You are a Conspiracy Theorist

People do say that to me sometimes, but generally I say if first, by way of a warning and to deflect fallout. Some people become emotionally very upset when it is suggested to them that things and ideas they assume to be real may in fact be false.

I think it's sometimes akin to the old claim of "false prophet", for which a man could be put to death (although if the rulers are corrupt, the false prophets prevail and the faithful are killed).
It is a label, in various forms, that has been used since days of old.

The first actual conspiracy was enunciated by Satan, who presented Eve with a false description of the nature of God and the true effects of eating from the tree of knowledge. But he was not theorising; he was lying.

Although I have been known to mention a few stretchers in my time, since I came to faith I have given up lying, as Steve Lake wrote in The Gunner and the Waitress. I tend to state certain ideas with great confidence, such as the idea that the Word of God is completely true, or that the Earth is flat and motionless and "space" is just a Hollywood creation, In respect of these matters I am not a theorist, but - I would say - an enlightened observer. My eyes have been opened.

Other claims are more nuanced: they are indeed theories. I am fully persuaded that much of the history of the World has been falsified, but I don't claim to know the extent of the falsification or to always perfectly discern between the real and the unreal. I can be misled, as can we all.

In history, anyone who spoke against the prevailing regime, presenting an alternative view of reality or attempting to reveal malfeasance in public office, corruption, deception, unjust legal rulings...could be neutralised by besmirching their character or calling their mental health into dispute. They could also be threatened, deported, imprisoned, tortured and/or killed.

Winston Smith was a conspiracy theorist in Eric Blair's novel, although Eric Blair himself was an architect of our reality, otherwise he would not have been empowered to write and publish his books
McMurphy was a conspiracy theorist in One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest (and Ken Kesey must be treated with the same caution as Eric Blair).

Jesus Christ was a conspiracy theorist from the perspective of the Pharisees and the Roman authorities
He was tortured and killed but in the moment of His death He was glorified and death could not hold Him. He overcame the grave for the sake of the whole world. His Love is perfect.

I don't claim any commonality with our Saviour. I am just a sinner saved by grace who would do well to mark his words very carefully.

Other folks? I guess some people just assume that the MSM is reliable. If that's you, I'll probably get on your nerves a bit. No worries... I'll try not to bother you:...maybe the MSM is reliable sometimes; as a stopped clock tells the proper time but twice a day.

But please don't feel compelled to repeat the things the MSM says and writes - especially not the front page stuff. Not only is it very low grade information in the main that is already so freely available as to be almost unavoidable, it is actually a form of spellcraft: it is almost always bad news or troubling news and those who follow it become troubled in their hearts so fear sets in among the people. Whether it is an impending war, ecological disaster, a horrific tale of murder or abuse... The list is endless. I advise everyone to avoid reading such stuff if possible, because it troubles the spirit and casts a shadow over the mind..

Thanks.

Wetherspoons

Hi

Just a note to congratulate you all on keeping the pubs open at a time when social isolation can be almost as dangerous as invisible virions. I really appreciate it, as I appreciate your pubs in general (I have visited many) , your locations, staff, beers, menus and prices.

Those five words topped by the Crown:

"Keep Calm and Carry On"

...you guys are providing a shining and courageous example.

Many compliments!

All the best
Derek V Smith

Sent to customer service this day, 20.03.2020

If I were a virus

The day in Birmingham emerges grey, wet and lifeless, like almost every day before it and many days to follow. It's hard to muster the enthusiasm to even empty the rubbish bin, let alone put on a hat at the proper angle and actually get as far as the pub. The park is hardly worth even mentioning (are parks still a thing here?).

No, if I were a virus I would absolutely hang out in Italy, basking in the sunshine and toasting my little corona spikes from morning until nightfall. And why not frequent the beautiful city squares and enjoy some cut price Prosecco at the deserted bars? After all, the people have abandoned the country to me and my brethren so we may as well live it up. We could gather together (they are not even allowed this luxury!) and form a committee, pile into a Cinquecento (how many of us would it hold I wonder?) and then shoot down the E45 to Rimini. Maybe even head for Ravenna to hang out with the mosquitoes, who have more or less taken over the beaches and coastal woodlands down there.

Then with my fellow virions and any of the mosquitoes, sewer rats, ticks, scorpions, vipers, deadly mushrooms, flesh-eating bacteria and poisonous spiders who might care to join us, we could head for Rome to chill with our leader and swap tall tales around the cloisters. Maybe even kick a ball around...

Oh what a life we would have, if only I too could wear the crown!

