I’m fairly sure most readers here are aware of HAARP, but just in case you were not…
Enjoy the collapse. Personally I am just waiting for the full Zombie Apocalypse, and getting a little tired of the wait.

I’m fairly sure most readers here are aware of HAARP, but just in case you were not…
Enjoy the collapse. Personally I am just waiting for the full Zombie Apocalypse, and getting a little tired of the wait.
One of the perpetual complaints made by deceivers and ignorants alike, as well as people who apparently can’t do proper logic, concerning sedevacantism, is that they say the Church needs to have an unbroken line of Papal successors.
This is, of course, nonsense. It’s not true at all. The requirement is not that there is an unbroken line of Popes, because if that were the case, then the Church would have ended when Peter died. The requirement is that there is a perpetual line of Popes.
When one Pope dies and another is eventually elected, between the death of one Pope, and when the new Pope is elected, there is a period of time called an interregnum (Latin for in between realms).
Now, it is absolutely clear that nowhere has there ever been defined a limit for how long an interregnum can last. Read that again. There is no such rule. And in fact we have plenty of evidence that it does not matter how long it lasts. The Church has been officially without anyone on the Throne of Peter at all for almost three years at one point, and had up to three Popes claiming popehood for a period of some 40 years at other times, the resolution of which was only arrived at when Pope Gregory the XII agreed to resign too as long as it was accepted he had been the only legitimate Pope.
In short, the situation we are in today, of being in an interregnum since 9th October 1958 is perhaps unique in its detail, but is not unique in principle.
And all of this is readily understood if you simply are capable of understanding basic English; and namely, the word perpetual.
So, let’s go to the most complete dictionary of the English language ever put together, which my wife kindly gifted me for my 50th Birthday. The 13 volume set of the Oxford English Dictionary, and let’s look up the word perpetual.
Well… will you look at that… very first definition:
Lasting, or destined to last for ever; eternal, unceasing; permanent (during life).
Emphasis added. It is right there in the very first definition, that the word perpetual, while being an eternal continuation, is not necessarily an unbroken one.
What the deceivers do, and possibly those who don’t understand English very well, is confuse ONE of the possible definitions (usually relegated to the engineering field, which, ironically, also has never yet managed to actually create anything truly perpetual with the second definition found below) with the correct one. Namely definition 1 above, with definition labelled as 2. below.
Finally, there is a further, quite specific subtextual use, even in this second definition, under section C. 3.
Well, well, will you look at that.
A hereditary or heritable office.
Which is PRECISELY what the papacy is. And clearly, if it is hereditable, it means the people who inherit it replace someone who died and used to hold it. The people die, the office remains. In perpetuity. And remains empty until a VALID claimant fills it.
It really is not that difficult to understand.
Back in the 1980s, my brother and I tried to watch a David Lynch film called Blue Velvet. It had had weird scenography that was supposedly erotic, or just plain weird, and surrealist, but in a way that made no sense at all of any kind of plot line we could follow. I studiously avoided seeing anything else the man made and specifically avoided the Twin peaks series that started in 1990.
For whatever reason, I started to sort of watch it hoping it might bore me to sleep when I suffer from insomnia. Well… I’m about half way through the second (and last) series which means I am about two-thirds of the way through the whole things; and… I won’t be sure if it’s because of my age at the time of Blue Velvet compared to now, at least, I won’t be sure unless I try and watch Blue Velvet again, which I really don’t think I care to do, but based on Twin Peaks alone so far, I am coming to the very unexpected conclusion that David Lynch may well have been a genius after all.
The mixture of the absurd, the ridiculous, the studied theathricity of both his sets as well as the acting, the slow-pace with its unexpected twists, peppered with random quotes and occasional timeless wisdom, and the music, which somehow ties this whole apparently discordant melange together, somehow, works.
And it works in a way that might well be a truer form of narration of real life, precisely because of the surreal-absurdist elements.
It really is quite a unique style. I see now why people used to rave about him throughout the 1990s. And unless I sit through Blue Velvet again, I am not sure I’ll know if I thought quite the opposite for nearly 40 years because Blue Velvet is just a crappy film, or if it’s because I was too young to perceive certain aspects.
Here is the thing though… I have high expectations for how Twin Peaks might play out. And if it fulfils those expectations, then I will not want to risk watching Blue Velvet. Somehow, if it turns out it was bad, it would somewhat ruin Twin Peaks for me.
And as anyone who has done this as much as I have, often, it is best to leave the reality of the artist in our imagination, rather than meet him or study him too closely, and thus remove any doubt that he too is flawed in the same human ways that reduce us all to mere twisted little goblins.
