this group will live and die without piercing the seventh veil.

The seventh veil: I do not know what is behind the seventh veil. I think it is where your soul is evolved to the point you can exist on earth and be the man Ghandi was, or the woman Peace Pilgrim was-people so enlightened they brighten the world around them no matter what.

The eighth veil? Piercing the eighth veil probably reveals God and the pure energy that is the life force in all living things-which are, I think, one and the same.

If my math is accurate there are only about 60,000 people on the planet who have pierced the sixth veil. The irony here is too incredible: Those who are stuck behind veils one through five have little choice but to view the people who have pierced the veils beyond them as insane. With each veil pierced, exponentially shrinking numbers of increasingly enlightened people are deemed insane by exponentially increasing masses of decreasingly enlightened people.

Adding to the irony, the harder a “sixth or better veiler” tries to explain what he is able to see to those who can’t, the more insane he appears to them.

Our enemy, the state

Behind the first two veils we find the great majority of people on the planet. They are tools of the state: Second veilers are the gullible voters whose ignorance justify the actions of politicians who send first veilers off to die in foreign lands as cannon fodder — their combined stations in life are to believe that the self-serving machinations of the power-elite are matters of national security worth dying for.

Third, fourth, fifth and sixth veilers are of increasing liability to the state because of their decreasing ability to be used as tools to consolidate power and wealth of the many into the hands of the power-elite. It is common for these people to sacrifice more of their relationships with friends and family, their professional careers and personal freedom with each veil they pierce.

Albert Jay Nock (1870-1945), author of “Our Enemy, the State” (1935), explained what happens to those who find the seventh and eighth veils: “What was the best that the state could find to do with an actual Socrates and an actual Jesus when it had them? Merely to poison one and crucify the other, for no reason but that they were too intolerably embarrassing to be allowed to live any longer.”

Conclusions

And so now we know that it’s not that our countrymen are so committed to their lives that, “they don’t want to see,” the mechanisms of their enslavement and exploitation. They simply “can’t see” it as surely as I cannot see what’s on the other side of a closed curtain.

The purpose of this essay is threefold: To help the handful of people in the latter veils to understand why the masses have little choice but to interpret their clarity as insanity; 2. To help people behind the first two veils understand that living, breathing and thinking are just the beginning and; 3. Show people that the greatest adventure of our life is behind the next veil because that is just one less veil between ourselves and God.

Present Day- The Intervention

On October 25 in the early morning my wife got a phone call from my mother.  EMTs from Harrison Ambulance Service were there to take my father to the hospital.  The problem?

“Dad peed on the floor and I have no clean sheets”

Ma went to the hospital in the ambulance and I met her there.  After many hours in the emergency room she finally asked to go home so I took her.  I was assuming she would get something to eat and head back there later.  The next morning my wife called her and asked what room my Dad, Harry was in.  She did not know.   Normally I would have dropped everything but this was the weekend of the town’s annual pumpkin festival.  It is an annual tradition we became quite a part in with a fully decorated yard of Halloween scenes.  Haunted hayrides would be passing by the house to see jumping ghosts (a trampoline, white sheets and blacklights) and me at my tesla coil complete with Star Wars looking light sabers.  Then there was a fog machine and dim lights focused on the graveyard scene.  It became a fun family event over the years but this year it was cancelled because they predicted rain.  This left me without “my staff” as most of the family had to work the next night.  I debated not doing the full event this year up until the linesman from town came and shut off both the streetlights in front of my house.  Then my daughter Katie pitched in to help.  It normally takes two days to set it all up.  This year turned out to be the best ever as the weather was perfect and the turnout was great.  

With me picking up and my wife Pam sleeping off two days of twelve hour night shifts it was not until Wednesday October 29 that we were able to visit Dad in the hospital.  Pam said “We have to find out what is going on with your Dad, he is only in there for a uti and he should be home now”.  We already knew he had been to the doctors on the 24th and he started his antibiotics.  Off we went to the hospital to find out he was in room 614.  My symbolism bells got rung as we had just seen the movie Evan Almighty.  Genesis 614, one act of random kindness, here we go I thought to myself.  We arrived in Dad’s room 614 only to find Ma had not been there to visit.  In ten minutes the doctor and the social worker arrived.   Dr. Rasheed says Dad is well enough for discharge but that it is a “custodial” issue.  Then the social worker, Joy talks to us about getting services in the home needed to take Harry home and that she would look into placement in a nursing home on a temporary basis for five days.  Jean, my mother was at her doctor and later not available so we got a call from Joy with a choice of two homes.  Pam works in the business so she knew and made the choice.  They discharged him that day and Pam and I drove to the home and waited for him.  I watched the ambulance pull up and take Harry in.  Jean was curiously absent.  We gave them some time and then went in to see what room he was in.

