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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

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Escape Part 3:

This is part 3 of the "Escape" post I wrote. @whump-a-la-mode wrote a wonderful part 2. Which is here. Part 1 is here.

Quick fornote, this is not edited. I may look it over eventually, but beaware of mistakes and incorrect grammar. Perhaps a lot of it. Also, my creativity levels right now are like a piece of dynamite going down a waterfall, exploding, and the particles being shipped to a rocket and then discarded into space to be later burnt up by the sun.

Warnings: blood, vomit, collared whumpee, confused whumpee, exhaustion, hospital setting, needles/syringes, restrained whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, soundproof room, torture (head trauma, broken bones, beating), talk of death, referring to one as trash, fake drugs

Hero woke with a start, immediately digging her fists in the familiar mattress. She vaguely felt an odd throb right below her ribcage. Hero thought hard. She didn't recently hurt herself. Unless, of course, she cracked a rib when Villain knocked her down in the elevator. That impudent, little-

Something shifted on her lap. Hero tensed before reaching above her to flick a light on.

The sight below her made her heart skip a beat. Villain was huddled against her, clutching onto her gray t-shirt with ferocity- however weak- as if he would die otherwise. Hmph, making the little ignorant chicken did whole-heartedly believe that her attire was the only way to alleviate his suffering.

But something was wrong. Villain's face was a pallette of blood, spit, vomit. He coughed and buried his face deeper into her stomach. Quizzically, Hero looked all over him. His hands looked like he just had a punching match the plaster- the broken plaster on the wall behind him confirmed that assumption.

"Villain," Hero breathed and ran her hand over his quivering back.

A strangled whimper was the only response.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, noting his cut up heel- he wasn't allowed laces, and refused to sleep in the velcro shoes that he was granted- and the blooming flower of a bruise that erupted in the center of his forehead. Not to mention the blood, all the creamy velvet blood...

"N-no," Villain stuttered finally.

"Then get off of me." Hero proceeded to push the villain away from her, but he already did the work, spiraling onto the ground with a thump.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" Hero asked, crouching next to her foe.

"Not wrong with me," Villaim mumured. Hero scoffed. Yeah, no, Villain was perfectly healthy. He wasn't covered in blood and puke, and he definitely wasn't shaking in exhaustion.

"Sure," Hero grinned sloppily and started to take in Villain's figure. He was obviously weakened, but he was still strong. Oh so strong. His biceps were flexed- actually his whole arm was flexed, but Hero knew it was more reflexive than a boyish show-off. Even his back moved around as he breathed, muscles contracting to their maximum strength. Hero knew that he would have abs under the sweaty shirt. A hum of approval, the Villain Containment Practice really did wonders.

Yet amidst the undeniable cords of muscles, the body in front of her was truly exhausted, starved, and dehydrated. Hero doubted he would be to move, especially with the hidden injury.

It hurt Hero to watch his hand tentatively brush the collar around his neck, but it stung when it flopped back down. Maybe taking away his breakfast privileges was too much.

And perhaps snatching away his lunch, but that was all. He still had dinner, and snacks-

No, those were also taken away. Cruelly erased from his schedule and replaced with more reps. More lessons, more lectures...

The villain groaned and tried to shuffle away as spontaneously aware that Hero was in his vicinity.

"Wha' ya gonna do?" Villain slurred. His dull eyes glanced over to the plastic cup. "Gimme," he whispered.

"Manners," Hero began to warn, but stopped. Chastising such a pale prisoner would do more bad than good. She could just imagine a relaspe. Villain was doing... mediocre, but not terrible. Though the only points he received were from the continous physical exercises he performed daily.

So Hero stood up, clenching her teeth as her rib flared up again, and sauntered over to the kitchenette. She grabbed a new cup and filled it up with city water. Hero scowled- she hated this water. Once she lived in the country... the change of taste in the water was one of a kind.

Hero returned with the cup and handed it to Villain, but he immediately dropped it. Water spilled everywhere. Hero could see his skin turn red and tears spike in his eyes.

"Aww come-" Hero began, but stopped when she noticed Villain turned his head into the crook of his elbow. Hero sighed and went back for another cup.

She returned and propped Villain's limp head up. She tilted it back and ran her thumb over his lips, gently prying the shriveled muscles open. Villain, however tired, tried to refuse, glaring daggers at Hero.

"Villain," Hero growled. Villain tensed, so Hero rubbed circles on his neck. Comfort was not her greatest gift, but Villain relaxed regardless.

"You wanted water earlier," she reminded him, putting the cup to his lips. After a brief moment of hesitation, Villain greedily opened his lips and started gulping the water down.

