Giuseppe Filotto Cross

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White Noise to wipe out the Amish?

Point of note, I have not personally verified the image below, but I believe it to be fairly accurate. If not, let me know.

Either way, the film White Noise is a real thing and people from the town of East Palestine were used as extras in it. The film premiered in Netflix a short time ago and the plot is about a train derailment that causes a toxic air spill.

It’s just a few too many coincidences for my tastes, though Taleb probably thinks this is “just fine.”

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The Errors of Nicholas Taleb

I had issue with Taleb from the very first time I read his books, some 13 years ago or more, as can be seen here.

Supposed to be really good at math but is scared.

See that italised caption? That’s a clue as to what I think is wrong with Nicky Nassim there. And it more directly identifies the issue I discussed at the post from 13 years ago.

But let us first count the ways in which he is wrong.

Then we will look at why he makes these mistakes.

And finally we will take a bird’s eye view of his errors and what the real, and much broader, issue is.

Fair enough it is twitter, so I won’t take him to task concerning his initial statement that things perfect by nature over millions of years are “safer”. I mean, it all depends what the organism is. Go bleeding into the right South American river and the Piranhas that have evolved there for a long time, will be anything but safe to you. But I get what he’s trying to say while limited to 140 characters. And insofar as he means it, he is correct.

Now we move to his later text, where he is wearing a black background. Perhaps to represent grieving over his now defunct reputation as a brilliant statistician and very cultured person.

Error n. 1

Viruses have multiplicative risks.

Is it even true? Mostly no. It is not. In fact, you could argue that over the long haul, the risks of viruses not only become nil or close to nil, but enhance and strengthen the entire human race. The Red Indians used to die of what Europeans called the common cold, and they did so for a while, but today, they get ill and recover from it just like the rest of us.

Furthermore, a virus that really will wipe out all humanity is, in my considered —and statistically aware— opinion, impossible to come about through any natural processes. Nature has a way of ensuring life forms survive even massively bad events, and that includes asteroids (yes, yes, I know, the dinosaurs, but I have a theory on that which we will explore another time). Viruses, at least natural ones, arise from the same environment in which we live, so it does not make any sense that they would be so lethal as to wipe out ALL hosts. A percentage of the hosts will always be immune or develop immunity, or somehow survive. So, while if you take a short-time preference view of things Taleb’s point looks “smart”. If you take the long view, which he references in his first tweet, then he is simply flat out wrong and you could even argue that viruses are a good thing as they cull the weak and least “fit” from the herd. Which has always been what nature does to retain a natural balance.


Error n. 2

Vaccines don’t.

Again, wrong. Of course, we now know with absolute certainty that the genetic serum clott shots —intentional mislabelled as “vaccines” when they are really a depopulationist’s wet dream as well as possibly the nasty wedge of transhumanism— are really bad news, for each individual that took them, but that’s not the immediate point. The point is that if the serums are bad news (which they are and which anyone who spent five minutes researching mRNA technology online at the time would have known) the image is not limited to the individual that croacks, but it extends to his whole family, his work and the general infrastructure of society. Furthermore, we know (and have known for some 20 years) that mRNA “vaccines” don’t work for their intended purpose, are very unstable, and in fact are very likely to cause Antibody Dependent Enhancement, which ultimately kills you when you get re-infected by “wild” versions of the virus (i.e. that have naturally mutated), See here, for the full explanation couched in “but maybe…” wishful thinking; from way back in 2005. And keep in mind they have been trying to get this stuff to work since the 1990s.

