I was at a party recently for a good friend’s 50th, most if not all my old mates are 50 now or just over, me being the pup at a young and spritely 48, it was great seeing everyone together after so long, it reminds me how quickly time goes, and how much people change…or don’t, living in the land of Nod.
Amongst my buddies was a chap who I’ve known of, and he’s known of me for over 30 years, we’ve always Nodded, said ‘hi, how’s it goin’, the obligatory yet sincere greetings to people we kind of Know, know of. We’ve never had a beer together, any real conversations but I had some respect for him, I knew as a younger man he was respected, a bit of a handful if pushed, now.. a heart attack on hold.
Chatting after a few beers I was saying how I’m going for a career change, his response was: ” you’ve never stuck at anything in your life”…It didn’t sink in what he’d just said, I reminded him I’ve been a brickie since 1992…”But you’ve never worked on site”…I did think that a bit odd, where does he get his perceptions from? I told him I’d lost count of the sites I’d worked on…It was left at that from what I can remember and I went to the bar, slowly it started to niggle me but I left it alone, it was a mate’s party.
If he had any acumen at all, as he knows me so well, he would be taking into consideration the doctors at both the NHS and BUPA said my days in the trade were over, I’d be on epidurals and pain relief for years to come if not for ever; to throw out the tablets and stop spinal injections, to get back to fitness, to go self employed and get back on the trowel, bricklaying and plastering, is, I feel, classed as ‘sticking to something‘, maybe he was accounting for the last time I was homeless for almost 18 months, after losing a house thanks to a poison dwarf of en ex wife, and won my battles to get housed after all and sundry said I couldn’t get a flat; also I class as ‘sticking to something’
This chap doesn’t Know me, he thinks he does, as with all our lives there are those who know us and know what’s best for us; they gossip and criticise, pass judgement on our lives, all meant for the best of course, and always in our absence. I should be more like them; work all the hours I’m told to, weekends included, and allow myself a couple of weeks per year to ‘Holiday’, I know of one such ‘builder’ who takes a couple of days PER YEAR off as a holiday with his children ….he’ll swear money and ego are not his gods, while driving around in a two seat sports car with a private plate, wearing a peak cap and a duffle coat…. Mushroom’s: kept in the dark and fed faeces.
They live in the Land of Nod, they have NO D, No Sun; when we Nod our head, when we Nod off, we lose sight of the sun… D is the diameter and the radius, the sun on the Horizon, the Egyptian ‘T’, a DeNTaL,
These people don’t shine, they bring darkness.
When we Nod, do we not Bow? does one Bow to the crown? As a Bow is used in Archery, is not the Royal Arch degree the knowledge of the great year, the procession of the equinoxes; the Zodiac?… a simple Nod, with so much encoded, right in front of those who live in the land of Nod…mushrooms.
I No longer enjoy the building game and have thought it over the last 2 or 3 years, considering injuries carried and the general wear and tear, combined with my loss of interest that a change is afoot. I have had so many laughs and learnt so much in the trade, I’ve done bypasses and bridges, sewage works to sea defences, harbour repairs to deep excavations, I can build a house or a warehouse from footings to chimney pot so I have no regrets…on the contrary.
The whole point of being self employed, apart from recovering from a back injury and 5 years off work, was to keep off the sites; hard, heavy work, long hours and travelling daily, the hypocrisy and beaurocracy, the chase chase chase of the money, man I want this and that, I want, I want… you will need a Mort gage, and a nice shiny car, burn’t into the brain of the mushroom, the whole thing was not for me anymore, and taxed? A serf in Britain who works 12 months is taxed beyond most peoples comprehension; from January to July/August, every penny goes to the tax man, Every Penny; the serf is permitted the remaining months to live the dream they are indeed in.
So tell a man at a party, or any location of your choice, that tax is by consent and he’s being robbed, or, his big powerful shiny car isn’t his, Of course it is he’ll say….don’t tax it then and see how long it stays yours!….hit them with the Mort gage frauds and fiat currency; silence with a red face , first they laugh, then, if you persist and they don’t shut down, they get angry…. indeed his taxes are contributing, not just to the most heinous of war crimes seen on this planet, or any other planet I’m aware of, they are not only voting for it, they are paying for it with their hard earned fiat…sorry…cash… to de story our very own existence!
If they respond, as I’ve heard first hand in my local pub; “they can bomb who they like as long as it isn’t here” or when I asked a female, for she is neither a lady or a woman, if she was bothered with the half a million dead Iraqi children? she shook her head. Reminding them that the jew K pays the EU £33 million smackaroos PER DAY and all by their consent, or aquiescence would be more accurate, usually causes the brain to freeze, they start to silently and inwardly simmer, bring in that the EU is a direct result of Treason and the TV they’re glued to has lied to them since the 70’s about just that, well, Now your just into boring politics….the same politics that are by design, genociding the very heart of Britain, our people, laws and customs.
My point? I suppose after years of ‘sticking to‘ research that would send insane the likes of said man at said party, I’m used to the ridicule behind my back by those who live in the dark and know nothing of me, simply because of that, they know nothing of me, still they know what’s best for not just me; but humanity, and that’s fine, they’ve always roamed the Earth and always will, let them stab you in the back, at least you know you’re in front of them, deep down, so do they, the few that truly know me; know without hesitation or doubt, outnumbered a thousand to one I’d stand firm by their side, Mort gage…no thanks…Mort for my beliefs…in a heart beat; lose the fear…we’re a long time underground.
I’ve never liked mushrooms.