I got the idea for this thread from a post I made in "The Internet is dead, long live the Internet" thread by EndtheMadnessNow here on R-N. I've been posting it all over including ATS.

If you participate in a private secure local area network or mesh network, Nord VPN wants you to use their app instead.

People trust Nord VPN to keep their internet activities secure and anonymous, so why not let them direct and control your LAN or decentralized mesh network? Well, because it will no longer be local or decentralized will it? If one device in your already established LAN or mesh-net is using the Nord VPN Meshnet app, the entire network has potentially been compromised. It could be infiltrated and under central control. Diabolical and insidious, it's evil genius. In fact, if you do a search with the keyword "mesh net" to understand mesh networking, Nord VPN comes up first and dominates the first page. 

Quote:What is Meshnet?
Meshnet is a way to safely access other devices, no matter where in the world they are. Once set up, Meshnet functions just like a secure local area network (LAN) — it connects devices directly. This makes Meshnet a great fit for activities that require high speed, low latency, and advanced security — activities like file sharing, active work collaborations, and intense multiplayer gaming.

. . . Meshnet: simply convenient Here are just some great things that Meshnet offers for your online life. Link up to 60 devices Create secure private networks from up to 10 devices you own and up to 50 external devices. No configuration needed Simply switch Meshnet on and invite your friends to your network using their unique Meshnet name. Traffic routing Let your friends access the internet using your device’s IP address — just like if you were a VPN server.

Quote:Is Meshnet free?
Yes, Meshnet comes free — simply download and start using it! Meshnet was created by NordVPN, so all NordVPN users can find Meshnet in their NordVPN apps for every major platform.

Can I share files with someone who doesn’t have Meshnet?
No, but anyone can download and use Meshnet for free. Sharing files costs nothing with Meshnet.

My case last night was another case of human trafficking. There are as many reasons as there are stars at how people get caught in this trap.

Trying to make sense out of it seems impossible. Mainly because most of the time the victim is looking for someone that is going to do something for them they feel they cannot do for themselves.

I think a huge way to avoid some of the traps is for people to learn and to teach their children that there no knight in shinning armor. There is no "man" that is going to fix them, the world, or others. There is no "man" that is going to save them or the world. When Jesus returns it will be known to all at once and every knee will bow.

Those that are being led to believe that any "man" is God, Savior, or Divine, it is a cult. As shown in this video, the number of those fooled, brainwashed, or supporting the lie, means nothing. A lie, a deception, is a lie and a deception, no matter how it is promoted or dressed.

This video is just one in a million. 

I found this interesting. At least something to think about.

My pet peeve is people blaming everything and anything on others, without ever stopping to think about how their personal thoughts, beliefs, and actions may have contributed to the problem.

So this resonated with me a little bit.

Quote:Picture this, I'm chillin' at lunch with some very successful people, right? We're shootin' the breeze, sharing stories, and guess what? We all realize something crazy—each one of us has something we can only blame our dads for. Can you believe it?

Documentary film featuring Dr. Michael S. Heiser (biblical scholar who passed away recently) - explores the unexpected intersection between UFOs, alien abductions, US military & Nazis, Roswell cover-up, the world of angels and demons (Nephilim/Anakim/Rephaim), and the ancient texts that speak of them.  Really fascinating lecture that kept me engaged for over an hour.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yommswGy...CBSDetroit  I thought this was pretty cool. Its the largest collection that I have ever seen. And it contains a Superman#1 

Quote:The Blob Begins to Quiver

“…the Permanent State lacks the courage to take hard decisions – to say to Moscow, ‘Let us put this unfortunate episode (Ukraine) behind us. Dig out those draft treaties you wrote in December 2021, and let’s see how we can work together, to restore some functionality again to Europe’.” — Alasdair Crooke

When you deny what is self-evident, you are at war with reality, and that never ends well. This is the ultimate disposition of our country’s years-long misadventure in maximum dishonesty. The American administrative Blob has not just lied about everything it does, but used the government machinery at hand to destroy everything it touches in a terminal-hysterical effort to cover up its misdeeds — including especially its crimes against its own people.

