Category Archives: Ehrean

Third Reich Pilgrim Part II: Ghostland. Book Release.

THIRD REICH PILGRIM Part II: Ghostland – Book Release

Book is now available for purchase – AUD$29.95 – please email hermitage75@yahoo.com.au for payment and shipping details.

I will write a little synopsis later on.

Here are the Chapters:

I – The Kingdom of Blood And Iron

II – The Mythos of Germania and the Reich

III – The End of Berlin

IV – Goslar and the Heart of Germany

V – Operation Kyffhauser

VI – The Green Knights of Totenwald

VII – Walhalla on the Danube

VIII – The Treason Within


Fake War – The Penultimate Truth

All extracts taken from Philip K Dick’s The Penultimate Truth.

One has to extract the parts of this mosaic literary work that are relevant in serial logical form. The rest of the book can be expurgated. In all Philip K Dick’s books that I have read, and I have read so far about 6 or 7, there is several layers of writing, like many books, going back to the Norse and Greek Myths and the Biblical Canon, where there are several layers which are woven together, often proving rather contradictory. It’s woven together from many threads, as I discussed in TRP Part I, the “text” referring to textum in Latin, which is a woven fabric – so I write about the “Weavers Guild” of Germany being the first book makers. But all the Guilds worked closely together to produce the first books, as it was such a massive operation, it took the combined efforts of all the industries of humans. Now this has been done for reasons other than money, because there is no profit in making books, books, are massively subsidized. We see books today that can be purchased new for $5.00 retail, however, the true cost in making that same book, would be in the order of $50.00…That is without the marketing and advertising, if one adds in the enormous costs of marketing and advertising books, the figure is ???? Who knows…And there are millions of books produced each year that nobody even reads, and yet the costs are still there – there is no profit in the book business, nor in publishing, and most of the names credited as “authors” are actors, who knows, Philip K Dick was probably an actor too, most notable “writers” are not the actual writers but are front men and women, they play the part of the writer, while the true authors are unknown. I mean, with, for example Philip K Dick, there is no way one man could have encoded a book with such penultimate truths at the time he did, alone. Even today with the vast Internet available to us, which is also described in the book under different names, even today, one man would find it impossible. The book was written in 1964! Interesting also, not just the Fake War parts, but the description of Flat Earth, and also many descriptions of the faking of archaeology, the book goes into some depth on how the fraud of archaeology is organised. Certainly this is way too advanced in knowledge for the time.

 

“Only here, in this day and age, as speech the speech had just pointed out, they had been born onto the surface of a world and now that surface with its air and sunlight and hills, its oceans, its streams, its colours and textures, its very smells, had been swiped from them and they were left with a tin-can submarine – figuratively – dwelling boxes in which they were squeezed, under a false light, to breathe repurified stale air, to listen to weird obligatory music and sit day-long at work benches making leadies for a purpose which – but even Lantano could not go on here. Could not say, for a purpose you dont know. For each of us here above to argument our retiues with, our entourages which wait on us, follow us, dig for us, build, scrape and bow…You have made us barons in baronial castles, and you are the Nibelungen, the dwarves, in the mines; you labour for us. AND WE GIVE YOU BACK READING MATTER.”

“Both military establishment, those of Wes-Dem and Pac-Peop, had provided him with financial and spiritual assistance – as well as the fabulous film clips of World War Two which each establishment held in its classified film libraries. The twin documentaries, contrived so as to be released simultaneously…Joseph Adams fitted his eyes to the spool scanner he thought to himself that they should have been able to remember enough to recognise what they saw on their TV screens to be a pure lie. Before his eyes appeared the tiny, illuminated and clear image of Adolf Hitler, addressing the hired flunkies who constituted the Reichstag of the late 1930’s. Der Fuhrer was in a sardonic, jovial, mocking, exited mood…his voice rising with each, and with each the hired flunkies jeered in synchronization…The emotionality of it all…The roars of the flunkies…Joseph Adams watched, listened, felt inside him a resonance with the roars, a sardonic glee in company with Hitler’s – and at the same time he felt simple, quite childlike wonder that this scene could ever have truly taken place.”

“It was the British who had brought about Buchenwald, was Gottlieb Fischer’s revised history. Not the Germans. The Germans were the victims, in 1943 as much as 1919. A later scene in Documentary A would show Berliners, in 1944, hunting in the woods surrounding Berlin, searching for nettles to make soup. The Germans were starving; all continental Europe, all people inside and outside the concentration camps, were starving. Because of the British.”

