Showing posts with label Synthetic Telepathy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Synthetic Telepathy. Show all posts


Ahh 2B A Stah

I was trying not to post anything new in 2012 and simply spend the rest of my time completing earlier posts; some of which were set aside while new ones were started, some of which had work lost mid sentence and the material could not be readily recalled for completion.

But here are a few thoughts on what others (them) think.

Let me preface what follows by saying that I am not in the best frame of mind--hard day having to digest the confirmation that I am step-mother to my own children; my grandchildren are afraid to so much as look at me--God only knows what they are being told about me; my hair is falling out in clumps from spending too much time at 0G and not due to my jumping for joy, but being hopping mad; I still hear random individuals take the liberty of pronouncing my name to whomever/whatever Unknown is on the other side of the phone (Skype)line when I pop into my neighborhood Starbucks (I had avoided going there for several weeks and then when I ventured in again that Mr Oh!G still could be overheard doing the same); then to have that one individual actually wake me from my sleep by calling me from within my private room.

Look, if I so much as suspect that voice as coming from a man or woman I've come across I have no reason to trust them, because, well because this and still no reasonable explanation (so whoever knows this much about me is by default automatically implicated in the crime and that's why no signal from outerspace, see I can ignore them just like they did me and then some, because I can do it on multiple levels)!

I find myself still making excuses for noises and pressure changes in my car, trying to rationalize what's weird, and the flashes I see while driving or going about my daily so-called life are not because they are shooting my picture but whatever it is I know Who to thank for what I've been calling migraines.

So this post is all about apertures. Openings, or 3ayns, like our eyes where light enters, and anuses where skutt leaves, and why never the two 3'ayn shall meet.

Overheard at, where else but the salone of the 21st century, coffee shop a man was explaining to someone how it is the very nature of the human brain to be the center of its universe-- to make everything in the world about that individual and why everyone, no matter who they are, or what they say, all want to be a Star! Not a Planet, or Blackhole, or some other Space Debris, but a Star--and not as a destination-- no wonder we are all still stuck here on (multiple) Earth.

Spoken like someone who only knows everyone in Los Angeles. And this man's sweeping assessment of everyone's basic nature and true character is nothing more than the projection of probably his own aspirations onto everyone else.

After all if he wants it, then surely doesn't everybody else?

Are they any better than what he thinks?

Can they possibly be any different?

The Argyle Sweater Feb. 21, 2012
"Why Would Anyone Try Not to be Noticed?"
What? Why? Are they aliens?

Well, unlike him, I can't speak for everyone else. But some of us, me, a handful of friends, family, and acquaintences don't seem to want that. Some of us do-- the ones born and raised in LA, but on the whole we don't spend time even thinking about it. Not that we can't appreciate a Star when we see one. I enjoy a reason to dress up and see a show as much as anyone, but that  doesn't mean I want to be in every production!

My Mother, for example, all she is ever on about (when she catches sight of me, anyway) is 'Land! Land!' and I'm like 'What on Earth is Her preoccupation with Land?'

True, its rising up out of the Water is fascinating, but that trick got old after the first time.

Speaking for myself, its not so much what I want as much as what I don't or didn't ever want--any problems. Because then I would be forced to have to sit down and try to solve them and that leads to just one math mistake after another (and then HE wipes out the final touches to my antenna).

And for the gentleman who thought he was channeling my Father on his way out the shop by telling me to "Study!" That's like the last thing my Father would ever adjure me to do, in fact He once emphatically told me I do too much reading and studying and to make His point stick, He literally threw the book at me (it was Calculus).

"Books have led some to learning and others to madness."



The problem, Dear, is that You think I don't see You.

It may seem like I am whining and pining for my Late Father, especially now that Father’s Day has come and gone (how dolorous), but what You may not realize is that my Father is not as Late as everyone has been led to believe.

It seems like only yesterday, well, okay, it was the Summer of 2010, when my Father (my Dad) popped into my place of business and pretended to be duly impressed with how little I‘ve managed to accomplish during my, at best, inconsequential stay on Earth.