Get this: there is no way that Ukraine can avoid defeat in its US-provoked struggle with Russia. Russia has every advantage. It is next door to Ukraine. It has robust arms production capacity. The terrain of the war is its own historic “borderland,” which it has controlled since the 18th century, except for the past thirty years when Ukraine functioned as Grift Central for US military contractors and their political enablers. Despite massive arms assistance from the US and grudging contributions from the NATO contingent in Europe, there is almost nothing left of the Ukrainian military in troops, equipment, and munitions. Ukraine will return eventually to demilitarized “borderland” status.

What are NATO’s alternatives now? It can try to return to negotiation. Russia has no reason to trust that process, given how the Minsk 1 and 2 accords worked out (NATO and the US willfully and dishonestly voided them). The US and NATO could send their own troops into Ukraine, but that would be suicide, considering the alliance’s arms and munitions drawdown and America’s feminized army. The US could go a little further and provoke a nuclear exchange (suicide by other means) — and given the level of terminal-hysterical insanity in the US Blob, that’s not out of the question.

One likely, reality-based alternative is to stand by and let Russia complete its Special Military Operation to pacify and neutralize Ukraine. The prevailing theory is that this would be the end of America’s world dominance militarily, and effectively the end of NATO, but also the end financially for the US, as the non-West abandons the dollar. In that scenario, the BRICs dump their trillions in US bond holdings, sending all that putative “money” back to America, stoking a king-hell inflation, effectively bankrupting us. It would be the final fruit of the disastrous “Joe Biden” regime imposed on us via election fraud by the Blob: the US reduced in a few short years to a broke, socially disordered, marginalized power susceptible to its own political breakup — not a tantalizing outcome, but perhaps better than turning the planet Earth into a smoldering ashtray.

That outcome would force our country to turn inward and face its own stupendous failures of honor, decency, and integrity. It would be the end of the Blob’s hegemony inside the USA. The question is whether the Blob sets America’s house on fire in the attempt to save itself and escape a legal accounting for its crimes. One kindling stack already burning is the pile-up of jive prosecutions aimed at Mr. Trump. You know that the attempt to kick him off the game-board using Special Counsel Jack Smith may easily lead to severe civil disorder, and possibly a counter-coup, a US first!

The current Mar-a-Lago “Doc Box” case is as much a complete fabrication as were RussiaGate and Impeachment Number One — Mr. Trump’s telephone inquiry to Ukraine about the Biden family grifting operations there, now firmly documented to be true. An upright judge would summarily dismiss the Mar-a-Lago case and slam sanctions on the US attorneys involved, including disbarment and criminal investigation for mounting a maliciously fraudulent prosecution. AG Merrick Garland and his deputy, Lisa Monaco, obviously would have some ‘splainin’ to do, possibly before juries.

A long list of public figures populating the Blob await a reckoning: Hillary and Bill Clinton and their retainers, Barack Obama and retinue, John Brennan, James Clapper, James Comey, Christopher Wray (plus Rosenstein, Strzok, McCabe, Carlin, Ohr, Mueller, Weissmann, Horowitz, Atkinson, Ciaramella, Vindman), Rep. Adam Schiff, Senator Mark Warner, William Barr, Avril Haines, Marie Yovanovitch, William Burns, James Boasberg, Marc Elias, Michael Bromwich, David Laufman, Alejandro Mayorkas, Xavier Baccera, Anthony Fauci, Rochelle Walensky, Francis Collins, Lloyd Austin. Mark Milley, Antony Blinken, Jake Sullivan, Ron Klain, Nancy Pelosi, Liz Cheney… the list goes way on, but there’s a start.

     The weeks of summer 2023 are the fulcrum for a great public attitude adjustment. The Blob’s psy-ops are finally failing among just enough of the formerly mind-fucked to tip the national consensus against the gang behind all this treasonous political depravity. Even the so-called mainstream media is running scared. If they happened to turn in a desperate act of self-preservation, it will be all over for the Blob.

Edward Cartwright absently tossed a handful of corn towards the expectant chickens and wondered if today he'd find
the effort to finish the coop he'd half-built before Lillian's disappearance. Tugging closed the embroidered seed bag his
wife had sewn for him when he first bought the birds in Weathercote, he still found it hard to believe that two seasons
had passed since she'd heard one of the hens squawking, stepped out of the kitchen door and vanished.