“The Wes-Dem TV viewer would discover that England, France, Germany and the United States should have all been allies. Against the authentic evil-doer, Josef Stalin, with his megalomanical plans for world conquest….The scene which opened episode four of version A. Advancing the spool, Joseph Adams halted at the episode and put his eyes to the scanner, this modern technological crystal ball into which one gazed to know – not the future – but the past. And. Not even the past. Instead, this fake which he now witnessed. Before his eyes a film sequence, narrated by the maddeningly ubiquitous Alex Sourberry and his oily, skillful murmur. A scene vital to the overall moral version of version A which Gottlieb Fischer, backed angelwise by the Wes-Dem military establishment….A deliberate, carefully manufactured fraud…To think that what we are now derives from such crude sleight-of-hand…since the documentary had been universally accepted as historically correct, as documenting the sell-out at Yalta, the misunderstood Adolf Hitler who had really only been trying to save Western Democracies from the Commies…And all it took was a few juxtaposed shots of British warships and starving camp victims, a few entirely faked scenes that simply never had actually occurred…And the soothing voice which tied it all together. Soothing – but firm.”

“In World War Two England and the US only seemed to fight Germany…technical errors occur…First of all, in World War Two there was no US Air Force…Prop Planes…The monad wanted me to see…our collective, historic efforts from the very beginning, starting with these two documentaries, has been marred. When you and I go out to fake things you and I and all the rest of us are just plain bound, at some place, sooner or later, to slip up.”

“…he tore himself loose from the tunnel, scrabbled and clutched at the clammy, flat earth which was surface earth; horizontal, with no end.”

“Our fake-producing factory, he thought, demands a lot from us; we may be the ruling elite, but we are not idle.”

“We are, Adams realized, a cursed race. Genesis is right; there is a stigma on us, a mark. Because only a cursed, marked, flawed species would use its discoveries as we are using them.”

“The fakery had gone that deep…They don’t work…If I could make them really work I could take over the world.”

“They share film studios in Moscow…Just like they share the New York Agency. Some talented Commie producer named Eisenbludt; he stages all the scenes of destruct you see on your TV screen. Usually its in min – done in scale. Sometimes, though, its life-size. Like they show the leadies fighting. He does a good job. I mean, its convincing; I remember and sometimes, when the TV set we have up here is working, we manage to catch it. We were fooled, too, when we were below. He, that Eisenbludt, and all the Yance-men; they’ve fooled everybody almost, except sometimes tankers do come up anyhow. Like you did.”

“And derived his Fuhrer, not from his own creativity, his artistic genius, but from simple observation. And who would Gottleib Fischer, circa 1982, be seeing? Actors. Hundreds of them. Sorted over to play roles in his two vast phony documentaries – actors picked especially for their ability to portray world leaders. In other words, actors who had charisma, the magic…. What the documentaries lacked were proper credits; who played what great world leader; we need that list, and the list does not and never did exist; it was carefully not made.”

“Is that what rules the millions of tankers today, the actor who struck Gottleib Fischer as just right to undertake the task of impersonating Hitler.”

“Its was spurious. Laid down deliberately by Gestalt-macher. Fakes. That’s what makes up the Gestalt, clues like that, profile indicators.”

“We have here, Adams, the ultimate factory of manufacturing hoaxes.”

“In that spurious, utterly faked scene contrived by Gottleib Fischer.”

“Because you know; and I know why you know, and you realise this. We are no longer in the quagmire of fakes, now; this is real. What are you, what I am aware of, due to the photo graphic records taken by my satellite.”

“We are cursed as a  race, all right, Foote said to himself; Genesis is right.”

“Because, he said to himself, I’m going to tell them the truth.”


Third Reich Pilgrim, Part II: Ghostland. Upcoming Book Release


Travels in Oz Part III

The bus past Pine Gap on the way out of Alice Springs, the station is run by the C.I.A the NSA and the NRO. About one thousand people work here within the confines on a full-time and part-time basis. Pine Gap station is part of the Echelon program, which is a surveillance operation, one of the “Five Eyes”. The Echelon program was formed in the 1960’s to monitor military and diplomatic communications of the Soviet Union during the farcical “Cold War”. The facility then upgraded to a broader range “global surveillance”. From my window I could see the white “radomes”, which are radars hidden within a domes. The domes are meant to protect the radar antennas. The fiberglass radomes looked like large white mushrooms sprouting up in the flat red desert landscape, they looked like an abstract art installation, they looked farcical, like a landscape folly – and that is what they are – a landscape folly. That is the secret of Pine Gap – it’s a joke, actually there is nothing inside the domes that works, they are just for show.