Here is the key extract in case you don’t want to bother with the whole thing:

Synthetic peptides corresponding to IDS could induce high titers of S protein–specific antibodies, but none of these antibodies possesses neutralizing activity. These findings suggest that the IDS in S protein may not induce neutralizing antibodies. Whether these antibodies enhance infection by heterologous SARS-CoV strains or mediate harmful immune responses is unclear. The S protein of FIPV expressed by recombinant vaccinia can cause antibody-dependent enhancement of disease if vaccinated animals are subsequently infected with wild-type virus (32). Our previous studies on HIV-1 showed that antibodies against some immunodominant epitopes in the HIV-1 envelope glycoprotein could enhance infection by heterologous HIV-1 strains (33). Most recently, Yang et al. (6) demonstrated that the polyclonal and monoclonal antibodies against S protein of the late SARS-CoV (Urbani strain) could neutralize infection by the relevant late SARS-CoV strains. However, these antibodies enhanced infection by an early human SARS-CoV isolate (GD03T0013) and the civet SARS-CoV–like viruses. These investigators have shown that the ACE2-binding domain mediates the antibody-dependent enhancement of civet SARS-CoV–like virus entry (6). Theoretically, some antibodies to the ACE2-binding domain may enhance infection if these antibodies closely mimic the receptor ACE2 and induce similar conformational changes, as the receptor likely does.

Plus, we have also known for ages, and confirmed it again with the covid genetic serums, that mRNA “vaccines” in fact fuck up your DNA permanently, so they absolutely are something that cannot be undone.

Knowing all this (which again, could be found with a minimal of research online) it becomes pretty clear that the genetic serums were extremely risky at best, and given that the depopulationist scum pushing them, were totally immune from penalties if they happened to be murderous experiments, would have anyone who can actually DO risk analysis, not take them. At all. Because, again, the cascading effect of mass die-offs absolutely have multiplicative risks. Potentially civilisation-ending levels of multiplicative risk in fact.

As it turns out, there is now also at least some evidence that the genetic serum shots cause a shedding that can also affect underused healthy purebloods, so in fact, the things seem to have multiplicative risk both along a vector that Taleb completely missed, though it was absolutely predictable, and the very same vector he is “considering”; though to be fair this one was only theoretically predictable.

Error n. 3

Evaluate the risks of the vaccine *to you* against the risk of covid *to others* the 2-5 people you might infect and the 2-5 people they might may each infect…

This is really the worst and most unforgivable error, because it’s just bad elementary level math.

We knew from very early on that Covid had a chance of killing you that was less than 1%. And then basically pretty much only if you had serious comorbidities. We also knew the information already laid out above that for at least 30 years, mRNA “vaccines” were thought of as too dangerous, unstable and controversial for use in humans. So you have a maximum of 1% chance of death against something that they couldn’t;t get to work for 3 decades that was being pushed by globalist depopulationists like Billy the Goat Gates, who funded the research into the bioweapon of covid 19 via the Pirbright institute and did event 201, which was a gaming out of the whole pandemic before covid 19 hit the scene. And all this was known too, as you can see from my post here, on the 29th February 2020.

So which kind of risk analyst would vote on the side of the genetic serums?

A really, really bad one, that’s what kind.

Conclusions

Remember how I said at the start we would look at why he makes these errors? Well, here it is. Taleb has presented himself, and been vastly accepted as being this incisive intellectual who uses his laser like objectivity to make a lot of money in trading some positions that are considered “bad” for most days but that have a likelihood of eventually coming true. A more complex version of betting on say red at roulette and doubling your bet if you lose and continually doubling your bet until black comes out. Except that, as with roulette, the game is fixed and the croupier can make black come out 15 times in a row if he wants. So his supposedly Olympian level of detachment is really only just a lucky guess or three that got him enough money to make his name. What really drives Taleb, which comes across if you look at his demeanour, his writing style, his twitter, is that, he has some kind of chip on his shoulder. He simply protesteth too much about being from the Levant. And that drives him to be seen as excelling the brash Americans that surround him, or the less than refined Europeans that don’t come from the Levant. That chip on his shoulder, ultimately means he acts based on his emotive impulses, not rational computer-like math. That’s my assessment and you’re free to disagree, of course, but I called it more than 13 years ago, and that’s not a coincidence.

Now as to the much broader issue that causes him to make such errors. I gave a hint of it in the caption below his tweets. If you are actually really good at math, fear is not really a big factor in your life. For many, many, many reasons. All of them related to probability, which I am actually really quite good at doing on the fly, and —far more importantly— in the real world context, not the theoretical world “context”. It’s why I have made life decisions (repeatedly) that seem absurdly risky and came out the other side with a “lucky” result. Do I always get it right? No. Of course not. But most times I do. I’d say my success rate is about a 7 out of ten in a bad streak , dropping to 6.5 or so in my younger days, and probably more like an 8 out of ten on average, with some streaks of 9.5 out of ten at times.