A small search party was mustered from the nearby hamlet of Weathercote and along with his son Mathew, the wary
party scoured the surrounding woods until darkness demanded they suspended their hunt for the love of Edward's life.
When harvest time came around, the craggy-faced man agreed with the eight villagers who'd combed four leagues in
every direction of his farm that it was time for them to return to their own homes and move on. Edward had watched
the men leave and wondered if he would ever be able to do the same.

They'd married twenty summers ago and it hadn't been long before Mathew and then Marjorie came along to help work
the acreage piece of land he'd bought when Edward realised he loved the young flaxen-haired colleen from Flixton Moor.
A handsome son and a beautiful daughter, both married off to good families and now their father's only companions
were the ten feathered fowl pecking in the dirt around his feet.

"So what happened to her?" Edward murmured vacantly as he turned to return to the cabin he'd built with his own two
hands But the wattle-shaking chickens failed to relate what they'd seen in the dusty yard on that life-changing day and
continued to focus on probing for their breakfast. In a small copse only a decent stroll from the village of Weathercote,
the remains of a woman's mutilated body lay beneath a large growth of Hosta.
Mrs Cartwright had been the first victim of The Cold Caller.
.................................................................

To the small woman in the big hat, the wet Timothy grass lining the wheelbarrow-wide track out of the fishing village
of Shellport was a symbolic representation of how she felt as it washed away the faint whiff of standing water from
her bare feet. It wasn't much, but the cool feeling around her toes was a welcomed tonic that went a long way to clear
the doldrums she'd been mired in since her encounter with the malodorous bogie who'd stolen Daisy Manning.

The rain had eased and the scudding grey clouds coming inland seemed to have unloaded the majority of their cargo
just before they came ashore. With her trusty canvas satchel tapping lightly on her thigh, she mentally agreed with
herself that this rarely-used trail up among the overgrown dunes and out towards Calder's Way would provide enough
time to repair her sullied spirit after the recent undertaking of removing of the distasteful Mistle-Hob from the swaying
bed of reeds below.

The picayune figure paused for a moment at the apex of the hill and tugging the rim of her headwear, sucked in the
chilly salty breeze and forced a smile on her little face that failed to reach her eyes. The troubling calvary was behind
her now and heading for a more contemporary type of highway, the travelling artisan of old-style majick known as
Peggy Powler silently rejoiced that she was exiting away the coastal community during the winter weather.

The little Witch's satisfaction of leaving was no reflection on the quiet harbour village or its affable residents, it was
simply that Peggy had always believed the shores of the Great Sea were for warmer times, not when storms lashed
the seaboard on a daily basis. Although -Peggy had to admit to her  bleak surroundings, bodily wrestling the girl from
the ditch-Goblin was a strong component to helping her departure.

The remnants of the altercation with the iniquitous bog spirit and the eventual recovery of Daisy Manning had taken
it out of her. Even now, peering down at the undulating stretch of green-blue reeds that seemed to be creeping ever
closer to the Manning residence, the subdued bare-footed half-Fae made a silent pledge that once a quiet place
appeared beside the well-trodden turnpike, Peggy would spend some time repairing her flagging spirits by means of
some much-needed shut-eye and tad of self-reflection.
.................................................................

As the driving rain continued to beat its tattoo on the scabrous bark of the hollow willow tree, Peggy leaned forward
in the darkness of the willow's cavity and gently abetted a bohemian draught to draw life into some foraged kindling.
Wisps of smoke from the weak campfire sought escape from the deciduous husk and found dilution in the night's
tempest outside. "Come on yer' bugger, give me a flame" the shivering sibyl murmured to the sputtering fuel as she
ruminated on the last couple of days.

It had been only after the pair of exhausted females had scrambled out of the foul-smelling reedbed that a memory
from Peggy's past had surfaced just like the stinking oily substance that materialised in the water around her ankles
as she throttled the last breath out of the young girl's captor. It was the question an old man had warned of when
she was still losing her yearning for the Carnival and her aunt's devil-may-care commentary.

Many of the concerned maritime members of Shellport had been waiting on the nearest point of the harbour and
seeing Peggy and Daisy's appearance from the man-high sedges, apron-flapping women with warpaint of flour
on their faces and hand-calloused piscators of lobsters had raced down into the mud to retrieve one of their own.

