Comments by "Hallands Menved" (@Hallands.) on "hochelaga"
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The idle and wealthy, motivated by a deep seated fear of rejection, seek power and control to alleviate their angst and have always ended up dismissing the fundamental cultural norms and rules, seeking out »occultism« – suggesting some very, very special, hidden knowledge, but de facto meaning not much more than »little know and quirky rules«.
How else would they pursue more power and control when they reach the limitation of their abilities or the ceiling society allows?
They end up building »secret societies« like children seeking refuge from bullies and parental overreach. Being unable to do something notorious that’s real, they instead do something fake or make believe and when scorned by their peers, they secretly commit atrocities – usually against pets or children – typically submitting them to the very fears they themselves never managed to resolve.
Their »angels« and »voices« are similar to the various alter egos seen with schizophrenics and multiple personality disorders, differing only in the way they manifest. In MPD the various egos take over for a time, in schizophrenia they’re kept at bay by being externalized (the voices come from the TV, the radiator or a specific tooth) but not so with the false prophets like Crowley and Hubbard. They know this is part of their own mental setup and marvel at its genius. All they need do is give it free rein and it will produce a stream of »interesting tales«… Hence the psychedelics.
If you have grasped the entirety of what I just told you, you have already realized that these rare, sad personalities are living fruitless lives, always on yellow alert; they’re pathetic, feeble and very dangerous. But in true democracies they can’t rise to power.
This is why we shall not suffer censorship, government overreach or enslavement by big tech.
This is why we reject any religion which fails to truly encompass everything in the Universe and doesn’t recognize that for there to be time, eternity must first exist…
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Ka' du huske dengang,
da de døvstumme sang,
og de fingerløse spilled på klaver-ver-ver
og en død mand hang
på et rustent søm og sang,
vil du med mig ud i skoven når jeg dør, dør, dør?
Næ gu' vil jeg ej,
for mit navn er Nikolaj.
Jeg var 27 år,
da jeg blev født, født, født.
Og min mor var akrobat,
og min far var tinsoldat,
og jeg selv er en lille rød tomat-mat-mat.
Men de gode gamle dage,
kommer aldrig mer' tilbage.
Maggedille, maggedulle, maggedej-dej-dej.
Ta' en pige med sig hjem.
Klæ hend' af og gå i seng.
Maggedille, maggedulle, maggedej-dej-dej.
På en jernbaneskinne
lå en nøgen danserinde,
og hun kløed sig i kussen med et strå, strå, strå.
Men da strået blev for lille,
ku' det ikke læng're kilde.
Maggedille, maggedulle, maggedej-dej-dej.
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