Now let me quote something, and show how the truth is often hidden in plain sight, as the old saying goes:

“A global network of electronic spy stations that can eavesdrop on telephones, faxes and computers. It can track even bank accounts. This information is stored in Echelon computers, which can keep millions of records on individuals. Officially, however, Echelon doesn’t exist.” – The Guardian Newspaper

Yes, that is correct, Echelon doesn’t exist, and everybody who has anything to do with Pine Gap knows that it does not exist. Those one thousand people who work there do nothing, they just maintain the propaganda and clean up the place. They guard nothing!!!! They just look after empty fiberglass white mushroom-like things. There is no such thing as “spy satellites”, they don’t exist… Other than farcical propaganda, Pine Gap is utterly meaningless, it is a fraud, a fantasia… But it is a fraud that has paid quite well for many decades.

The bus driver finished his spiel with, “and nobody knows what really goes on in there”. I mumbled under my breath, “Nothing goes on in there.”

The next stop was Lake Amadeus. The lake still retains its Germanic name, because German-Australians were the first to sight it. There were no aboriginals in this area before white man explored it. Lake Amadeus is a dry salt crust. The “discoverer” was said to be an Englishman named Ernest Giles, in 1872, however Gile’s benefactor was Baron Ferdinand von Mueller, the lake is said to be named after a Spanish king, but, of course none of this makes any sense, unless Germanic history has been transferred to Spain at some stage.

After a few more adventures I finally arrived at the base of Ayers Rock, the name of which has been aboriginalized to “Uluru”. The whites themselves did this to attempt to prove that they were not the first explorers of this area but it was the aboriginals that were. The “aboriginals” of this area now are not full “aboriginals”, they are mixed race, in fact, in many cases they are now more white than black, so extensive has the interbreeding been between “aboriginals” and white men, but any mixed breed, of course only acknowledges the black ancestry and not the white, even if they are now more white than black. There are “aboriginals” in Australia now that could easily be mistaken for being whites, however they call themselves “black”… It’s very strange, but the primary motivator is that they get given more money if they call themselves black and have some black ancestry, nobody give a shit about the white ancestry in Australia, that does not pay…Being “aboriginal” seems to have a pecuniary motivation, and the pecuniary motivation to be black is provided for by the whites… When I was young, the mixed-race “aboriginals” were given money and jobs by the white Australian government, they were treated like royalty, given scholarships, fawned upon, patronized, awarded, and named The traditional owners of Australia. Aboriginals always had more than us poor white kids, who were looked upon as second class citizens, this was the predominate prejudice in the poor public schools where I was educated.

I had hired a bike to ride around the base of Ayers Rock. This mountainous monolithic form raises up from a base that is completely flat, one can ride a bike right up to the point where the rock, incredibly, just rises vertically out of the ground! There is no elevation to the surrounding area running up to the base of the giant rock! This is truly astounding… At the very base of the rock was just a sand bed, not even small rocks or a build up of “millions of years” of falling stones, sediment and rocks, nothing, just flat sand, then leaping vertical hard rock! But this is sandstone…It struck me as a petroform, but alien… I felt engrossed by the thing… Another man approached the rock, he could not stop laughing, manically, “Ha ha ha, looooook, it’s acute, the angle is acute, ha, ha.”…. Parts of the rock face were acute angles rising from a completely flat base, but there were no loose rocks or boulders about… The face of the rock was smooth, the fissures and cracks were sparsely located, what a strange form! It was beguiling, I felt like laughing myself at this impossible geo-structure…What the fucking hell is this thing! I have read about the “geology” of the area and “scientific” descriptions of the formation of Ayers Rock, and they are a joke. Many men who have come here to the centre of Australia on some pilgrimage to see the “dead heart” to see this wonder, know very well that nobody has any idea how this thing got here or what it actually is.