"Slow down," Hero very rudely removed the much wanted cup from Villain. "Time for you to go to the infirmary."

"No!" Villain yelled and tried to push away from his nemesis. They may run into Nosey. What if they tried to kill Hero again? Or worse, Villain?

The trek down to the infirmary was beyond slow. Even Villain in his groggy state recognized that. The corriders and dorms all blended together into one gigantic smoothie. They didn't matter, only not running into Nosey mattered.

Hero carried him in a bridal carry. Though lithe and slender, she was strong. Very strong. Villain realized this with a pang of fear. She could easily dominate him and hurt him.

Especially if she found out that Villain saved her.

When she found out. Villain could only physically make it non-lethal and take away the majority of her pain. It still would scar and be painful to an extent, but he saved her.

He saved her.

"Using your powers is never the answer," Villain mumbled to himself. "Call the heros..."

"What's that?" Hero asked.

Villain shut up, right then and there.

"Well, okay. Here we are," Hero pushed open the door to the infirmary with her foot. The smell of disinfectant and medicine hit Villain's nose, making him want to throw up all over again.

"Hero." A deep voice. Not Nosey. He was safe, for now.

"Doctor. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Why is his collar still on?"

"Safety. I don't know. He was collapsed on top of me and throwing up."

"Maybe food poisoning. Lay him on-"

"He hasn't eaten in days, Doc."

Villain felt knew hands tenderly dabbing around the collar.

"Do you have keys for this, Hero?"

"Yeah, back pocket. Here." Hero sat Villain on the ground, using her foot to keep him upright.

"Hero?" Villain slurred. His tongue was too thick, his brain too tired to completely make sense of the dire situation. He limply rested his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes.

Healing never was this taxing.

Villain felt his head fall back, so he jerked back upwards into a strangers arms.

"Hey, Villain," the same deep voice cooed, like a baritone. Deep and eneveloping.

"Villain." Hero was behind him, but Villain hardly recognized it. He felt like he was falling into a dark abyss.

"Bring him to a bed," the doctor ordered. Villain, whisked away from the comforting promise of sleep, was rushed back into the present. He jerked and cried out, fighting against the arms that held him.

He was going to be punished. Punished for his negligence. Punished for his powers.

"Villain," Hero snarled. Her voice was taut with exasperation. "We are trying to help you."

"No!" Villain cried out, breaking free of the hero and the doctor. Blindly he scrambled away, knocking over tables. Liquids spilled everywhere. Glass cut into his palms, but he didn't care. Not when he was going to be punished.

"Twenty more laps Villain."

"Add more weight, 200 pounds isn't enough."

"I don't care. Another sit-up. With weights."

"Seven minute plank. Let's go."

All Nosey's voices. The seagull that swooped down and took his strength away, leaving him a parched rasion with only enough food to keep his body minimally functioning.

He couldn't. He couldn't be punished. He helped, he helped. Yet, Villain couldn't convince himself that was indeed the truth.

Heros never cared about the truth. That was evident when they never took the time to remove him from this jail when he was innocent. Yes, he landed the homeless man in the hospital, but it was self-defense.

Villain plummeted into a skinny nurse, laying her flat on the ground with a bleeding head. Again, not his fault. She had a horrendous looking needle.

"Villain!" Hero called out and tackled him to the ground, pining him by the wrists and keeping his torso down with a well-placed knee.

Villain threw himself upwards, trying in desperation to remove himself from Hero's grasp.

"We are going to have to sedate you if you keep this up," Hero warned. Villain froze. He couldn't unwillingly go unconscious or he would never recover from the horrors inflicted upon him. Heck, he might never wake up. The creaks in his bones, the dull ache throughout his overexerted muscles, the incessant headache- they all reminded him of his predicament.

"There we go now." Hero removed her knee and scooped Villain up, laying him on a hard hospital bed.

The doctor came around, eyeing the Villain's hands.

"Please restrain him," the doctor said and quickly walked away to grab who knows what.

Hero took the liberty to roughly shove Villain's hands into cuffs. The cuffs surrounded his hand like Elsa's cuffs in the movie Frozen. They blocked any and all chances of escape.

Escape. The once motivating words was now a nightmare.

Hero then worked to place a leather strap around his throat. Villain didn't even notice that the previous collar was removed. Now looking through the mess he made, Villain saw the collar strewn on the ground.

Another strap was placed around his torso. Hero tightened it one notch too tight, pushing his abs in. Villain groaned and glared, but it lacked intent.

Finally his ankles were attached to the bed, each dangling off the side uncomfortably.

"Okay. Good," the doctor chuckled before reappearing at Villain's side. "Let's start the exam."