He sauntered into the shop, looked around for nothing in particular and said, “Nice place you have here. I’d like to find a place just like this to live.”

Thinking he was admiring the interior design, I offered to do the same for him should he settle on a place.

“No,” He says, “I meant I like this one. Would you know how much they’re asking?”

“Well, Gee, I wasn’t aware that they were gonna sell it right out from under me!” I think to myself, but what I say is, “We are leasing the area upstairs if you’re interested, but for work since this is a commercial space; I don’t think you can actually live here.”

He looks to his right, and clearly says aloud, “I Know she’s my daughter.”

At which point I think to myself, O, Gee, this must be my Dad, given his propensity to speak into the air where no one else is visibly standing around listening; there is no mistaking that genetic defect!”
I give him a careful once over, and think, “He does look familiar, but nothing like the fella I kissed goodbye as he lay cold and blue-tinged in his coffin back in ’94.”
Yet, His keen insight makes me think, “Well, I guess there’s no fooling You, Dad, given how I stacked on the pounds, and the swelling in my face and extremities turned me into a nicer smelling, non-drooling, version of Jabba-the-Hutt--I still couldn't fool you, could I?”

I actually became very self-conscious about my physical appearance at that point and tried to make imperceptible minor adjustments to my clothing to make sure, at the very least, that I was presentable; not because I was trying to impress him, but because I was disappointed for myself and didn't want it to be so obvious.

He kept chatting away about this and that and I tried to keep up with the conversation, all the while thinking, “Okay, while I’m not really sure how or why You’re here, and because what’s Yours is Mine anyway, say and do whatever You will, but please not another math problem out of You!” (About the only place I was ever allowed to make a mistake)
And, when He decided the conversation wound down to a satisfactory conclusion, He said his good-byes and promised to be back again.

“Hmmm, where have I heard promises like that before?” I wonder.

Since that last surprise inspection tour, I make more of an effort to look presentable throughout the day whenever I’m out and about. The kids don't mind my looking frumpled every so often, as long as I keep breathing, but if Dad catches me looking out of sorts, that usually spells disaster

My Late Father's name, (Gramps or GDad, to You) is Abraham, and he spelled it true to his heritage, Ibrahim, (roughly translated Free-Them or Their Freedom)--quite the activist in his youth, and the story often told in Sunday School is about Abraham Smashing the Idols, which often brings this type of imagery to mind:

21 Al-Anbiya (The Prophets)وَتَاللَّهِ لَأَكِيدَنَّ أَصْنَامَكُم بَعْدَ أَن تُوَلُّوا مُدْبِرِينَ 21:57
21:57 (Abraham said) "And, By God! I will Certainly/Surely/Ablate? your idols/fixations/images/copies/icons/Signs while your backs are turned (while you are unaware)!"

You can quote me on that, Sign 21:57, since I am afterall my father's daughter. If the conexion is not immediately obvious, the breakdown follows:
The word for idols is أَصْنَامَ which includes all the associated meanings: icons/statues/false gods/signs, etc. ;and Abe, in his own honest way, says he'll "make certain/sure" (لَأَكِيدَ, 'la-akeeda' ) of them while the pagans are not watching.
On the face of it this sounds like a safe bet to have them entrusted to Abe's care, because that's the part the idolators want to believe; that Abe feels the same way about the false gods (idols) they love and will 'take care' of them accordingly.

It is in the very next Sign 21:58 that we, the reader, see what Abe meant by 'take care' or 'make certain' of the idols/images/signs/icons/statues/false gods (which he apparently was not too fond of). Sign 21:58 starts off by stating that he 'ablated them' فَجَعَلَهُمْ جُذَاذًا ('faja3alahum jathethen'); the root for jathethen is 'jthe' جُذَ (the letters j + the). The linguistic manuever speaks to Abe's honesty as well as his eloquence, since that little (2-letter) word includes all of the meanings tabulated below (and then some):

Given how Abe took care of the things he found so irksome, including everything from defacing the statues, to whitewashing, to pouring acid on them, and whatever he saw fit to do to work this thing out of his system, must have called for a great deal of effort on his part; physical force, stress, intellect---he must have called on all of his resources to accomplish this task in the few hours he thought no one else was looking.

