Icke and me - through the looking glass

David Icke speaks openly and honestly about subjects that most people are not told about. His conclusions are his own independent findings, and he does not for one moment try to impose himself on others. He writes books and performs public speaking, often for 8 or 9 continuous hours. His public speeches attract thousands of people who pay a nominal fee to listen to him. He has lots to say, and gets his message across in a most engaging style.I, for one, am completely engrossed in what he says. He delves into some fascinating subject matter, all of which makes me wonder what the hell I was studying for 10 years during my "education".David Icke has learned so many facts and seen so many people in so many situations, that his testimony cannot be ignored. Some of the subject matter is so unusual by comparison to the normal way things are explained, that David's most difficult challenge is to break through the conditioned learning his audience have been subjected to through their education, and then to put his truth into an understandable form using the English language alone. Via illustrations, eloquent wordplay, analogy and similes, David Icke achieves this.

Once portrayed as a "nutter" by media darling Terry Wogan, David emerged from the fallout from that early foray into his spiritual awakening, and now walks a path that more and more people are choosing to walk. An advocate of the simple mantra of "free will and action without imposing it on other people" Icke's rhetoric takes on those who seek to manipulate, exploit and upset the normal man and his family. This video concludes one of his marathon talks from Brixton Academy, in London, from 2010.

How far down the rabbit hole do you want to go?

Prediction - Golden Boot English Third Division

Third Division Golden Boot for the Top Goalscorer 11/12

Jamie Proctor - Preston North End

Merry-go-round

It’s around this time of year, as the smell of barbecues and rain waft through the air, that that I like to cocoon myself from the world of football.

No longer a donkey lasher

It’s not that I need a break from watching the game, or indeed talking about it as my wife will testify, but it’s the media talking about it that I get sick of. Starved of the oxygen of actual football matches, they are forced to look elsewhere to fill their column inches. In other years we’d have the luxury of a World Cup or Euro Championship to keep our reporters occupied but in the odd years, we simply get an extra month and a half of feverish transfer speculation. Oh joy. It is the only time of year, apart from a crackpot four week spell after the New Year, when the term, “has long been an admirer of….” is ever used, as if we are talking about some forbidden tryst in a Jane Austen novel. “Mr D’arcy had long been an admirer of Miss Tevez but was certain that his paucity of wealth would hinder any enquiry for her hand.” That and the absence of a decent makeweight striker. Every possible outlet, from local rags to shiny multinational TV companies gets involved, fuelling fires from the Bernabeu to Burnley and all ports in between. Sky manage to combine the two and will gladly force feed you rumours from any level of professional football to blind you with a blizzard of information on an overcrowded screen on the seemingly never ending 15 minute loop of hyperbole that is Sky Sports News. A more apt moniker would be Sky Sports Speculation. They feed you scraps of information about possible transfers from the lower echelons of the league and worse, from far flung corners of Europe, involving players and teams with names that would not look out of place in a sci-fi movie. “Zaphod Beeblebrox completed his big money move to Dinamo Dagobah today.”  And you should see them when they get a story from the Premier League™. Talk of Crouch going here and Defoe going there has them in a right muddle (it has been statistically proven that 81% of transfer gossip involves Spurs). Pride of place on the screen goes to our trusty presenters who work themselves into a frenzy, usually with a roving reporter outside the stadium of one of the clubs ‘involved’ answering such gems as; “Do you think the manager of Rovers would be pleased to land Athletic’s star Brazilian striker?”“There’s every indication that he would as he has long been an admirer of the greasy get.”  It may be better if they were up front and said, “Of course he bloody would, he scored 60 goals last season, you tit.” It is this desperate need to cram ‘news’ into people’s living rooms that makes me yearn for the cricket field and anything that affords me some respite from the endless rumour-mongering is welcome. With every passing summer, I find myself more interested in those bastions of the stiff, golf (get in the hole!) and tennis (come on Tim!). All I ask our friends in the press is that they show me a picture now and again of some players holding aloft the scarf of their new paymasters and I’ll accept that there will no doubt have been some behind the scenes shenanigans about wages, transfer fees and bungs that preceded the ink being applied to the contract and the snap of the camera shutter. Until that moment, please keep it to yourselves and concentrate on facts.
by Luigi

'Tis better to have loved and lost....