"You intolerable little butthead," Nosey drawled, tossing Villain into the white room like a piece of trash. "First off completely failing tests like a kindergartener; second, being a prat and faking injuries which just led to you being punished; and third? Well, that hospital trampede was really necessary, wasn't it?"

"And what are you gonna do?" Villain retorted. "Wave your little middle finger at me and yell all your stupid insults? Honestly, brainiac, you sound like a dying cat."

Of course, Villain did not say any of this. He just thought it, an undying wish that threatened to bounce off his tongue.

"No answer?" Nosey asked, leaning against an ivory wall. Villain wondered if it was once pure white, but all the blood spillage stained it.

Now that wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Nope," Villain replied, completely compliant.

"You know I love the little stunt you played with healing dear Miss Hero," Nosey stalked over to the villain. "But my employer does not."

Villain vividly remembered the way Nosey's face paled when they laid eyes on Hero. And then he also definitely remembered the way Nosey snarled at him- wild and feral, ready to maim and kill.

"Wanna know how much killing her depended on my livelihood? Heck, I would've made thousands and then be promoted to her position. My employer, Superhero, is now furious at me. Hero, that goody two shoes and her 'redeemed the villains' morals are quite old-schooled. Don't you think? We need a more... let's say modern approach to dealing with you monsters." Nosey's black pointed boot pressed against Villain's cheek before it slashed down with such force that it should've knocked Villain out.

But, stupid enhanced healing powers delegated by the doctor always made the promise of black bliss an impossibility.

But the enhancement was temporary. Just enough to replenish Villain's utter exhaustion.

Nosey's fingers grasped onto Villain next finding a perfect pressure point on his throat. Villain squealed, his neck was still bruised and tender from the collar.

"Do you want to know what it feels like to suffocate? Villain? Hmm?" Nosey spoke quickly, not even giving Villain a chance to shake- or nod, if Villain wanted to go that route- before they started to press right against Villain's trachea.

"Lack of air. Painfully at first, but the moment you black out. The moment that death is almost upon you is precious," Nosey spoke through clenched teeth as excitement and adrenaline overtook him. Villain, on the other hand, was overtaken by fear as he wiggled around like a frying worm.

Almost as suddenly as the hand was placed, it was removed. Villain blinked away the black blotches and took gulping breaths.

"Pathetic," Nosey growled and grabbed the back of Villain's neck, picking him up, and ramming him against the wall. An volcano of stars erupted in Villain's vision as the room tilted.

Nosey smacked him against the wall like that a couple more times before grabbing onto his wrist and stepping down. A crack and a scream echoed throughout the soundproof room like dynamite.

"Think you are done. Do you think that you are done!" Nosey laughed wickedly as they discarded the villain on the ground.

Then the beating took place. Kicks and rabbit chops battered Villain's body until he couldn't even move to defend himself. Unconsciousness loomed at his vision, but each new flare of pain brought him back to the waking world.

His broken arm loosely hung, a bone popping out of the skin, as his body convulsed. But Nosey wasn't done. No, they went over to the wall and grabbed a wooden bat and began to hit Villain until his ribs began to break. One crack after the other, after the other-

Nosey flopped down on the ground next to Villain, carefully cradling their own head with their left hand as their right picked Villain's up.

"Do you see that window Villain?" Nosey asked. "It leads right out into the city. We are even on the first story. An easy escape if you weren't so weak." Nosey wrapped their arm around Villain's heaving shoulders in a brotherly fashion. "But that's okay. You can stay with me," Nosey chuckled and grabbed Villain's chin, prying his mouth open. The villain gurgled and spat in response, but allowed Nosey to keep him in that hold.

Nosey reached into their back pocket and revealed a syringe.

"Power suppressant. Don't worry, I know your weakness. Can't be drugged or you will die. Blah blah blah. Hero's mind reading powers are good for one thing at least. But this-" Nosey stroked the clear syringe and whistled. "-is a masterpiece."

Villain tried to remove his throbbing head, but Nosey's grib was too strong.

"Can't have you dying on me when we are having so much fun," Nosey wrapped Villain into a close hug as they plunged the needle into his neck.

"Enjoy your stay," Nosey chuckled before leaving the room.

Before leaving Villain, alone and in pain, to deal with himself.

#villain whumpee #hero whumper #hero whumpee #in a way #continuation #escape #part 3 #torture #broken bones #exhausted whumpee #poor villain #tw needles

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 4 years ago

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‘Ashamed to be Korean' extract — the Moon scam is paid for in blood, poverty, misery, sickness and death by a slave class of Japanese

September 30, 2012 This has been incredibly hard to do, but I have decided to sacrifice my national pride, personal interest and loyalties to start telling the truth about the complicated religious scams of the Moons and the so-called “Unification Movement”.