And now, I am expected to do the very same thing my Father did without breaking a sweat or getting a hair out of place. Calls for some

The brute force tactics would have involved ablation as it pertains to physical destruction, like sandblasting, abrasion, and filing them down, that don't necessarily have to have a negative outcome since these same processes can be used to polish, scrub, and refine the idols, too, which was his duty to his father, the idol maker, to look after what his father produced as his means of livelihood; the weathering process related to ablation would have taken a bit longer since it would involve wear and tear, erosion, and general attrition due to the ravages of time, and since Abe is not a slave to time, he probably had enough time to see all this get done, too; the utterly destructive connotation to ablation is 'conflagration' which would have been a rather intense fire, but as we know, fire is also a way to purify something, like when smelting metals. So, in reality, since Abe did the brunt of the work in accomplishing this task, there is no need to have to cover the same territory my father did when dealing with false objects that call for my attention.

The more accessible methods to me would be those that involve usage/consumption including expenditure in time, money, effort, ingestion (or in my special case, indigestion, and I've covered that thoroughly), an asynchronous phase in an electromagnetic field (I was able to verify that my EEG slowed in some areas, including the beta and theta bands, and were indeed out of synch with 'normal' (everyone else's)); the leakage aspect (yes, that too) has to do with publishing this blog, which based on my own children not being able to find it, shows that it has some information that gets stymied in an attempt to keep the information from getting out. But the one aspect of living up to my father's name (expectations) is ablatation as it pertains to 'abstraction' in that 'breaking the Signs' it led (at least me, anyway) to develop some new concepts. {If anyone else deigns to claim any part in my turning an abysmally tragic event into this kind of positive, they should reconsider. Since as part of my conversation with my Dad, He actually gave me some sound advise. He said, "You know, there is a way to negotiate with terrorists. You basically say, 'Either I get it All, or you get Nothing!"}.

{It's about an hour after I jotted down that last sentence and then You Know What You Did!
I take it You didn't like what I was wearing?--sheesh!}

And while Abe waited 'til everyone else's backs were turned to have at it, my personal take on the familial duty was to do it while they were watching (right under their noses)--thinking, well, if the job description called for diplomacy, Ms. Shirley Temple or Audrey Hepburn would have been the more suitable candidates, or at the very least, a better poker player.

Figuring that chances are the messenger never makes it out alive, what have I to lose if I was already handed my own death sentence ?(I still wish it didn't have to hurt so much). So, the conclusion was that going out with a little flourish would intrigue the kids (seeing the affect the 'love story' angle had on them, the levity from this counter approach seemed a tad more apropos).



Someone did a search with the following string and landed at :

"what should a girl do when a man is communicating by mental telepathy? "

In an ordinary world, the answer is obvious, you let nature take its course; but under extraordinary circumstances, say, because every cell in your body has been manipulated to oblivion and each of you is married to someone else and you don't look anything like the tail he is chasing around his office and you're not short on cash or company, you do what the Big Voice in the room tells you to do and you "Get Out of The Way-Now!"
Not surprisingly, the Quran offers just this type of tailor-made approach to problems; a fix to suit any occassion.
As an example, let's take Abraham's concern and the way it's handled as recorded in Sign 2:260.
{Ok. Ok. What He, the 'Big Voice' in the room, actually Said (but in the interest of brevity I gave a sound bite); "I Will Not Let you Fall. I Want you to get dressed (not what you all may think-- I was getting a medical exam) and Leave. NOW! You'll not see him again.} (In response; I got dressed, left the examining room, called the elevator, made it to the parking lot, got in the car, started the engine, fastened my seatbelt, exited the building and made it to the street in less than 30 seconds flat! And as I drove off I could 'see' that my departure was lightening quick because it was just then that the doctor was just making his way back to the examining room and rushed to the elevator bank only to find that I was gone without a trace---date of the incident on or about October 5, 1996 at around 6 pm. Who was the doctor speaking to about my medical condition on the phone in his office having established that it was not me, not the Owner of the 'Big Voice' (the Big Voice was kind o' neat, but what clinched it for me was seeing a demonstration of Your 'ability to commandeer the pixels' on my flatscreen tv at home and scroll messages of a personal nature in 30 inch lettering across it while knowing there was no dedicated private feed to our basic cable subscription), and not my spouse who was with me during part of the exam and had just left to to pick up the kids, and later found out it was not my lawyer, and not my other treating doctor, either? That pretty much elimates it being any body else's business. And now that You are all tied up in Nots, The Real Question Remains; More Importantly than What Planet am I on-- What Kind of Game are You Playing?)
And, get this; some time later, maybe years had gone by, I contacted a young lady who gave psychic readings by phone out of her home in New Jersey. Something about her seemed genuine. She did not ask me for anything other than my name and payment information and started her reading. She had never met me before the night of that 15-minute consulation; she couldn't get a bead on who the mysterious caller was, but she did say; whithout any prompting from me whatsoever; 'We All Saw You Leave That Night, We saw you leave him and he went after you as far as the elevator bank.' I asked her who was the caller, who are We that saw all this? She could only say she speaks spontaneously when she gives her readings and does not really know what is the nature of the information or who is providing it.)