In any case, so far, I really am enjoying Twin Peaks.
It will happen tomorrow, Saturday 28th September, at 9pm Rome Italy time (3pm EST; 2pm CT) on my livestream.
This post will introduce the setting and situation and the player characters too. Because we plan to play for only about an hour tops, I am placing the situation here. it is assumed the characters already know each other and are familiar with the situation, so that (rural internet permitting) we should be able to just start off and get with it. Some players were a little scant on their character’s description, but these will be added when they send them in.
Each player should have his character in front of them, a pencil and eraser to keep track of things like health points, ammunition, or make general notes, and two six-sided dice to roll for various situations or task resolutions they will need to perform.
If you want a copy of the rules, it’s only £5 as a PDF and you can get your copy here and print it (31 pages).
Below, the map showing the area and below that, the situation as our heros find themselves in.
Area Map
The Player Characters
Jack O’Trady (aka Jack O’Trades)
Equipment: Shotgun +10 rounds, .45 Colt +12 rounds, knife, bedroll, satchel, $10
Height: 6’1″ Age: 28
Appearance: sandy blonde hair with a scraggly reddish beard. Twill pants with suspenders and a waist long coat with belt on the outside it that carries his sixgun, ammunition for it, knife and flint and steel kit. He is broad-shouldered and thick at the waist, sure footed.
Bio: A Catholic Irishman, not in search of gold, but freedom. He fled his motherland to escape the ravages of the English – “famine, me arse!” – after politely expressing his disagreement with a couple of the red-coated twats (in Old Testament fashion, anyway). He landed in New York, immediately headed West in search of purpose and modest work and hasn’t stopped for 6 months. Each town showing more disdain for his kind than the last. He’s a simple man, though not as dumb as most. He has a strong will for survival and a moral compass with a needle that could use tightening.
Leroy Gray (aka The Gray Gunner)
Equipment: Winchester rifle +15 rounds, .45 Colt +30 rounds, knife, bedroll, satchel, $10, Horse (named Whiskey)
Height: 6’4″ Age: 27
Apperance: brown hair, moustache, grey overcoat (confederate style)
Bio: Leroy fancies himself a bit of a gunslinger, having survived one duel that was deemed legal but the local sheriff a couple of months earlier and he is partial to wearing the same grey coat he had on during the civil war.
James (aka Just James)
Equipment: Rifle (Winchester) +15 rounds, .45 Colt +24 rounds, knife, bedroll, saddle bags, Horse (named Strider), $10
Height: 5′ 8″ Age: 22
Appearance: beard, the build of someone who is used to riding a horse.
Bio: born in the Shenandoah Valley and Civil War veteran (Confederate). James joined the army around the age of 16 and mustered out sometime before the official surrender at Appomattox. He had grown up around cattle but after the War, decided that rather than continue being a cowboy at home, he would try his luck out west on a ranch.
Habits: Smokes a pipe and appreciates whiskey. He always remembers to say his morning and evening prayers that his mother taught him. He’s an Anglican, but maybe he’ll start to think differently out west. He keeps a clean room but is forgetful on food, which is curious for a man who is in the saddle herding cattle. He can read.
Philo Jurament (NPC)
Equipment: Shotgun +50 rounds, Whinchester +50 rounds, pair of ivory handled converted Colt Dragoons to take ammunition in gun holster (right and Belt (left) +24 rounds in the belt and another 56 in his saddle bags, Tomahawk, Matches, Cigarillos, Saddle bags (with other basic equipment), Horse (named Horse) Bowie knife, bedroll, Small metal container with strong tequila in it, $10
Height: 6′ 2″ Age: 26
Appearance: Sandy-Brown hair, blue eyes, about 6’2″ he wears a sort of trapper jacket. One of his large .44 calibre six-guns on his right hip in its holster, and the other Mexican style in a front/left holster that is cut down so the gun basically looks as if it’s just held by the belt. He also has a bowie knife on the gun belt, on his left side.
Ex-Indian Scout for the Confederate army. He was raised by Apaches after being sold to them as a boy by his own alcoholic father. Generally ornery and laconic. He smokes cigarillos but only a couple a day.
The Situation
It is 1867, two years after the end of the Civil War. The small town of Silver Hole is a mining town with some small silver deposits, on the edge of the frontier. The mine is not large enough to make the town prosperous, but it nevertheless provides enough to make the place tolerable, with all the basic amenities, two hotel/saloons, a local bar, various shops, a regular stage coach that goes to snowdrift falls twice a week, passing by Fort Bellamy and Lookout point, both army outposts that keep the occasional Indian raids at bay in the general area.
