New observations from my suburban small town making that transition to larger impersonal town.  I used to live on the parade route and we would need at least two large coffee urns and four dozen donuts to host family and friends dropping by.  Today this main street was empty.  No flag on the neighbor’s porch, no chairs on the sidewalk, just a day like any other.  I felt like the last of my dwindling family playing audience to dying tradition.  My daughter and I show up mostly for the bagpipe band now.  The family knows my take on 911, the bogus wars and the oligarchy of secretive and powerful people who use world governments via media and social engineering for their own profits and or evil amusement.

We talked about things being open on this “holiday”.  TD Bank was open which led to the statement, “We only get Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter off”.

To which I said, “globo-corpo-fascism” and my son-in-law replied “the Illuminati plan to destroy america”.

That got me thinking about my life in the R&D labs of a major company you all would know.  A life in steel toes and safety glasses that continues today at yet another major company you all should know.  I have to say that in the last five to seven years these companies have taken safety to levels beyond safety.  Now nobody wants to get injured on the job but it’s now more of a mind game type thing of enforcing compliance.  Is the company really concerned about your safety or rather concerned about loosing it’s asset, you, a trained employee (at will employee).  Well at the “new” company there are safety posters ready for “roll out” focused on outside of work activities which include seasonal favorites like mowing the lawn in sandals, ticks with lime disease and reading/following labels on gardening chemicals.  Yes, companies have to “promote” common sense here, ie, protect their ASSet, you plus insurance payments.  In recent years this has taken on a sort of Nazi-like hyper complicance theme rather than a simple egalitarian industrial safety program.  

What it feels like?  My “fellow Americans” and co-workers are not highly trained people.  More like the American Idol and Dancing with the Stars set.  They only know how to specifically watch paint dry in the manner prescribed by the signed off certified Mil spec manual.  Well, they get sexually excited at catching somebody sans safety equipment.  You may think that a bit hyperbolic yet it’s not by much.  For the vast majority propaganda works.  They have not had my cross cultural experience.  They never dared think outside box.  I appear odd to them, endorsing neither left nor right politics, having zero interest in Boston sports teams and certainly never ever talking about the shit on TV.  I just refuse to degrade my spirit that way.

So, we watched the parade as sort of the last family doing so on this main street of suburban McMansionville after which I had to leave.  Well the grandkids are crushed.  They want to come with me.  Kids are soo much closer to God.  No having been indoctrinated yet.  They think Grampy is cool but also spent and feeling hopelessly empty.  There were no cookouts.  There was no beer and it will be a miserable Tuesday morning at the paint watching compliance factory.

In closing I give you a kindred spirit, Bob Dean as interviewed by Bill and Kerry at project Camelot.

http://projectcamelotproductio…

From project camelot, Keith Hunter’s Lost Age of High Knowledge

http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Age…

Keith Hunter is author of a new book called “The Lost Age ofHigh Knowledge”. This is a masterly work that delves into the mysteries of the sacred sites around the world and how ancients and now the secret government is using mathematics and hyper dimensional physics to tap into the energy grid where these sites are built. To quote from his site…”Behind the mythical stories of the ancients, behind the superstitions and shamanism and the arcane traditions of the past, there lies a profound high science – one that is physically engineerable. A science lost to the wider world due to global upheaval prior to the time of recorded history, but that has been secretly reconstructed in the modern age, and developed for the pursuit of military supremacy and social control.”

Join us as we discuss his new book!

This I can believe in.

Osama bin laden psyops not.

Makes zombie attacks plausible.

http://www.google.com/#sclient…

Oh, and there was no Rapture because I had to put down the chestnut Apocalyptic Horse last Friday.  You just can’t have an Apocalypse without all four horses.

Should it be a felony to link.  Some think so apparently.

http://www.techdirt.com/articl…

More telecom spying.

http://www.blacklistednews.com…

And no I do not own a cell phone myself.

http://www.naturalnews.com/032…

http://cryptogon.com/?p=22245

http://www.infowars.com/fear-b…

Resulting in incoherent rants about subjects nobody wants to hear.

http://www.naturalnews.com/032…

Mike however is safe and sound far away from the turmoil and demise of the former United States while I am not.

The horses are off the former Apocalypse Ranch.  They have been moved to their new woodland quarters.  People who love us attended our first cookout which was followed by a campfire.  Still tons of grief and uncertainty about the future.  The end of suburbia, our former ways of life.

My grand daughter looks like her mother.  Two years ago this would have been such a joyous time.  Such things now are jaded by the certainties of a crash and burn America.