Why? Because I guess I discovered that I still had some conscience left alive somewhere inside of me, so I decided to come out and tell the truth, and before it shrivels up totally. Another reason for me to come out is the tragic and shameful truth that the Moon scam is paid for in blood, poverty, misery, sickness and death by a slave class of Japanese who have been, and continue to be, what must be the most hapless class of religious scam victims in history. This is worsened by the fact that the victims have been deliberately and cynically scammed by a group from another country.

I have no love or respect for the Japanese, and like most Koreans, I have rarely missed an opportunity to gloat at any Japanese misfortune with other Koreans but I guess I have to draw the line somewhere.

It is my intention to tell the truth about the Moons and the Korean feudal ‘aristocracy’ from the position of an insider in the hope that those members who still have enough of a vestigial conscience left functioning in themselves can know the unvarnished truth and fully understand the crimes that have been, and are still being, committed and either help stop the crimes from being committed, or at least walk away and not contribute even silently to these crimes. … It has been said that one of the problems with the Moon Church is that every country projects their own image of what they want the “Messiah” to be; The Japanese see an emperor to grovel to and worship, westerners saw Moon as the the second coming of Jesus, while for the Koreans a conquering King that will elevate Koreans above all other nations (you might as well know we think we are superior to the rest of the world physically, spiritually, intellectually, and culturally). Therein the problem starts, Moon’s genius was to able to manipulate facts and myths and lies to divide and conquer and get exactly what he wanted for him and his family and for Korea which has created the core culture and operating practice of the movement: Deception.

Some people may think that the Divine Principle is the religious doctrine of the ‘church’, but it is nothing more than a recruiting tool. The real ‘religion’ is like an onion, with separate layers of rules, requirements and benefits. The easiest way to understand the game is to realize that Moon wanted to set him and his family as a royal family governing as a theocracy from day one. His goal was to control all power, money, laws and rules, at least as much as he could get hold of.

The theocracy works by strict hierarchy with the Moons as the top royals, the Korean blood relatives as the minor royals, the rest of the Koreans as the aristocracy and top officials. The rest of the nations are all in the position of servants. The only absolute in the Moon church is the position of the Moons and the loyalty demanded from the members.

Have you wondered why all top posts involving power and money are controlled by Koreans?

Do not be fooled by the fact that we trust the Japanese more than our own and use then nominally to hold assets and the like – that is only because they are totally obedient.

What Moon and his family fear the most is meritocracy, God forbid if there was a level playing field, the whole game would be blown sky high. It is fantastic for us though, to have rules applied not only in a selective way but completely differently to always ensure the Moons and ourselves are on top.

My greatest personal amazement is how supposedly educated people in advanced countries have bought the enslaving myths of Moon that have in fact been precisely tailored for them without them realizing the utter insanity and nonsense of coexistence of completely contradicting realities and myths and rules, without even acknowledging the irony of it all! Maybe we are much cleverer than you.

The Japanese have bought the fantasy of ‘Eve Nation’, when in reality there never was and still is absolutely no intention to use them for any purpose other than for donations and slave labor. If and when they are no longer needed they will be dropped like a dirty habit in favor of another country (if one was available), this threat has been constantly drummed in to their heads to keep them desperate and obedient.

What they do not realize is that in private Sun Myung Moon, when he was alive, Hak Ja Han and all the Moon children and we 2nd gens in the inner circle not only have no respect for Japan and instead gloat at the way in which Korea has been taking over Japanese business, laugh at the Japanese members and refer to them in really raw, rude ways. We see it as a rightful revenge for what we think they did to us. On the other hand, we never fail to remind them of the indemnity they need to pay to us.

I have heard Japanese old members emotionally talk about how they will accept anything because they had felt loved by “Aboji” at some time. When they say this, they remind me of rabbits caught in the headlights, totally bamboozled by the Korean charismatic gift for delivering shameless emotional appeals at 1000 horsepower. The reason they were taken in is because they had only ever experienced emotion in Japan at 100 horsepower before meeting Moon, so they are convinced that 1000 horsepower emoting must be the real thing.

Given the Japanese unfortunate penchant for masochism, perhaps it is not surprising that they have been fooled, but I am truly amazed that more Westerners have not been able to see through this scam.

My jaw drops as members still refer to the Moons as “True”, as an unending string of evidence of their unbridled wickedness and hypocrisy appears on this and other sites, it makes me giggle involuntarily, as I watch Westerners falling over themselves to justify or deny their crimes contorting themselves to deny the truth.