The Rock’s skin was scaly, flakey in parts, yet no sedimentary build up at the perimeter of the base… I continued my journey, on a bike! Riding around the base. One can do a full circuit of the base of Ayers Rock on a bike. I stopped at a shallow cave, it appeared to be unnatural, a strange expression from this giant mineral being, I had no explanation for it, an information board attempted to explain it in “scientific” terms, it made no sense, the thing was fucking inexplicable! I felt its alien presence, as if it was like that movie “Close Encounters of a Third Kind”, but this was real, right in the middle of Australia, the Ozzie Externsteine! This thing even sucks in moisture and then expires it, it drinks water! There was a small puddle of stagnant black water, a water hole, in a little oasis, shaded by ghostly gum trees, apparently this is where the “indigenous custodians” of the land got their drinking water from…LOL… There is no way any group of people could survive here… Not enough water, and nothing to eat, “bush tucker” is a fraud, nobody can survive very long eating what is available in the outback, especially not the centre of Australia – but as the white folks say – “the aborigines have lived here for 40,000 years, they are the world’s oldest culture.” What bunch of camel shit! Talking of camels, they reckon there are 1 million wild camels in the outback, that’s a lie, camels can’t survive out here, there are no wild camels, just like there are no wild horses! This is all a show, they even pretend to round-up wild camels and cull them, bullshit, they are all domesticated and bred by humans, sure some get lost and wander out into the desert, and there they die, fast. It’s a show, das ist nur Schau, all this “wild nature” stuff, a fucking show! They make it up and pretend, the truth is very, very different. How can I explain that? It’s these thoughts that come into my head; a heavy, heavy burden, perhaps it would be easier to let it all go, stop the pain…

Further on I came to some “aboriginal rock art”, the information board stated that it was painted by Paddy Uluru in the 1950’s. The paintings have been touched up several times since, as they would have to in order to make them visible, given the erosion effects on rock formations, of course any geologist or artist would know this, yet they all claim falsely that rock art is very old and the work of “ancient”, “primitive cultures”.. All “ancient rock art” is 20th century abstract expressionism, which is unskilled type of artwork, minus the discipline of perspective. If it is not 20th Century, at most it is 19th Century. It’s not very old. Yet the White folks will claim alongside their Black mating partners that this art is “40,000 years old”, against all reason and logic. It’s a fraud in other words.

I circumvented the site, and came to the place where one can climb up the Totemic Rock. What the hell is this thing, I thought to myself, it’s like some old alien being, sentient, living elder thing of the desert, incomprehensible… It was hot, over 40 degrees Celsius. It’s dangerous to climb this rock at any time, dozens of people have died climbing it. I began the accent. Up an iron chain, holding on to the chain and pulling myself up, the first 50 meters were draining, it was much hotter on the blasted surface of the rock, no shade, the sun beat down on me like a hammer, I took out my water bottle and had a swig, the water was hot! It was so hot that I was dry, no sweat on my skin, the hot air was sucking the moisture out of the pores of my skin…I continued on, it was 4pm in the afternoon, the hottest time of the day, it seemed like a foolhardy decision, but I pressed on, this time only 10 meters before stopping and resting, I kept on like this until I was resting for longer than climbing, it felt like it was about 50 degrees now… Another climber was coming down, he looked half my age, he looked utterly exhausted… I was about half way up… I turned and looked down the steep face, yes, one could easily pass out from heat exhaustion and just roll off the face of the rock, and die. What a stupid way to die, I thought to myself. I looked out into the direction of the Olga’s, the only other visible rock formation rising out of the dead flat lands… The Olga’s had a feminine shape, it must be the wife of this mineralized being I was scrambling up, his wife was over there, where he could still see her. It was like a Revelation, some powerful psychic thought-transference, from this old being of the desert, just designed to trip me out some more! “Oh that is my wife over there, you see her.” What the fucking hell is this thing? I kept climbing… Starting to fatigue…Some calculations in my head, and it seemed that I could make it to the top, but getting down was an unknown venture. There was a definite risk here. I could have done it if it was early morning, or dusk, but this was the worst time to climb, it was seriously hot… I sat down, clinging to the chain, alone, upon this inexplicable blasted red rock. I have trekked and climbed in mountain ranges all over the world, in the Himalayas, in the Andes, the Carpathians, many places, but I have never been on such a weird rock as this…I started to climb back down.

Ayers Rock

The Olgas

 


Torch Bearers Of The Void

By Eckhart Tolle: The Power of Now

One night not long after my twenty-ninth birthday, I woke up in the early hours with a feeling of absolute dread. I had woken up with such a feeling many times before, but this time it was more intense than it had ever been. The silence of the night, the vague outlines of the furniture in the dark room, the distant noise of a passing train – everything felt so alien, so hostile, and so utterly meaningless that it created in me a
deep loathing of the world. The most loathsome thing of all, however, was my own existence. What was the point in continuing to live with this burden of misery? Why carry on with this continuous struggle? I could feel that a deep longing for annihilation, for nonexistence, was now becoming much stronger than the instinctive desire to continue to live.