Chapter 2 The Calfوَإِذْ قَالَ إِبْرَاهِيمُ رَبِّ أَرِنِي كَيْفَ تُحْيِـي الْمَوْتَى قَالَ أَوَلَمْ تُؤْمِن
قَالَ بَلَى وَلَـكِن لِّيَطْمَئِنَّ قَلْبِي قَالَ فَخُذْ أَرْبَعَةً مِّنَ الطَّيْرِ فَصُرْهُنَّ إِلَيْكَ
ثُمَّ اجْعَلْ عَلَى كُلِّ جَبَلٍ مِّنْهُنَّ جُزْءًا ثُمَّ ادْعُهُنَّ يَأْتِينَكَ سَعْيًا
وَاعْلَمْ أَنَّ اللّهَ عَزِيزٌ حَكِيمٌ 2:260

2:260 And when Abraham said, "Lord, show me how you give life to the dead." (God) Said, "Do you not Believe (accept it as True)?" (Abraham) said, "Yes, (of course), but so that I am reassured (with) inner (certainty, in my heart)." (God) Said, "Take 4 birds and train them to obey you, then place a portion of them on each mountain and call them; they will seek you (come to you) at your command (in order); and know/teach that God is Wise, Powerful."

So, Abraham learned by similitude of Falconry how it is that God Resurrects the Dead.

And, word apparently got out about my culinary prowess, so the same Sign 2:260 is a convenient Recipe that I plan to try for tonight's dinner:
2:260 And Abraham (his daughter) said, ”Lord, show me how to adapt (this recipe) and bring life to this dead (chicken)!” He said, “Don’t you believe (it can be done)?” (She) said, “Yes, but to insure the inside (is cooked).” He Said, “Take the thighs/legs of 4 birds and ground them up, then take a portion of that and knead it with a couple of figs (play up to your taste, ie season to your liking) and (grill until) there is a mark over the highest part (of the fire); and invite them to dinner and they will come in an orderly fashion; and know Your God Is Provident (Compos Mentis when it comes to you) and very Powerful (because at any time He could Swat you like a fly).”

{I substituted 1 lb. ground chicken breast for the legs and minced a couple of dried figs for the fresh and formed them into cutlets, seasoned with salt and pepper and a little dry tarragon then grilled them and they turned out moist and lovely; my family complained about the sweetness, but I balanced it with tart heirloom tomatoes for a side and made Panini sandwiches with provolone cheese out of the cutlets; they were quite nice. It turns out I have a bunch of finicky eaters at home and I hope the substitution wasn’t committing sacrilege, but the dark meat may have stood up to the figs' sweetness better, and next time maybe leave out the terragon.}