The sheer chaos of multiple family moving continues.  Be out in 30 days?  Yeah right, takes about two months to break a lease, get state permission for a new occupancy.   Five days to move the phone?  My second daughter unloaded a 2000 piece Best Buy truck last week, she is having (they are taking) my four grandaughter this Wednesday.  Thoughts of chivalry is dead come to mind and other idiot moves too.  Phones, internet, Comcast vs Verizon and how both suck equally but in different ways.  So, the comcast email is dies just as soon as verizon takes the phone number after the five day holding period at an “independent agency”.  And thus the very name Lasthorseman dies along with the passwords, sites visited are gone.  The non-PC rants, the horses, the Apocalypse CT watch and the grandkid stories will vanish as soon as I have to request the new passwords I am to old to remember.  I once ran for selectman in my local community but I now seek to hide from it.  Not wanting to participate in the neuvo-fascism of the Gattica world “we/they” are fast building.

Japans nukes are not going away anytime soon and if that were not bad enough conventional doom is evident.

http://theeconomiccollapseblog…

grampy does not live downstairs anymore.  He does not have his workshop to fix things.  He does not have the fun of the summer swimming pool, the deck the dogs jumped into the pool from.  The 4 wheelers, the snowmobiles, the plastic PooBear that automaticaly blew bubbles, or the snowfort igloo maker nor any of those suburban trappings I used to make your life magical and fun.  I have none of this stuff no more.

Yet at two your eyes light up and you scream my name with such excitement.  It is gone now.  Maybe, perhaps we have a year or so left and then what.  Getting new jobs at 55 years of age.  Starting over and that prospect of moving to remote cheaper rural America when ten bucks a gallon gas is imminent?

This baby boomers kids can’t make it like I did.  He won’t have the opportunity I did.  The normalcy I did.  The compassion, the common sense.

What do I think tonight.  How is my mood.

“Have a good one”

Have a good what?

What did you say to me?

“Are you fucking serious or fucking delusional or are you on designer psych meds.

“Have a good one?”

Check out the nuclear rain.

Yeah, that was nasty, even for me.

Dad is permanently in the nursing home.  Ma saw him crying in the hallway which means even with advanced dimentia he knows he is not coming home.

Fact.  This decision to warehouse my Dad is not mine, my mother’s nor the extended families but instead a staff of for profit caregivers who have actually done a great job enhancing not only the lifestyle of Dad, but the entire family for several years now.  Could I take care of Dad at my home with help from “the staff” on a more economical basis than nursing home care.  Yeah, maybe but I am also at war with the building code gestapo in that fading suburban dream of McMansionville on top of covering for kids who after the intentionally engineered great financial crash of 2008 will never be on their own (ie, the dream of home ownership).

Did I mention my forced retirement?  The shitty temp job I have now with yet another formerly top, I mean super top used to be this huge big time defense contracting company that I could write an entire book about the vast empty shell they are now?

How I can see my oldest grandson, formerly of good and gracious nature getting contaminated by modern society and acting out at the ripe age of four because his family home is going into (intentional) forclosure?

“Why Grampy”  “Why did you take down the pool”  Grampy’s magical summer oasis of fun at the time was an insurance liabilty in the impending sale of Grampy’s magical ancient and not up to code Mc NonMansion.  No I does not make sense.

Someplace I saw on the net how “we need” 700 capitalistic new companies on par with Apple to save us from our economic woes.  Now you just can’t do that if the suppression of creative thought involves a good feelup at the airport or even the local shopping mall or lamestream promotion of Viet-Libya-stanie Bilderberg prescribed world peace prize police no fry zones.

What does one do in these interesting end times of Nostradamus/Hopi Indian/Mayan/Vedic/New Age/Jedi Knight/12th Imam/UFO disclosure prophecies.

One goes to the fridge and gets the last crappy Budwieser.

I was not prepared.  Not ready yet the people who love me and those I love most asked for a spring fire.  My wood gathering crew, a four year old and two year old grandsons stood at the ready to pull sticks out of this woodland retreat to give to the master fire builder, me, Grampy.

They so look up to me.  Can I with my skills provide them with a marshmallow toasting fire in ten minutes in this rain soaked environment armed only with a miniature Bic lighter.  My search for dry pine needles and long dried covered dead wood kindling prevailed.  The first fire of in this next season of love was born.

What does all of this mean in the potential continuity of the human species that is my extended human species suburban formerly “American” family?   I have no frigging clue at this point other than the prospects are mighty dim.