My only explanation for it is commitment bias, nobody wants to admit they have been fooled. Please read the facts honestly and use your conscience to decide what to do. Remember the laws of physics and math, the laws of countries and most importantly of all the laws of morals and values either apply equally and universally or not at all.

Members have been trained like Pavlov’s dogs to do our (more accurately the Moons’) dirty work for us. Foreign members justify our crimes with that precise get-out-of-jail-free card that the whole Moon scam relies on.

Read more here: https://tragedyofthesixmarys.com/ashamed-to-be-korean/

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In 1965 Japan gave $800 million as reparations for their occupation of Korea

The Japanese government supported Korea with $800 million in 1965, $400m in 1983 and over $10 billion in 1997.

Sun Myung Moon Church used the Japanese members for profit, not religious purposes – the world’s greediest church

Suicide of Japanese ‘Moon money mule’ in Uruguay. Mother of three children

A huge Moon Church scam in Japan is revealed

Shocking video of UC of Japan demanding money – English transcript

Moon extracted $500 million from Japanese female members

Japanese woman recruited by the Unification Church and sold to an older Korean farmer

How Sun Myung Moon bought protection in Japan

The ‘True Father’ who could not forgive. Sun Myung Moon: “I haven’t been able to release my grudge towards Japanese people yet.” November 2011

#Sun Myung Moon #Hak Ja Han #scam #extortion #Unification Church #Korea #Japan

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be-better-writing · 5 years ago

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Daily Writing Day 9 - 1/6/2020

What brings a tear to the eye? (It could be happy tears!)

This prompt is fitting for today as it is the 12th anniversary of my uncle being tragically from this world. I wrote a little fictional tale based on his memory that caused my little sister to break down and cry this morning. Between my little story and my sister being two states away crying over essentially my creative expression. Today has been rough. Today 12 years ago brings tears to my eyes, and so does this little story.

"The Tape-Man and The TapeMonster" An original story written by Brittany Lyn on December 29, 2019. Part two written on January 6, 2020. Dedicated to the man who taught me what tape was, how to pull it from the dispenser, and how to stick it to everyone and everything in sight. The man who created the TapeMonster. The Tape-Man. Uncle Jody Becknell. May he Rest In Peace while hunting and fishing every day in Heaven. You are so dearly loved and dearly missed each and every day, sir. Thank you for blessing my life, my heart, and my soul with your everlasting memory. One day, a little young lady was strolling along. Bobbing and weaving between the trees, skipping over roots, and jumping on stumps. Off in the distance, an alarm rang out calling for the hero that hides within. She ducked behind a tree within the blink of an eye, but what came back was quite the sight. No longer was visible her pink dress and boots, but her face covered in tape, her whole outfit, too. Out from the trees the TapeMonster leapt, and down the road it tumbled down to land on it's rear at the sound of that ferocious alarm. *~WEEEEEEEEEEWOOOOOOO~* that horrendous contraption screeched, but that wouldn't stop this little TapeMonster now. It burst through the door, spun the thieves up tight with a roll of simple Scotch tape. Just in time, the police arrive to find the crooks bound by simple Scotch tape, with a note slapped right on their face. "Never fear, the TapeMonster was here!" the note read. Puzzled and shook, the police are confused! The only thing here was the menaces bound by simple Scotch tape. "Where did this TapeMonster hide?" they questioned, but it had seemingly vanished, leaving only the tape bounds holding the robbers in place. But, just out the door, across the street, the tape covered monster was bounding away, off to the man who supplied her with tape rolls. Peeling the tape, piece by piece. The little girl laughed and laughed and laughed some more. She was back on the counter in Mr. Jody's pawn shop. He kept sticking her with tape while her imagination ran free. The TapeMonster rests having saved the day. The thieves were locked away in Imagination's Jail, and the police of Imagination Town went about their way, questioning the identity of this brave creature armed with Scotch tape. The little girl laughed and sat on the counter, and played more games of TapeMonster with Mr. Jody, her very best and dearest friend, who would stick her with tape, supplying the TapeMonster again. He stuck the tape on her again, and again, and again before the little girl's parents joined their fun. "Time to go, punkin'. Give Jody bye-bye sugars," her mother said softly, as the little one jumped into her very best and dearest friend's hug, and kissed him on the cheek, and saying "bye-bye." "Until next time, punkin'," Mr. Jody said with a squeeze. "I hope you bring the TapeMonster back to play next time." "I will, Mr. Jody!" the little girl exclaimed as she hugged her friend again. "The TapeMonster will always come to play!" she sang out with glee, as she stuck one small strip of Scotch tape to Mr. Jody's t-shirt. Jody walked his little friend around the counter to her mom and dad for their journey back home, and all 4 embraced in the strongest and warmest group hug. Farewells were said, and the little one strapped into her seat, as she clutched the surprise Mr. Jody gave to her; the little roll of Scotch tape that was just bigger than her hands. A token for the TapeMonster whenever she needs. "Never fear!" she shouted gleefully from the car. "The TapeMonster is here!" the two friends called out as they waved good-bye. "Until next time, punkin'," he said to himself, as his little friend and her parents drove off in the distance. "The Tape-Man will always have sugars, and hugs, and always an extra roll of tape for whenever a criminal causes chaos up in Imagination Town," he finished just as the tail lights faded off over a hill. He stepped inside the shop while peeling the tiny tape strip off his t-shirt. he taped it to a small piece of paper he scribbled on, and slid it in his wallet; a memory of a little friend with a wild imagination stored away for safe keeping. A little strip of Scotch tape on a small slip of paper that read, "Never fear, the TapeMonster is here!" A memory so pure that no one else could create but Mr. Jody, the one and only Tape-Man to see the real TapeMonster with his own two eyes... ~