For we wrestle

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

He had never known aloneness such as this. it was, he thought, a price he was obliged to pay for seeing through every veil of deception, to the core. The reverberating bare bones, bold in their sincerity but always so far from the outward appearance.

The world was segregated. All citizens in his beloved Italy had been ordered to remain in their homes due to an international pandemic. Little short of martial law. But he knew what was going on. It was a playbook on a worldwide scale, like all historical events. Psychological operations or "psyops", designed to produce an effect in the population and to engender the social changes needed to prevail, as they believed possible, in the spiritual battle against the One True God. He knew it. He had seen it time and time again... the chinks in the armour, the minor inconsistencies, the bold lies, all of which revealed the huge underlying deception.

 This kind of mindset - his own - had, of course, been labelled dangerous in glorious historic tradition. Deluded, a sign of psychological illness, something to be discouraged, ostracised, cured. Subtly came the directive, through fiction, movies, news articles, university curricula, advertising, healthcare practices... And it had been going on for a long time. Years, decades, centuries. Millennia.

So he had never known aloneness such as this.
Every opportunity to participate in civil society had been diverted, misrepresented, blocked, and used to cause him to doubt his absolute reliance on the Word of God. And the church was no exception... in many ways it was the most formidable adversary.

But some people, he reasoned, one or two, here and there, would start to look around and understand that reality is not precisely as they had imagined it to be. The gloves were off, for a moment, and the steel fist had been revealed.

The trouble however is that reality is not simply a bit different from what is mainly perceived. It's not merely a matter of fake space expeditions, wars, and terror attacks. All these being arguments that have already alienated almost all potential friends or companions. It is completely different, in a very deep and radical manner. It's too much to contemplate.
We wrestle not against flesh and blood indeed, but we are facing foul hordes of demons, principalities of wickedness, satanic armies from the bowels of the Earth. And he knew this. He had seen it, he lacked the skill to articulate it, but he knew it. He could only look on in mute horror as the horsemen advanced, their swords flashing, their mounts whinnying and foaming at the mouth. He tried to shout a warning but the response was laughter or concern for his mental health.

And so he was alone. Day after blessed day, night after blessed night.
Waiting for the sweet release of death.

A bundle of sticks

Strength through unity: a single rod is easily crushed, while the bundle is far harder to break.
If all countries must unite to fight a single enemy, unity is required. Unity of intent, ethos, and strategy. While one country at a time may be overcome, a united front is far harder to conquer.

This was the philosophy embodied in the famous comment made by Ronald Reagan at the United Nations General Assembly in 1987, when he said

I occasionally think how quickly our differences worldwide would vanish if we were facing an alien threat from outside this world.

And so today, as Europe unites against an alien threat of a different kind. the UN has been quick to act, through its emissaries all over the world - the first and foremost of which undoubtedly that city within the city of Rome, in order to remove all civil liberties from many nations in a single fell swoop. And the gesture is reported as having been widely applauded by the intelligentsia, although it surely has its critics.

As I write, only Italy, Spain, France and Ireland have been subjected to a full lockdown - their single rods now joined together, while Great Britain and all other European countries have resisted. This is perhaps nothing more than a twist in the narrative set down by the architects, but I cannot disregard the possibility that the Jesuit influence in these countries is somewhat tempered by enduring sovereign powers, not least that of the English crown, an opponent of Rome oftentimes in history, although perhaps not quite as resolutely and consistently as we might have wished.

And it is Great Britain, or so it seems, that attracts the brunt of criticism from our beloved neighbours in Italy in particular, many of whom shake their fists from their house arrest prisons.

Many years have passed since British democracy was so widely reviled in Italy... perhaps we might look back to the early 1940s as the country's role in the Axis was cemented and Britain became the principal or at least notional enemy.

As for those of my Italian brothers and sisters who have spoken harshly of their servants, even though, like my fellow citizens, I am devoid of influence, power, and expertise, I am distressed at their plight and saddened by their words.

I would welcome my death if it could prevent the undemocratic incarceration of my neighbours, in whatever country they reside. While I am almost resigned to the inevitability that the internment rules will soon be extended to these fair isles, as yet this single rod has resisted.

I would of course much more welcome my incarceration if by allowing that I am or might become unclean I can protect my neighbours. Of course. But I most certainly would not welcome the arbitrary incarceration of every Briton or resident of any other national for an unproven, hypothetical, intangible ideal to oppose a claimed but unseen and mainly if not entirely fictitious enemy, acting as the deus ex machina to imposed a single political will across all nations and all the world.

So... may God Save our Gracious Queen... and, more importantly:

Praise the Lord, for He is Worthy, Kind and Faithful. May His Mercy endure forever.