It is also why I could repeatedly make profit margins for my employers that they could never understand. I literally would get double the expected and maximum margin than any other contracts manager in the firm, and some of these were multi-billion dollar a year firms, and the directors above me simply couldn’t follow my reasoning. Even when I explained it to them in as simple a way as I could make it. Colour-coded charts and all. And as a result, believe it or not, they often fired me, because since they could not follow my process, and they also assumed they were smarter than me (all but one, and he was told to fire me too anyway because I had embarrassed the group director for not being able to do percentages) they went on to assume I must have done something illegal, or not kosher in some way, or maybe I was lying and hiding problems. None of these things were true, as the collected profits would always demonstrate, but they simply could not reason as I do.

They were, and are, trained to work the minutiae. The standard operating procedure must be followed, and so on. That is not how I looked at any project. My perspective was simply, ok. They are aiming to hit target X. On a project this size, 2X is obviously doable and maybe even 3X.

On one project of little more than a million pounds I made a 34% profit margin. There was absolutely nothing dodgy or illegal or even slightly bent in my work. In fact I gave full break-downs of all the calculations and prices. Literally no one could find any fault with any of my methodologies and in fact the client was ecstatically happy because we finished on time (rare in the construction industry) and they wanted to give us more work as a result.

The financial director of the firm I worked for was far from happy. He too could not follow the process I did and he was extremely worried (according to him) that I would upset the client by “eye-gouging them”. And then he went and made sure they didn’t give us any more work because he had a grudge with my counterpart at the client’s side over a bill of £300 from 5 years earlier, and pretty much called him a cunt over the phone about it. At final settlement. But he was smarter than me, you see. And he was doing this job for 25 years, you see. So I couldn’t possibly have done a better job after 2 years there than he had done in 25 years. No, no. It won’t do.

My grandfather was right, math is not an opinion, but unfortunately every asshole has an opinion and they value it far more than math.

Taleb does not know how to apply the math he knows or learnt in the context of the real world. It is the result of the mechanisation of humanity by Satanic infiltrations over centuries. Most notably the Protestant Rebellion, which has gradually secularised and made worldly Christianity (Catholicism being the only Christianity), and in doing so also reduced the Protestant minute to essentially a Calvinistic process of binary thinking that excludes the humanity, charity and love out of life. They abandon and reject reason in favour of a false sense of certainty that is ultimately pure illusion. I don’t expect you will have read my blog post linked above from 13 years ago, so allow me to quote myself:

The problem I have with these two types of author is that in a subtle but insidious way, their work, which is engaging, mostly correct, based on sound science and entertaining too, implies by a kind of induction that most of life is reducible to a set of formulaic behaviour and that some “control” can be exerted on aspects of life that not only cannot really be controlled, but SHOULD NOT be controlled. I kind of blame the upcoming generation of social robots sort of on them. And Taleb in particular if he’s reading this will probably be tearing out the last few hair he has before possibly hiring hit-men to ruin my life, because his whole message (secretly, because he’s a contrarian remember) seems to me to be that you should enjoy life, read widely, and have the opportunity to do well by exploiting the greed and stupidity of that very hated class of financial animal, the banker/trader. Nevertheless, hit-men and hair notwithstanding, I do think that someone who takes all Taleb has to say at face value and tries to organise his life that way, will miss out on some spectacular, interesting and ultimately GOOD life experiences. If I had to summarise it I would say these people promote an Obsessive Compulsive Culture.

Drool a bit of milkshake on your shirt-front and say how much you enjoy the sunshine because it’s hotter than the moon rays and these people might have a brain aneurysm. But at least I like them (or at least I think I would like them, I’ve not met either of these authors) as people, and I believe they are honest in their endeavours and share their work mostly as a wish also to improve mankind’s lot (I expect Taleb would argue vehemently against this).