Snowdrift Falls is about 400 miles by stage coach and the nearest actual town served by railway. To the North is a mountain range, the south being gradually drier and more despotic and canyon-like. The Takumseh bridge being a case in point, straddles a canyon of over a dozen metres in height and about twice that in length, in order to allow the stage coaches to cross the river on the way to Lookout point, a small army outpost that is basically an extension of Fort Bellamy, a larger and better equipped Army location.
Last night, a very strange situation took place. Emily Lightfoot, the local hat-maker, went to deliver her latest order to the farmhouse of John and Mary McMasters, but when she arrived there, a large rabid bear had broken into the farmhouse and killed some animal in it. Mary managed to run out of the house just in time for Emily to see her and get her aboard her one horse carriage. The two women rushed back to Silver Hole, abandoning John McMasters to his fate, because he had been ill with a fever upstairs.
In the morning, fearing the worst, the ladies had returned with two deputies (Jim and Bob), but when they arrived at the farmhouse, they found John still with a heavy fever upstairs, alive and otherwise unhurt. The main room of the home was half-destroyed and had a large pool of blood and blood spatter in it, where the ladies assumed the mad bear had eaten the buck they had seen it drag in. However, no part of the dead animal, or the bear, could be found. They took John back to Silver Hole in a carriage as he was delirious.
The local doctor, explained worriedly he did not have the skills to cure the man and they should immediately make for Snowdrift falls.
James, being an adept coach driver volunteered to run John to Snowdrift falls, a trip of at least three days even if one rode hard all the way. Leroy Gray also volunteered to ride shotgun in case of bandits or marauding Indians, and as Mary McMasters offered pay, so did Jack O’Trady, a recent arrival, and an irishman to boot, however he had been in town long enough for people to know aside occasionally needing a bit of “hair o’ th’ dog” in the morning, he was a good worker. As far as irishmen go anyway.
When everything was set and the men were about to set off, a young private came thundering into town to say that the Takumseh bridge had been burnt down by a band of Indians and possibly Mexican. There had been a fight with a patrol from Lookout point, and he had barely got away to this side of the bridge, before it collapsed. The route was impassable.
The local old drunk at the saloon where all this was being discussed mumbled something about the old Indian trail of Frozen Tears, that was a more direct route to snowdrift falls but had not been used by anyone in living memory as far as anyone knew. There was a number of legends that no one who tried survived it and that giants lived in the snow-capped mountains in that area. As the conversation as to what to do carried on, a man known as Philo Jurament, an Ex-Scout in the Confederate Army stood up, walked over, and said he had come to Silver Hole via that path and it was passable for a carriage. The saloon went silent as people wondered if he was just lying or if he had actually done it. The man tended to be a loner and kept to himself, he had not long been in town, and other than playing the occasional hand of poker in the saloon he didn’t mix much with the locals. Even so, Mary McMasters was desperate and offered to pay half the man’s salary on the spot, and a more generous half on the delivery of her husband to the doctors in Snowdrift falls. The man accepted and also said the trip could be done in only two days if they pushed hard, as it was only 200 miles or so by going this route. As afternoon was already fast-approaching, the men all decided to leave forthwith.
They left on a covered carriage where John was bundled into a bed in back of it, Jack rode in the back with him to ensure John was as comfortable as could be, and tending to his need for water, food and so on. James and Leroy rode up front, James driving the carriage and Leroy with his rifle across his lap. Philo out front on his grey mottled horse (which he called horse) leading the way to the path no other man had used in living memory.
They had basic equipment, bedrolls, food and water for four days journey, although they expected to be able to make it in two by keeping up a blistering pace throughout.
In UK as of today…
You can’t own a chicken unless you register it.
Seriously.
Although the vast majority of respondents to the consultation believed there was no need to change the existing registration requirements, Defra, Nature Scot and Natural Resources Wales have instead decided to follow responses which support these new requirements. The new registration requirements should lead to more efficient progress when carrying out the required surveillance to allow disease control zones to be lifted after an outbreak of Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza (HPAI), and this could benefit the game industry going forwards.
And yes, this applies even to single chickens.
But trust the government. This, along with the recent “scandal” that has been exposed by various farmers that are being offered money by the government to NOT produce food, along with the raising of food prices and reduction of decent and unpolluted sources of food that are ABSENT mRNA “vaccines” is ALL for your own good.
Not about controlling you at all.
The chemtrails too. All for your own better health and freedom in the utopia that is Western Demon-cracy.
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By G | 30 September 2024 | Posted in Social Commentary