It was sparse accommodations.  I detected the residual smell of smoke from the day room of this older nursing home and the elevator button needed a double push.  At least he got a two bed room.  There was a dresser and a stand for the TV but no remote for it.  Inside was a bag with Dad’s personal stuff and I took his wallet not wanting to leave it in this very insecure environment.  It seemed very sparse, only the pants he went to the hospital in, one shirt and a robe. Four days in the hospital and that’s all?  Dad asked for his glasses but those and his hearing aide were not there.  We left him there only to work on “breaking him out” as fast as we could.  We returned and got a phone call from Jean.  She decided to stop driving because she got scared coming home from the hospital earlier in the day.  The chaos was about to begin and wait until I tell you what I found in the wallet of a patient with dementia.

On October 30 I made a call to Steve Henderson our elder affairs legal specialist. I asked him how I could get Dad to live with me at my house.  After all Pam is a CNA and we could also get some services.  He said it was simple just get Dad to say so!  Off we went to the home to ask Dad a couple of questions.  It must have been one of his bad nights as all he could muster was “where is Jean” and “when am I going home”.  I pressed further, I said “Dad, do you want to come and live with Pam and I?”

“Well why would I do that?”

“Cause I don’t think Ma wants you back.”

“Do you remember when I was born and Ma had a nervous breakdown, I think it’s happening again”.

“No I don’t remember that”.

“OK do you remember when I was getting in trouble you told me about Ma, how I lived on the farm for two years and that the doctors said Ma could have another episode later in life?”

“No, I can’t remember that either”.

The next days became a blur, a whirlwind of chaos, a never ending demand of my time as I struggled to A) get a job B) Refurbish a destroyed apartment C) Make plans to get Dad out of the home.

With Dad tucked away in the home Ma went into overdrive on a manic me,me,me high.  She first asked me to pick up her new meds at the drugstore.  It was Remeron and after that Google I started to worry.  She seemed to be displaying contempt for Dad, ignoring him, dumping a plastic bag of clothes for him on the hospital floor.  She didn’t sit next to him.  October 31 started with an emergency room visit to General Hospital for dry mouth, eye problems and anxiety.  Later at 3:30 we went to meet with Steve Henderson of Allison and Taylor, elder affairs attorneys to start legal papers.  Still later yet Trick orTreating with Dave, Heather and Dave Jr and a walk to see Dad in the nursing home provided her with the attention she craved.    Pam asked if Jean could see alright in these now dark sidewalks.  “Oh no, I’m fine” she replied.  

I wondered what the amiable black guy in the bed next to Dad was thinking as just last night I was there desperately asking Dad if he remembered how Ma cracked up.  I played it like a movie scene.

“Dad, we want you to come live with us, Ma is cracking up!”

“Where is Jean and when am I going home?”

Yet the very next night the entire family is there seemingly happy and together.  I wonder if this poor man thought he was in a nut house.  We seemed to be a happy bunch on Halloween eve showing great grandfather little David’s blue power ranger costume.