And that observation has not improved over time. In fact, my esteem for Nikki Taleb has considerably declined since then.

But hey, he’s a wealthy, swarthy, Levantine, and I am just a poor, Warlord reduced to farmer, olivine skinned Venetian, so you know, I am sure his being able to hum Mozart makes up for it. Or something.

PS: My friend Adam also informs me Taleb bought a Tesla. I chose to not investigate this vicious potential fact any further. One really shouldn’t kick a man when he’s already so down he’s incapable of doing basic math.

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Who says you can’t turn a party girl into a good wife

It’s quite surreal to see my wife put on some rap song to make our new 2 month old daughter fall asleep, which she does, while she sings along to it.

She literally knows the words to just about any song that comes on. Then she modifies them for the new circumstances.

Tom Jones’ Sex Bomb becomes:

Wet Bum, Wet Bum,

You gotta wet bum,

And you-can-count-on-mummy-when-you-need to-clean-it-up

Wet bum, wet bum,

You got a wet bum,

But your mama’s gonna clean it up

If you know the words to the original and the tune, you’ll see it works.

N.E.R.D. ‘S Lapdance becomes:

Oh baby you want me?

Oh baby you want me?

Oh baby you want me, well you can get this boobie juice here for free!

And Fuck the Pain Away by Peaches is almost unchanged:

Sucking on my titties like you wanted me, wanted me, wanted me all the time.

Check out my chrissy behind

And here she is rapping away to Vanilla Ice, which, astonishingly makes the baby fall asleep.

You can hear her laugh-smiling as our daughter begins to fall asleep

I mean, she did work as a Promo Girl for a nightclub in Spain and again in London, where the basic idea was to entice people into the club, and/or get them to spend thousands on the same crappy drinks you could buy at literally less than a twentieth the price at an off licence (you’d think men only, but you’d be surprised).

It was a classy affair, not like she danced on the bar in skimpy clothes the club sold, and that she also customised herself with scissors so the customers wanted not just the same club logo shirts and hot pants they sold, but the ones that looked like hers.

Tequila shots and fast moving scissors with strobe lights and the club’s theme song playing at deafening level:

It’s gettin’ hot in here (So hot)
So take off all your clothes (Ayy)
I am gettin’ so hot (Uh, uh, uh, uh)
I wanna take my clothes off (Oh)
It’s gettin’ hot in here (So hot)

You probably wouldn’t immediately assume this is where you’d find the right girl to get baptised as a hardcore Sedevacantist Catholic with. Then get confirmed, married, and make three children in 5 years with her. It would have been four but she miscarried the first. Finding myself doing a baptism on her belly at home, when she thought something was wrong, and holding her hand and later holding her, in the hospital, when it was clear the baby was gone, thankfully after only about 6 weeks of pregnancy, is not a feeling I’d wish on anyone, but we found out after it happened that it’s quite common, even if people don’t talk about it much.

From party girl things, to changing nappies, making play-dough, taking them to the park, reading them stories, teaching them the alphabet and how to count, and playing them music and teaching them nursery rhymes, cooking for us all and feeding us and packing all their toys for the beach or worrying about them all having the things they need to run around like the little savages they are outside, even though she’s given up on making them wear shoes. I still harbour hope on that score, but then I do tend to take on impossible projects.

It’s not for everyone, the path that she and I took. As wild as she was, it’s probably inevitable that she could only be with someone like me, that surpassed her own transgressions and wildness, though, opposite to her, always clear-headed, which in a way might be worse.

But the fact is, that the first day I met her, I had a surreal experience that cannot be explained to others, but remains true nonetheless.

She was working as an estate agent by then, still wild every weekend, and it was in fact a Friday when I met her. I’d arranged with an estate agent to see some apartments and taken half a day off work. I had called the guy a few days before to make sure he had a good selection of places. He had assured me he would get keys for all the suitable properties.