Part 2~

The little three year old TapeMonster continued to grow and play and save the days for the next eight years, while getting the occasional grand visits from Mr. Jody, the almost elusive Tape-Man. Until one dark winter night, tragedy struck. Mr. Jody had left this beautiful life on Earth to spend eternity with God in Heaven. The now eleven year old TapeMonster was lost, clutching in her hand the gifted roll of magic Scotch tape with tears streaming down her face.

Days went by, and she placed a roll of her own magic Scotch tape under his carefully folded hands for burial with a note that read "Use in case of bad guys; a piece of the TapeMonster's bravery to keep you safe. Till we meet again, Tape-Man. Your spirit lives on."

Life went on with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. The TapeMonster couldn't find any Scotch tape and Imagination Town was overtaken by the very many evil doers that she couldn't put away without the Tape-Man's supply.

Six years flew by before she realized, and she was more lost than the years before. Mr. Jody was in Heaven guiding his family through their lives, but it just wasn't the same.

Another six years go by in the blink of an eye. I'm 23 now, turning 24 in 6 months and 2 days. Today marks twelve years that Mr. Jody, who truly was more like an uncle than a friend, was taken tragically from this Earth, leaving our lives better for knowing him in his life, but also leaving the world a darker place without his love and charisma. If I drank, I'd have two mini bottles of Grey Goose and a roll of that simple Scotch tape sitting on the step beside me. One mini bottle to pour to the ground for tribute to Jody, and the other to enjoy myself before wrapping a small piece of Scotch tape around and hiding it and the roll in my hope chest to look back on and smile as time continues to pass us by.

Those twelve years really flew by, but when I stop and look back, it seems more like a lifetime had passed.

Jody, the TapeMonster is so very lost on her journey of life hunting for tape to stop the bad guys from taking over the world. God knows just how lucky I truly am, though. I am blessed to have known and loved you while you were here. I am blessed to have gained through you an adopted mom, an older brother, and a little sister that I have also made great memories with. God also knows it still hurts like hell to experience life without you here, too.

This story is a wild piece fiction based off of my memory of Jody. Memories from 20 years ago are fuzzy as all hell, but the feelings in my heart are just as they were upon experiencing them. I posted the first part the other day while hoping it wouldn't produce the same massive amounts of crocodile tears for Dana, Taylor, and Randy as it did for me. I haven't gotten any feedback from them yet, so I hope part two doesn't make them cry like I am while typing this. I just truly hope that the wild fictional adventure of the TapeMonster combined with the memory of Jody warms their heart knowing that we all still have memories of him to pick us up when we are down, and to carry in our hearts so his spirit lives on each day that lies ahead.

Rest In Peace to one of the greatest life influences to ever be a part of my world. We love and miss you so much. ~

My dates of writing this piece are written at the top with my little dedication, but the end is where it really tore my sister apart. I should have thought before posting it, or I should have read it to her myself. I'm not sure. Today has been a train wreck. Jody is watching us from the Gates of Heaven, though. I felt his presence today. Especially after I reminded my father of the anniversary. He actually brought home a moderate size bottle of Grey Goose without me asking. I haven't had a sip of that vodka, and I won't. Jody set something up for tomorrow for me, or at least that's the way it seems. I plan not to mess that up by being hungover.

Between this date, and the anniversary of my best friend committing suicide, I don't know which one kills me more.