We've all done it. Come on, admit it, you're among friends. A brief dalliance with an attractive European while on the continent. A holiday romance that although was fun was never destined, nor indeed meant to last, the sort of thing no right minded individual should dream of doing at home. I did it o n a weekend trip to Milan. I went to watch Inter and for the briefest of times, I supported a successful club I had nothing to do with.  I waved my scarf at the correct moments, joined in the orchestrated singing (as best as my appalling Italian would allow) and got frustrated when they missed chances. Although I enjoyed it immensely, during the whole experience I felt like a fraud. An interloper in something that was very real for those around me but was merely a bit of fun for me.  And this is how it must be, week in week out, for those who shun their local clubs and have their heads turned by sexy, silverware laden clubs from the opposite end of the country. I suspect that when a Manchester United fan from Swindon meets the real deal from Swinton, there is a tinge of embarrassment from the charlatan, a reddening of the neck that immediately precipitates a need to compose a plausible explanation for trying to muscle in on their counterpart's lover. To this end, our impostors tend to be mouthier versions of the genuine article and this is what irks me the most. They'll recount stories of being a child in 1976 and "seeing United in the Cup Final and being hooked." Must have been Jimmy Nicholl's hair that did it. And they lost that day so that proves they're a proper fan and not just a glory hunter. It's this rubbish that gets my goat. Be honest. You like them because they win stuff. And you don't like your local side because they don't and they're never on TV. In Milan, I pretty much kept my head down and observed. After all, this wasn't really my party. I wish others could do the same. Instead, they embrace everything about the club they have selected with a ludicrous fervour that makes them look a bit potty. The over excited displays of disgust when the local rivals appear is risible. How can someone from Devon or Kent who has decided to don the red of Liverpool, really understand the longstanding rivalry with Manchester? This is the essence of the problem. How can someone identify with a town or city they've never visited? To refer to another town's team as "we" is just plain daft. It's not "we", it is "they" and you should never waiver from that, because the team you say you love have absolutely nothing to do with you. It is someone else's club that you covet and the sooner you spend your time and efforts on those closer to home, the happier you'll be. Getting behind your local side makes sense, for a start you can go to games and get home for your tea afterwards. It's a great way to spend an afternoon, watching football. Far better than watching some people on TV watching football. You'll be able to see your team representing your town with your neighbours and fellow townsfolk. And it's great! Football isn't all about winning trophies, it's about camaraderie and belonging, belonging to something that's already yours. So get down to your local club and get involved in a little civic pride. You won't regret it. Luigi

Ayahuasca - A nice cup of tea

Games I love

Yahtzee
The traditional spotted dice cube is considered to be on of the oldest form of gambling by Historians. Several variations of dice games have been invented since its origin. Yahtzee is one such game. It is a game of great chance, luck and also of smart thinking and strategy.


Mastermind

Brain training for the 1970s. Lots of tiny plastic pieces which, if swallowed by a small child, would pass harmlessly through the bowel.
A tricky game but a lot a fun during a train journey or on any Sunday.

Paint bombs and protests

Students have one or two luxuries that their grown up counterparts do not. The luxury they have is a view of the world that is untainted by the overwhelming financial constraints handed out to their future selves by the control system called government, both local and national.
Being a student is comparable to being a passenger on the Titanic. In spiritual terms they live a pure and unhindered life, unaffected by taxes and by responsibility for self and for others. In the take take take world of growing up, no child should experience anything other than a period of self-indulgence. Students enjoy that freedom and luxury of thought and movement throughout their student years. Into the bargain they are obliged to complete a period of study in between their transition from young people to adults.
This leads to freedom of expression. And in London recently we have seen that freedom of expression manifesting itself in protests and violence at the decisions being made by the liars that sit in the houses of parliament, masquerading as "government". Liars they are, and in huge proportions. For those students in London, the iceberg approaches, and they are thrashing around to find a way out of the shit storm they are about to enter.

I am not, for one instance, condemning people for sticking their heads up in the coldest weather imaginable in this country, and making their feelings known. I am here to condemn and, at the same time, sympathise, wholeheartedly with and for the people who are jumping to condemn the young people who have reacted with rage at what is going on before their eyes.
To suggest that that the riots in London are a result - not of angry students - but of gangs hijacking the event to simply cause trouble, is to say that students are not angry enough to cause the trouble themselves, which they are. Surely, on reflection, the question "why are these people so angry?" is most pertinent.
The issue is not one of agreement or disagreement. The issue that is most disturbing is the people who seem to be queueing up to pour scorn on protesters for the passion and honest outpouring thereof.
I see something very refreshing in the reaction of the students. As for Prince Charles and Camilla. Fuck them. For once they have been found outside their bubble, and some people have let them know what they think about them.
We are told that there is no budget to invest in the future experts of this country, and at the same time the government has handed 9 Billion Pounds to the republic of Ireland. Hang on a minute. What has Ireland done for us that our youngsters have not?
The thing that surprises me most is that more extreme events have not taken place. Apart from a few injured police officers - I've met some of them - honestly, its leave your brain - and soul - at home when those tossers put on their uniforms, what real damage has been done? I would quite honestly be completely understanding if something more extreme happened than a few paint bombs and a few smashed windows. Christ, that happens every night in some parts of London and no fuss is made. Because its happening in the centre its national news. Good. I say.

It is most remarkable still that as the government were making a decision, yesterday, on tuition fees, that stands to cost families £30,000 a year when their child completes university, few were paying attention or reacting. At the same time, 14 million people were sat in front of their hypnosis machines, weeping and blubbering at the drama unfolding from Coronation Street. After that, the news reports showing students kicking off in London, and the phone calls from the sheeple of this country (the self appointed protectors of the state) demanding students be punished for having a view and expressing themselves instead of sitting on their arses, stuffing their faces with maltesers and cheap wine by the bottle every night of what pass for real life.
In Nazi Germany, if a Jew stood up and argued with a German soldier, he would have been severely punished. The way many people have reacted to these protesters demands blood much in the same way.
Rest assured, we are in a fascist state, and the people are running it themselves, without any help from the Gestapo, the Stazi or any other gun wielding thugs. We don't need them.
Don't worry. Just pay your taxes and sleep. Switch off. Coronation Street's on. Bollocks.
That said, I see this protest as a watershed of national emotion that threatens to swell in the coming years, as people wake up from the soap operas on TV to the real soap opera being played out in the civic centres, council offices, and government circles that make our decisions for us. Some of us have already woken up.