And You, Dear, get a buggy program out of it (Just what You need, right?)
إِذْ while
قَالَ declare
إِبْرَاneedle /cursor/pointer بْرَ land/ground
هِيمُ main
رَبِّ raise/increase/collect/gather/accumulate
أَرِنِي show me /display/
كَيْفَ how to alter/revise/copy/rework/adapt
تُ to
الْمَوْتَى endless /death/infinity

قَالَ declare
أَوَ Or
لَمْ Round up/gather/collect
تُؤْمِن accept as True; or تُؤْTau مِن from/of

قَالَ declare
بَلَى Yes; or بَ with; لَى twisting/torsion
وَ and
لَـكِن while is
لِّيَ twisting/bending/torsion/contortion/bending/flexion/
طْمَئِنَّ reassure/check
قَلْبِي inner/core decrease; invert/flip/transform B (or the center?)

قَالَ Declare
فَخُذْ take; thigh/leg (of a right triangle)
4أَرْبَعَةً four, tuple-4
مِّنَ of/from
الطَّيْرِ whatever flies around
فَصُرْ grate/cut into small pieces/differentiate
هُنّ from/of
إِلَيْكَ to you; to torsion/flexion/twisting...

ثُمَّ then
اجْعَلْ mark/locate
عَلَى on/to
كُلِّ each
جَبَلٍ maximum
مِّنْهُنَّ among them/key or most important of them (presumable the key vector)
جُزْءًا portion/section/slice/fraction/piece/bit/parcel

ثُمَّ then
ادْعُهُنَّ call them/execute the function

يَأْتِينَكَ come/comes/ (it should yield (this is a guess, any 2 pairs in order))
سَعْيًا in order/sequence
وَاعْلَمْand know/teach
اللّهَ عَزِيزٌ حَكِيمٌ God is Wise/Sage/Provident/Separate/Discrete and Powerful/Exponential

My first sloppy take, since I don't know what I'm doing:

Do While (2, 260)
Declare Cursor = 0, **The main pointer/needle set to
ground/ and other values needed for this algorithm**
Display [Value];
//**How to adapt the Area (local neighborhood) from the Infinite** (Big O?)

Declare [A,B]
Or //**Round Up, Collect; ie sum up the vector space
with torsion?**
Direct Sum ΠUT= ATÅBT
Check True? //I don't know

//make sure the Inner/Core is diminished, is this some sort of
topology investigation?//
Declare Tuple-4 (a, b, c, d)//4 of whatever is
flying around//key vector
a=c sin A = c cos B
b=c sin B = c cos A //the
legs of a right triangle//

σaθb {R} //select Key Vector/help!//
d/d(R)//cut them into pieces, discrete values, differentiate
/help!--someone must have already developed this algorithm//
the maxima
//then call /execute

Print [A,B]
Declare //God is
Wise, Powerful//

Laugh if you like, but I am not the programming genius here and You have your work cut out for You...

***As a general observation, your airfoils sure fly slow around here**


Telepathy Truth Or Dare

If you found this page no doubt you have surfed countless conspiracy theory sites on synthetic telepathy and magnetic waves and government cover ups. But the truth about telepathy is that it is really a latent human trait that can be brought about by extenuating circumstances such as a near death experience or severe chemical sensitization that affects the neural network, as related in Maxie Time.

Chemical sensitization is an allergic reaction the body can develop to a number of chemicals. Commercial examples are chemicals found in epoxy and cement resins, formaldehyde, and the like. I write chemicals, but really every substance is comprised of chemicals so if the source of the chemical is organic, it is invariably caused by toxic mold . This allergy may be pre-existing but in most cases it can be induced by prolonged contact over a course of a few days or even years. Once sensitized, even very small amounts of chemicals can bring about an allergic reaction.

The medical community formally acknowledges the physical symptoms-- such as blistering, swelling, itching, and other skin and respiratory conditions. However, acknowledging the anomalous side effects such as telepathy and remote viewing are still very much suppressed bête noire in the medical, legal and political arenas.


The Trouble with Telepathy

Mom: That had to be the longest silent phone call I have ever witnessed.

Son: Mom, haven't you heard of Telepathy?.

Mom: Well, if it's . telepathy, what do they need a phone for?.

Son: They were out of range!