I was earning decent money now and wanted to move to a nicer place and leave behind the small apartment I had lived in with my Italian wife, briefly, before we split up a couple of years earlier, and eventually divorced. I called the guy again just before I left work to make sure he had the keys, since, as a freelancer any time off I took I didn’t get paid. He assured me he had all the keys and he would meet me outside the Wapping tube station. So I went. Got there… no one. I called the guy up to see if maybe he was running late. In a bored voice he told me he wouldn’t be coming today because he didn’t have the keys. I told him where he could put his keys and hung up. Directly across the station was another estate agency. I could see through the window that the only guy in the office was playing solitaire on his desktop. I could actually see his screen.

I went in and said hello and that I wanted to view some properties.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m too busy right now, could you come back later.” It wasn’t a question and his glazed-over eyes returned to the screen.

“Yeah, I can see. Real busy.”

I left and decided my afternoon was shot anyway, so I may as well enjoy a walk. The area had a certain organic charm that is not too common in London, and despite it being early November the sun was out. As I walked along the cobbles I saw another estate agency in a pale yellow face brick building with the entrance being a diagonal that cut off the corner of the building. As I approached it I could see through the big glass window most estate agencies have a young woman sitting at her desk. She was stunning even at this distance, but I purposely looked away. I was here to find an apartment. I wanted to move. I didn’t want to be distracted by yet another pretty girl. It’s not like I was short of them anyway. But this one, she would be hard to ignore, so I looked away. Inside were other people. I’d just go the the blond man I could see sitting at another desk, and not even glance at the pretty woman. I’d not taken three steps into the place and realised the guy was as gay as a pink flamingo in a chicken coop. As I approached him he did that whole, look at you up and down thing in an obvious and obvioulsy gay way. I gritted my teeth and said “Hi, I’d like to see some apartments”. That’s how badly I wanted to avoid the girl. I hadn’t even snuck a peek to my right. He gave me the once over again, then waved in the direction of the same young woman, “She’ll look after you.”

Dammit. I tried. Really tried. Well, ok. Never mind. I can focus on the apartment, no matter how hot she looks.

“Hi, I wanted to see some apartments.”

She looks up, her eyes are brilliant blue, transfixing if I was a weaker man. That slightly bored, slightly dismissive, slightly lazy look that Estate Agents worldwide seem to have crosses her pretty face, and she says:

“What… now?”

Fuck this! Must have crossed my face in that instant.

“Yes, now.”

Without batting an eyelid her demeanour changes, she springs up, she has on a white blouse and faded jeans with black high heel shoes.

“Oh, okay, I think we have a place here, close by, let me get the keys and I’ll show you.”

She walks us across the road and leads the way up a flight of stairs. I can’t remember if it was already inside the apartment or on the way to some internal door to it. She opens doors, shows me rooms. Says what they are. I don’t speak. When we are done she leads the way back down the stairs. I am not trying to see it. I just do, she has a frilly white edge on her knickers. They are so close to the edge of the jeans waist I see it.

We step back outside in the sunlight and she asks, “So, what do you think?”

“I have no idea, I don’t even know how many rooms it has.”

She turns to look at me, but calm.

“You’re quite distracting.”

She doesn’t flinch. “Oh. Thanks.”

She keeps quiet a bit, as we walk back towards her office, then she says, “I think there is another place you’d like, but I am not sure if I can get the keys.”

I stay quiet again.

“We can try.” She poses it as a question with her eyes, so I nod.

She makes a call, she can’t get the keys, because they are from another agency that they sometimes work with, but she drives us on to the place anyway, then speaks to the security guys at the concierge desk. The poor bastards don’t stand a chance. She smiles, shakes her head, comes up with some story about how she had the keys but someone else at the office hasn’t returned yet and could she borrow the spare set to show her client the property. They happily hand the keys over, managing not to drool when they both smile like small children just being shown a huge candy.

She shows me this apartment that has a view over the Thames. It’s good. I like it. I say ok. but I want to get away from her now. She is distracting and I want to put my mind on other things. I don’t want to be doing that dance again with yet another pretty woman, plus she’s English, she looks beautiful, it’s true, but that’s probably it. I mean she’s smart, fast on her feet, but no, I want to stop doing this pussy-hunter thing, at least for today. I just want to move apartment and get a kind of clean slate. So I move away from her, heading for the door, I want to get out of here and away. She doesn’t follow. She stays looking out the big window at the river below us. Forcing me to turn and wait for her by the door.