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bbclesmis · 6 years ago

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Can the BBC’s Les Misérables do justice to Victor Hugo’s epic novel?

Few who love Les Mis the musical have read its source: a 1,500-page Victor Hugo novel. As the BBC tackles the book, David Bellos explains why it’s such a popular text to adapt.

The Sunday Times, December 16 2018, 12:01am

At dawn on June 19, 1815, in a muddy Belgian field where Napoleon has just lost his last battle, a scavenger filches the watch and purse of a dying soldier; a few weeks later, a long-term inmate of Toulon jail is released with a yellow passport and 109 francs. That’s where interlocking stories of Les Misérables begin, with Thénardier robbing the father of Marius, and Valjean setting off towards Digne.

If you think the magic of Les Mis comes mainly from the operatic version by Boublil and Schönberg, wait until you see the new adaptation by Andrew Davies, drawn from the book and not, like Tom Hooper’s 2012 film, from the musical, which leaves out most of Hugo’s novel’s story and doesn’t even mention the Battle of Waterloo. Davies’s script begins at the beginning, and the director, Tom Shankland, makes a truly memorable opener out of it.

Any adaptation of Les Misérables stands in a global tradition of spin-offs in every medium. In the cinema alone, there are about 70 full-length Misérables, in languages as varied as Russian, Farsi and Arabic. In Japan, there has been an independent strain of Mis-mania, expressed in manga and animé, for 100 years.

It’s not hard to see why Les Misérables is so much more attractive to dramatists than any other novel of the 19th century. Despite long passages of historical and philosophical discussion, Hugo’s saga of the poor has a simple narrative arc. It tells the redemptive life story of the former convict Valjean, from his release at Toulon to his death in Paris 20 years later. And, despite the sufferings that fill its pages, it is an optimistic story of how a man from the bottom of the pile may aspire to goodness and achieve it through persistence and sacrifice (plus the kind of luck that novels can invent). That’s dramatic enough.

Hugo was also a dramatist of genius. He created grand scenes ready for staging. The candlestick episode at Digne; the courtroom in Arras, where Valjean gives himself up to save an innocent man; the hold-up in Boulevard de l’Hôpital and Valjean’s escape from it; and the opening vision of a vulture-like thief robbing a dead man the morning after the greatest battle ever fought. Nearly all these great scenes feature a hero, part Hercules, part Christ, who defines himself through actions, not through thoughts and words. In fact, Valjean hardly says a word to himself, and not many to other people, either.

This leaves adapters and directors free to create their own image of this mythical figure. We’ve had a Valjean who looks like a tramp (the rough-hewn Harry Baur in Raymond Bernard’s 1934 film) and one who looks like a banker (in the Japanese TV serial), alongside handsome young men (Fredric March, Liam Neeson) and an action-movie star (Jean-Paul Belmondo) who had trouble pretending to be the right age. What we’ve not had is a Valjean who looks like Hugo: a short, broad-shouldered man in late middle age, in remarkably good physical shape. Despite being too tall, Dominic West, in this new TV version, comes closer than most. Les Misérables is not autobiographical (Hugo never went to prison, got buried alive or went down the sewers), but the writer’s moral self-identification with the suffering hero is one of the fundamental strengths of his book.

It was destined for the stage from the start. Even before the last volumes went on sale in July 1862, Charles Hugo, the writer’s son, began drafting a stage spectacular. A script doctor was hired to get it into shape for its premiere in Brussels in January 1863. It still flopped. But, published as a book, it influenced adaptations as to what to cut and keep.

The addition of music also has roots older than the West End musical version. Almost as soon as the first American translation of the novel appeared, a dramatist called Albert Cassedy dashed off Fantine, or The Fate of a Grisette, a popular opera with a score by Charles Koppitz. Music also plays an overlooked role in the novel: the tune Cosette practises on her piano- organ and the songs sung by schoolgirls in the Champs-Elys��es, by convicts on tumbrils, by students in restaurants, hummed by a hunter in the woods and shouted out by an urchin on his way to the barricade, make up a concert programme of popular music in 19th-century France. It’s time to dust these off and perform them as the music Hugo had in his head.

Britain has had an unhappy relationship with Hugo’s epic tale because its authorised translation, by a retired military gentleman with his own views about what happened at Waterloo, was a complete disaster. For legal reasons, no new version could be brought out for decades thereafter. It didn’t help that the translation was available only in a costly hardback format.

