For Lilian and the Indigos - Above Top Secret

I enjoy Cannabis, well, then, in my opinion you are an undiscerning scoffer, a useless
eater, the lukewarm, the smoke in my nostrils, what REVELATION X from the SubGenii
dedicates an entire chapter to – The Conspiracy.
The only reason (besides being anointed or possessed) I can do this is because I started a
never ending self-education 20 years ago. I put in what Malcolm Gladwell taught me are
the requisite 10,000 hours of practice/study to be truly versed in something, and that
something is me.
I’m like Oliver Heaviside. I prefer to mooch off of friends and family while I hide out
with pot and physics – Oliver’s preference was pipe tobacco and applied math. Like that
dirty hippie, Carl Sagan, I find that the “warping of time and space” (see Reefer
Madness) Cannabinoids enable, enhances my ability to associate abstract and disparate
ideas and theories. Jesus was a mooch too, but he probably figured that it was justified,
seeing as how he was the only guy around that could raise the dead. I feel that way about
free energy. I know this stuff is important even if nobody else does. Slack must be
justified though, the bliss must be balanced with suffering, so yeah, I’ll do your dishes
while I live here, and if I must get a job, I’ll wash dishes.
In fact, “Hydro-Ceramic Sanitation Specialist” has been pretty much my only job; some
restaurants are better than others…
Why is this significant? Let me paint you a picture:
You likely despise doing the dishes right? Now imagine being expected to wash dishes as
fast as humanly possible for hours at a time, all the while people are demanding items
from you, often seconds apart, “on the fly.” Little spoons, a stack of burgers from scratch,
paper towels, sushi plates… When I do look up, I see tables full of wealthy elites who
pay $16 for a salad and eat only the shrimp. I get to scrape the rest into the garbage.
Occasionally very sexy waitresses come back to the prep/pit to scarf a few bites. Why
must their pants be so tight? Oh yeah, tips. They would never fuck me.
My immediate boss is The Chef and sometimes my mistake encounters his high standards
or displaced girlfriend issues and he goes Gordon Ramsay on me – not pleasant.
This is all the training I need for a proper attitude in my role as Omega Christ. A
machine-like submission to the destroyer function I adopt in each trinity. I cleanse the
containers of creation by blasting and scrubbing the wasted bits and scum from their
pristine potential so that He may present his art once more. Only difference is, I can’t
walk out on Reality like I can the dish pit. I can tire of Chef’s demands and dishes, but
not God’s expectations and constant gifts for fulfilling those expectations.
…I quit my job involuntarily recently. I’m in a delicate place right now and the wrath is
bursting at the seams. I had been tolerating Chef’s “Ramsay” moments fairly well but this
time was it. If I hadn’t walked out I would have smashed something or someone. The
good thing is, it provides me with a PERFECT example of what is wrong with the world.