“Seeing this,” she says, without turning to look at me, “doesn’t it make want to leave?”

I am taken slightly aback by her unusual and unprompted question.

“…Leave…London?”

Now she turns and looks at me. “Leave everything.”

And in that moment, when she turned to look at me, in one fraction of a second I got a flash-forward. I had flash-forwards a few times before, at least twice it saved my life. The image of a snake coming at me from behind, to bite me, and another time of someone at a concert running up behind me with a knife in-hand to stab me with. Both things would have happened if I had not acted on this image, premonition, flash-forward, call it what you want. But this was different.

I saw her in the now, but also in the far future, the same, the same distance between us, but old now, and with a hat on I think, and yet, her. Always her. The brilliant blue eyes, and smiling at me, which she wasn’t doing right now, not that way at least. A smile complicit of many years together, a love between us that encompassed all the insane, strange, beautiful, ugly, scary, things of our life and the ones we had lived through together, and between us, four lights, each a child, I could not say if male or female or what they would look like, just a kind of floating light, like disembodied souls to come. Her face, both beautiful as the here and now and also as the old and wrinkly. Like my own would be in that time, but still her. Always her, and beautiful even then, in old age.

It all happened in a tiny sliver of time, but it had within it, as if compressed into a laser bolt of information, years, decades, a lifetime. It was like a sledgehammer to my entire nervous system.

Years of karate in a hard dojo, other martial arts, and living and working with a gun for over a decade, meant my face didn’t show anything, but inside, it was as if I had taken a punch. One of those that makes you see blinking lights.

“Do you want me to show you the gardens?”

I nodded. Didn’t trust myself to speak for a second or two.

What the hell was that? Who is she?

We go outside and we look at the gardens laid out like a simple but tasteful patchwork of paths and trimmed hedges and reddish-brown face brick. And I get another flash. This one a memory. From about ten years earlier. I dreamt of this place. It makes no sense, but occasionally I have had dreams of something that eventually happens in the future. Sometimes I also have very vivid dreams with a really complicated plot that end, and then years later I have another dream that picks up where that one left off, like a kind of part II to a film. And being here, in this place, now I remembered the dream. This place, which I had never been to before, ever, for certain, was exactly as the dream I had. And I remembered that in the dream there was a statue of some old man, or Troll type thing, that said Old Father Thames on it. It was in the corner of the garden, you couldn’t see it from here. I asked her if she would just wait for me for a second, as I had to go and check something.

She said ok and I ran off. I went to that corner, and there it was.

Father Thames Statue

I knew enough about myself, because I had had premonitory dreams before, and flash-forwards —though usually only in life and death situations— that I knew I wasn’t crazy. Well, probably not anyway. I walked back. Calm now. Not even curious, just surprised. And she was waiting for me. Brown jacket zipped up now as the sun was going down and it was getting colder. A white scarf framed her smiling face with her impossibly blue eyes. And then I knew.

Oh. Ok. She’s the one.

And she was. Though it would be more than ten years later before we got together properly.

We had a very brief, half-drunk, half-night stand, a few months later, then invariably her, or me would end up with some person or other. She’d come close then pull away again and I told her repeatedly to either get in and find out or leave me be. But over the years she would always eventually get in touch again. Then I had a daughter, and I forgot about her. That marriage ended in spectacularly dramatic and ugly fashion. Then she had a daughter.

In 2016 I moved from London and was working in Venice and Kazakhstan, and flying all over the place, and we started to text each other on Telegram. Just philosophy and life stuff. I was on my own mostly, with an off and on again quasi-relationship with a woman that was probably possessed, and her own relationship was basically collapsing.

In 2017 I moved back to London and she helped me pick out furniture for the new apartment I was renting. She was on her own again.

We went to dinner. We kissed.

Then she disappeared for three days, as she usually did. I didn’t call or text her, I kind of knew how she was and I was tired of the ten year old dance.