Of course, afterwards during the many toasts in the village's only tavern, Peggy Powler's name was celebrated in
gratitude and the drained necromancer had accepted the pummels on her back and politely refused the requests
to refill her flagon. Round ruddy-faced women loomed into the tired Witch's view with promises that she'd never
go hungry during her travels and the pile of wax paper-wrapped foods next to the unwanted beer were testament
to those affirmations.

Stealthily creeping out of the cacophonous inn, Peggy breathed in deeply as she stared at the indifferent winter
moon above and just like the pedestrian click of the Deathwatch Beetle, she posed the question that Myrddin the
greatest of all Wizards had once told her she would have to ask herself during her journeys across the land.
She knew it was there to be confronted.

During the battle for Daisy Manning, the Mistle-Hob had inadvertently hit a nerve by suggesting Peggy's reason
for meeting the loathsome Imp holding the terrified girl by the hair was because she was an outsider like himself.
After several fruitless attempts with majick to weaken the laughing kobold's grip on the half-conscious lassie, the
immediate situation had required Peggy to physically attack the bugbear and get it to loosen its choking grasp.

It was a fight she knew she couldn't win and only when a large rock has suddenly swooped in over her shoulder
and pounded the creature into obliviousness, did the gasping and soaked augurer realise it was Daisy who had
saved them both. Yes, there'd been failures to oust the multitude of monsters Peggy had waged war with and
in many of those occasions, assistance from human and Fae-alike had been a major contributing factor.

But as she plunged the senseless Swamp-Goblin's head into the putrid brackish water and watched the last of
the bubbles break the surface, Peggy felt another type of vapour had been released, a breath carrying a question
born not of a need to know, but from doubt. Daisy had saved the day, the youngster who cavorts around drying
lobster pots and pleased old-timers by listening to their tales of the Great Sea, she was the one who's tankard
should be brimming. The cold moon looked back and its silence was condemning.

Coaxing the dank tinder to ignite, the little wandering Witch mused on the idea that maybe she had become an
albatross to those who she believed once needed her help and Myrddin's warning had truly surfaced just like the
dead Mistle-Hob's battered face had done from its final baptism. But resisting the need to return to her earlier
doldrums, Peggy's mind sought other reasons to explain a possible need for retirement.

The flourishing of the new religion was also a factor to be deliberated when surveying the possible abandonment
of her vocation. Churches to the voguish denomination were cropping up in many of villages Peggy had visited
lately and even though a cool taciturnity existed between the clergymen and herself, Peggy had often wondered
when the tides would shift and the old ways become obsolete.

Gazing around at the disintegrating version of a Witch's chancel and her aches from dealing with the dyke-roaming
brigand of Shellport, maybe that time had finally arrived to call it a day and hang up her satchel for good. With the
fragile fire slowly coming to life, the lonely woman in the rotted willow leaned back into the moving shadows and
allowed sleep to soothe her worries.

This is a documentary of our government's business in protecting us from our bad choices.

And any time you choose to go against what is profitable to big corporations then our government decides you are bad.

We make choices that we are allowed to make. Any choices we make that benefits big business almost never benefits us. It they are from the government, they will not be there to help "us".

The Illusion of Democracy: Who Really Controls our Lives?

Quote:    Life is about choice. What we eat, what we read, who we elect; every day we make choices that determine how we want to live. But what if these choices are just an illusion? In an era where regulations and red tape rule every industry, where lobby groups and big business wield more influence than ever before, our daily choices have become increasingly limited. Focusing on key areas such as food, medicine, finance, and media, Freedom From Choice provides viewers with a glimpse at the myriad of ways their lives are being dictated, and tells us who stands to gain. Director: Tim Delmastro Full Documentary Original Title: Freedom from Choice (2014)

Hi all 

This video has some very interesting items/discoveries that were found. One an ancient nuclear power plant.
They mention a book from the nineties , that I will be getting. 
It would be hard to fake 50k statues, but who knows. 

https://www.bitchute.com/video/pIGVzoID9xMF/

I have nothing to say other than listen to this and tell us what you think of the new words of the National Anthem.