November 1 brought another phone call and basically a demand to be driven into Boston to see an eye specialist she didn’t have an appointment with.  Last night she told me here eyes were better not to mention she just had a complete work up at General Hospital and had a scheduled appointment on November 7.  Let me also mention this “frail and fragile” 80 year old woman kept a frantic all day schedule.  Oh, so busy I forgot to mention exactly what was in the wallet of an 86 year old who goes to adult day care three times a week.  Here is an unsigned credit card.  I call and enter the information.  Zero balance, credit limit……ready…….$27,000.00.  Pissa.  Stellar financial practices Ma.  The social security card was in there too.  Jean managed to call Swift  Medical Center and give them the very same symptoms she gave the doctor yesterday.  It must have sounded dire enough as Swift’s arraigned to pick her up.  I scrambled and wondered how and with whom I could talk to at Swift’s about what was starting to become a daily dial the doctor routine and increasingly bizarre and or cruel statements.  Pam finally called her cell phone which was answered by a doctor who just handed it to Jean.  I think the call ended with “tell them you don’t need another cat scan”.  Now thinking how to proceed I need to get Ma psych help yet Pam knows “they like the manic high”.  How right she was.  Ma calls at 6:30 in the morning of November 3 again requiring a ride to the eye doctor.  I divert the situation and talk her into going to her primary care doctor for stress, something to make her sleep at night, anything at this point.  At this point I am desperate to tell the full story of Jean’s total mental health picture something which I have no idea if it is in the records or not.  The internet and my amateur diagnosis does not agree and in fact is contrary to what I think is the real problem.  Malignant narcissistic personality disorder, an eighty-one year old got tired of caring for her eighty-six year old husband with dementia and just snapped.  For my family it was a Revelation and yes I did capitalize that to reference The Bible and its most appropriate prophetic doom themes.  I am left to deal with an insane mother in a society I consider insane, to the point of being the enemy of mankind.  How do I deal with this?  In spite of calling the primary care doctor’s office and warning them ahead of time the doctor refuses to consider any input I might have.  She does not ask but instead “services her client”.    After spending yet another day in the dial a doctor routine I looked up her two newly prescribed meds lexapro and xanax.  Now is it bipolar, manic depressive or what.  Gees I don’t know and nobody is even interested in asking me.  That went well, NOT.

Still not giving up on November 4 at 4:00PM Pam, Jean, me and Carol Collins all met at 2 Stafford Road to discuss the services needed to take Harry home.  After that we are all hungry and go to the Oriental Gardens in my home town of Easton.  Pam and I would only later realize that Jean, a near totally blind person read the fine print of the menu ordered what she wanted in the dimly lit dining room.  The next day there was also a meeting with Jen the social worker at the nursing home.  The plan was for Harry to come home once we secured services.

One November 6 Jean calls and says she has bad news for me.  Patricia Becker, the nurse practitioner has told her that she would not release Harry to her because she was loosing weight.  I once again rehashed all of these elder care options I was ready and willing to offer her.  Dad and her here at my four family apartment house, Dad here with some services.  Pam and I had even offered to move upstairs once my demolished apartment was restored and let them have my much nicer downstairs fully renovated apartment.  Ma appeared to be OK with all of this and I called Dave to move Dad’s stuff to my porch room which meant cleaning all of the neatly and strategically placed absolutely critical documentation I needed to put my own personal life back together.  Much of the problem is this.  I know my mother and with my “gift” was able all along to see through her true intentions and wishes yet all of the “normal” people around me could not, would not envision the clash of high veilers.  They influenced my decisions enough to alter my course plus I too in spite of my knowledge dismissed those inner intuitions and kept those channels of hope open.

But now on November 10, 2008 at 5:18 pm I can dispense with all of the anal minute details.  I am finally free of her bullshit, manipulations and the channeled psychic guidance from her Satanic minions and or the several personalities she has displayed to me.  She was called and told she was on her own.   I told her it was all her, the finances, the estate, the lawyers, the caregiver decisions, all of it.   I told her to not contact me and fully intend to stop short any conversations going forward about any of the above plus I also don’t want to ever, ever see her face again at the joyful family occasions we all enjoyed over the past years.  I did contemplate a lawsuit on the estate of Harry for emotional duress, loss of time and total disruption of my family.  I then asked if she intended to block my visitation rights.  I want to give my Dad a happy family Christmas and Thanksgiving as long as I can stay here, which might not be long now.

Furthermore I am returning all of Dad’s personal possessions, a bed, an Anwar and his clothing on November 11, 2008.  I am returning the key to the house at 2 Stafford Road in Danbury Massachusetts where I grew up along with any and all legal papers currently in my possession, again at great expense to me both emotionally and financially.  It is simply not worth any future potential financial gains to me and my family.  I fully accept that my mother is several personalities, has zero compassion for anybody and is in fact a lost cause and destructive and dangerous to all who come in contact with her.  Going forward I intend to publish my autobiography in the interest of both the psychiatric community, the legal community and the anti-New World Order community as an indication of where this future dystopian future world is heading and I will on an ongoing basis suggest strategies for avoiding the Satanic institutionalized machines designed only to suck up the money of once great American heros.