She called after midnight one night.

“I tried to not think about you.” She said.

“How’s that going?” I asked. I was sitting at my dining room glass table, it was round and not very big, on the 16th floor, the view of the Thames and the lights below me. I had a tired hint of a smile on me. I wasn’t tired because of the late hour.

“Not good.” She paused a while. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“So? What you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know…”

“How long have you been doing this? You come close, then you pull away, then I tell you to get lost, then some weeks, or months, or years pass, then you get in touch and we do it all again. Aren’t you tired of it? I am.”

“Well? So what am I supposed to do? Just move in tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

She laughed.

“What you got to loose? Do it. Let’s find out once and for all if this thing is something or nothing. At least we’ll know.”

“Ok then.”

“You’re moving in tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

We both laughed. I told her I’d get a roast for lunch.

I expected her to just come for lunch, maybe spend some time. Talk. Maybe more. Maybe not. It was fine. I liked time with her, I was never bored talking with her. And she was easy to look at.

I got the roast, started it late because I knew she was always late. But today she wasn’t. She called me from downstairs, asked if I could help her bring some stuff up. I said sure and went down.

She had brought her daughter, her travel cot and a bag of clothes and toiletries.

I laughed.

We both assumed she would leave after a couple of days of hanging out together.

She never did.

Like I said, it’s not for everyone. Our story sort of reminds me of the film Payback, with Mel Gibson. In the last scene, he’s missing a couple of toes, killed all the bad guys, got his money and as she’s driving them away, he says:

“We were going for breakfast. In Canada. We made a deal. If she’d stop hooking, I’d stop shooting people. Maybe we were aiming high.”

And yet, here we are, and it works for us.

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Who is really running the USA

I have been aware of this since the early 1990s. After which I basically stopped paying attention to America being in any way an actually American country with decisions in it or from it being made by actual Americans. And so far, in the intervening 30 years, I have not had any surprises yet when it comes to (((America))).

Probably because I briefly also worked as a bodyguard to a group of Orthodox Jews in the mid 1990s. I stopped working for them after a trip to Europe, when they asked me to be their bodyguard also at their family home in France, and I interacted for about 10 seconds, with the family’s patriarch.

A couple of months later that group was front page news in South Africa. They had run off with some 65 million Rands of other people’s money in what was essentially a Ponzi scheme.

One in which the people they had stolen the most from were other Jews, mostly.

Where did they run off to, without any further consequences to speak of? Israel.

The only consolation is that they also enriched some AK-47 armed Africans who sold them 175k worth of “emeralds” that turned out to be greenish glass.

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I’m also a film star

This is actually true. Mostly.

So I am one of the players that gets tripped up by the lead actor, though the best take is not on film because it looked so real when I somersaulted over the guy and rolled on landing that the crew stopped filming thinking I was really hurt.

So you were an extra, you say.

Actually I was also the main character. They had to do a shot of the serial killer watching the field with reflective sunglasses on. The main character was not there that day and is bald. I’m bald too, so… I became the main character for a close in shot. Although I am a lot handsomer.

So there you have it ladies and gentlemen.

You are reading the blog of a genuine main character actor.

Don’t send nudes, I’m married. Send gold.

Silver accepted too or other outlandish gifts.

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Proof the Turkey Earthquakes were HAARP induced

This guy was recording things live, and sees the information he was commenting on suddenly disappear on his feed, while he is live.

If you understand the physics you should expect to see what he is seeing before the real-time live censorship.

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Can you see why I live in Italy?

It’s us, Eastern Europe and some ex vikings.
China outnumbers everyone though.
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Hypocrisy Redux – AKA Bill Gates (of Hell)

In case you still thought he was a good guy. You know, the friend of Epstein: Billy.

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Russia Offensive has Started

Well, it looks like Russia has decided to take the next step and put a stop to any weak noises of “refurbishing” the Ukis with Tanks, fighter jets and other weapons.

As of this morning, several impacts, including from Kalibr missiles hit power stations and military installations, including in Kiev.