“I cannot live with myself any longer.” This was the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind. Then suddenly I became aware of what a peculiar thought it was. `Am I one or two? If I cannot live with myself, there must be two of me: the `I’ and the `self’ that `I’ cannot live with.” “Maybe,” I thought, “only one of them is real.” I was so stunned by this strange realization that my mind stopped. I was fully conscious, but there were no more thoughts. Then I felt drawn into what seemed like a vortex of energy. It was a slow movement at first and then accelerated. I was gripped by an intense fear, and my body started to shake. I heard the words “resist nothing,” as if spoken inside my chest. I could feel myself being sucked into a void. It felt as if the void was inside myself rather than outside. Suddenly, there was no more fear, and I let myself fall into that void. I have no recollection of what happened after that.

I was awakened by the chirping of a bird outside the window. I had never heard such a sound before. My eyes were still closed, and I saw the image of a precious diamond. Yes, if a diamond could make a sound, this is what it would be like. I opened my eyes. The first light of dawn was filtering through the curtains. Without any thought, I felt, I knew, that there is infinitely more to light than we realize. That soft luminosity filtering through the curtains was love itself. Tears came into my eyes. I got up and walked around the room. I recognized the room, and yet I knew that I had never truly seen it before. Everything was fresh and pristine, as if it had just come into existence. I picked up things, a pencil, an empty bottle, marveling at the beauty and aliveness of it all.

That day I walked around the city in utter amazement at the miracle of life on earth, as if I had just been born into this world. For the next five months, I lived in a state of uninterrupted deep peace and bliss. After that, it diminished somewhat in intensity, or perhaps it just seemed to because it became my natural state. I could still function in the world, although I realized that nothing I ever did could possibly add anything to what I already had.

I knew, of course, that something profoundly significant had happened to me, but I didn’t understand it at all. It wasn’t until several years later, after I had read spiritual texts and spent time with spiritual teachers, that I realized that what everybody was looking for had already happened to me. I understood that the intense pressure of suffering that night must have forced my consciousness to withdraw from its identification with the unhappy and deeply fearful self, which is ultimately a fiction of the mind. This withdrawal must have been so complete that this false, suffering self immediately collapsed, just as if a plug had been pulled out of an inflatable toy. What was left then was my true nature as the ever-present I am: consciousness in its pure state prior to identification with form. Later I also learned to go into that inner timeless and deathless realm that I had originally perceived as a void and remain fully conscious. I dwelt in states of such indescribable bliss and sacredness that even the original experience I just described pales in comparison. A time came when, for a while, I was left with nothing on the physical plane. I had no relationships, no job, no home, no socially defined identity. I spent almost two years sitting on park benches in a state of the most intense joy.


Fake War

“The hope only of empty men”

Yes, the War making process has begun with the Opera House, specifically German Operas, and then it has extended from there, with movie making and photographic technology it became easier to convince the public that the war was real. Although, it would seem, that much of the “public” already knew this as they were actively taking part in the productions. Also there is a Karnival aspect to war, a Karnival public holiday, but like a scary ride in a travelling circus. Interestingly, The Beatles start out in Germany, popular music itself really begins with the German Romantic Movement, and Wandervogel Movements, then WWI songs and then WWII songs… Popular music uses much slapstick, basically a loud amplified noise designed to attract the attention of a passerby. It is impossible for British Rock music to precede German amplifications and instruments and music arrangements, but somehow they are trying to convince us that the British and Americans were more progressive in this field than the Germans… For example they say that Black Sabbath came before Kraftwerk’s ‘Heavy Metal Kids’… Yet without doubt, Black Sabbath must have learned from Kraftwerk, and first played in Germany.

In plain and simple faith there are no tricks or deception… There is no faith in “war”, there has never been a “war” between nations, and there never will be. War is merely a Game – “War Games” where the objective is to make the Game or the Show appear as real as possible. War is Opera conducted by directors and peopled by Hollow Men – the stuffed men! They only make gallant show and pretend to be brave, in reality they are all cowards, their medals and crests and flags are only for show, they have no faith nor loyalty – they are liars – sold-liars – soldiers in costumes.
“When love begins to sicken and decay, it useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.” – Julius Caesar, Shakespeare

The Medium IS the Message

“The Medium is the Message” – Marshall McLuhan

Aachen, Germany, Robot writing the Bible.

Funny story where McLuhan, was shown a printing error of his phrase “The Medium is the Message”, it read instead “The Medium is the Massage”, to which he accepted as being also true… Thus “The Medium is the Mass-Age”.