Explosions in Krivoy Rog, Odessa, Nikolaev regions of South Ukraine as Russia strikes Ukrainian military targets

Estimated 40 missiles fire away in the second wave, including reports of sea launches of X-101 and Kalibr (Calibre) missile launches.

Russian shelling in several high-voltage facilities in the Eastern, Western and Southern Ukrainian regions lead to power outages.

KALIBR-ATE’ YOUR STRATEGY: Left photo shows powerful aftermath of Russian strike hitting thermonuclear power plant in Krivoy Rog, South Ukraine (where Ukraine hid their weapons), with dust not having even settled yet – and right photo shows cruise missile SOARING through the skies over Odessa, South Ukraine.

While the reports are for the moment unconfirmed, at least by me, I think they are real.

I say that because in war, misinformation is a necessary part of battle, but to date the Russians have played it very straight, opting, as I said months ago, for what I personally see as the best propaganda: undeniable facts backed up by incontrovertible action.

Anyway, if these are the opening salvos, then I think Russia is probably —and if so very smartly— about to take over Odessa before the Yankee-backed Puppets in the region, or even the US itself moves in some battalion or ten, namely the famed 101st airborne, which would be nothing other than cannon fodder but would give the US led (((West))) an excuse to escalate even more.

If they take Odessa, then they will have landlocked what’s left of Ukraine, and the next step will be Western Ukraine with the Hungarian border as the target. And if they take that, then the whole of Eastern Europe really opens up to them and they will get several countries switching sides almost instantly.

Starting with Hungary and then through that Serbia. Why? Because of Russia gets direct access to Hungary then Hungary no longer is under the thumb/threat of blackmail by the US globohomo/NATO regarding everything from energy supply to trade in goods, energy and anything else they need. Hungary is landlocked and if Russia can create a land bridge to it it no longer needs to kowtow to Clown World.

Serbia borders Hungary and like them has no love for Clown World but it too is held to ransom. However if Hungary throws in with Russia, then, Serbia, via Hungary, has also got access to Russia and can ditch globohomo.

The other East block (and maybe even some West block) countries bordering Hungary and Serbia would quickly follow suit. Add a little European insurrection here and there, and before you know it, within the next decade or maybe even less, the EU will have collapsed into a few gay puppets holding on to the USA like an ageing faggot after his twinkie leaves him after having robbed and beaten him, and the rest of the European nations as humbled but hopefully soon to return to their own national culture and glory, sovereign partners of the multipolar world Russia will have ushered in.

As such, I wish our Russian neighbours Godspeed.

If you want to read a very long but absolutely brilliant and detailed current situation of the entire WWIII scenario, that goes into a lot more detail than I have explained here, then read this, with thanks to Tom, who sent it to me.

Update: Yup. It really seems that what Aleks in the link above descried as the Odessa moment may well be about to kick off.

Moldovan Defense Ministry confirms flight of missile over airspace of the country

At 10:18, the responsible structures of the institution discovered a missile that crossed the airspace of the Republic of Moldova, over the city of Mokra in the Transnistrian region, and then over the city of Cosauti, Soroca region. The missile was heading towards Ukraine.

Update 2: Or maybe not. As I said, Propaganda of War needs to be always kept in mind.

Romanian Defense Ministry has not confirmed reports of Russian missiles crossing the country’s airspace.

Earlier, Ukrainian Commander-in-Chief Zaluzhny claimed that the missiles crossed the border of Moldova, and then Romania.

 

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Reaction of Turkey to HAARP induced earthquakes (unconfirmed timeline)

Update: as suspected, the clip is from Friday the 3rd February, so not a response to the Earthquakes; which is not to say it was not —-possibly—- partly the cause of them.

And the person speaking is Soylu, minister of the interior.

The reason I didn’t say from where the clip was noted is precisely because there are bad actors producing fake information in order to twist a narrative. Your promulgating their nonsense makes your own future statements seem just as suspect and therefore, mostly get ignored by all going forward.

Integrity matters, so try to ensure, as best you can, that any information you pass on is verifiable. And if that’s not immediately possible, at least put a warning up about the info being suspect, as I did in the earlier version of this post.

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