Les Misérables reached its real audience in Britain through stage plays, and it’s amazing to see just how many there were: Charity, by CH Hazlewood, “founded on Victor Hugo’s story of Les Misérables”, was performed in London in November 1862; then came Jean Valjean, by Harry Seymour, Clarance Holt’s Out of Evil Cometh Good, in 1867, and many more. They concentrated heavily on Part I of Hugo’s five-part novel. The battle scene at Waterloo in Part II and the “revolutionary” stories of Parts IV and V seem to have been ignored most of the time.

In Russia, too, Tolstoy’s retelling of Les Misérables in simple language focused on Bishop Myriel’s charitable gift of silver to a rough customer. It was this fable-like episode, transposed into English by Norman McKinnel as The Bishop’s Candlesticks in 1908, that was turned into a silent short film by Herbert Brenon in 1913, which was then remade with a soundtrack in 1929. It never stopped, leaving Andrew Davies with a rich inheritance to renew — and to overturn. But he keeps one of the glitches that early translators made and that all Hollywood movie versions retain: he has Valjean steal the bishop’s silver cutlery, whereas in the novel he steals his silver plates (the French word “couvert” having changed its meaning).

One reason why Les Misérables has been remade in so many languages and periods is sex, or, more precisely, its total absence. It wasn’t prudery that kept Hugo off the topic. (He had plenty of experience, to put it politely.) But Les Misérables is about justice, social morality, crime, punishment, the meaning of history and the full potential of human life.

It’s true that old Gillenormand boasts of his past as a rake, but at 90 years of age, he’s long past acting out. It’s also true that Fantine becomes a prostitute — but Hugo deals with the episode in just seven words. Adaptations that put sex into the story express not what Hugo wrote about, but what some audiences are expected to find alluring.

On the other hand, a belief in the existence of a god is integral to the book’s meaning. Deeply sceptical of the Catholic church, Hugo omits Christian artefacts and rituals (including midnight Mass at Montfermeil and the church wedding of Cosette and Marius) to a degree that is almost comical in a panorama of 19th-century life, but he insisted that Les Misérables was a religious work. The prismatic glint of sunlight through foliage that Shankland deploys in the new BBC version, to show the start of Valjean’s conversion after robbing Petit-Gervais, seems to me an intelligent and respectful way of hinting at what Hugo meant.

One of the more puzzling aspects of Les Misérables and its flourishing international afterlife is its exclusive focus on France. There’s not a single foreigner among the 120 named characters in the novel; barring occasional remarks about London, Poland and the United States, Les Misérables talks exclusively about the history, politics, social structure and social ills of the country that Hugo considered to be top nation for all time, namely his own.

Though largely written in Guernsey and initially published in Belgium, the book was written for the French by a man whose long exile had no foreseeable end. Its first translator into Italian requested permission to cut historical passages because “there are some Italians, rather a lot in fact, who say: ‘This book, Les Misérables, is a French book. It is not about us. Let the French read it as history, let us read it as a novel.’”

Permission was refused. The intensity and completeness of this exposition of the social ills in 19th-century France effectively turned that now mythical place into a stand-in for the whole world. You can’t blame Hugo for not being in tune with 21st-century ideas of the politically correct, but you have to admire him for standing outside the conventions of his day.

His response to the translator has a prophetic sense, and answers in advance the question of why his French-focused masterpiece continues to attract readers, fans and adapters all over the world: “I do not know whether [my book] will be read by all, but I wrote it for everyone... Social problems go beyond borders. The sores of the human race, these running sores that cover the globe, don’t stop at red or blue lines drawn on the map. Wherever men are ignorant and desperate, wherever women sell themselves for bread, wherever children suffer for want of instruction or a warm hearth, Les Misérables knocks on the door and says, ‘Open up, I have come for you.’”

David Bellos is the author of The Novel of the Century: The Extraordinary Adventure of Les Misérables (Penguin £10.99). Les Misérables starts on BBC1 on Dec 30 at 9pm; Dominic West is interviewed in the Magazine next Sunday

‘The Glums’: a potted history

● The full text of Les Misérables in the right order of reading was not available to British readers until 2008, in a version by the Australian writer Julie Rose.

● In 1897, the Lumière brothers shot a one-minute reel of a quick-change artist masquerading as Hugo, Valjean, Thénardier, Marius and Javert. This was the first time fiction had ever appeared on celluloid film.

● Victor Hugo’s wife, Adèle, operated as publicity manager for the novel’s launch. She created a poster campaign featuring illustrations of the main characters, making the novel’s imminent appearance known long before its publication. Nothing like that had been done before. She also had announcements prepared for newspapers and requested that they were held back from publication until she gave the signal, making Les Misérables probably the first work launched under embargo.

● When Hugo was ready to publish Les Misérables in 1862, he secured the publishing deal of all time: in today’s terms, he was paid about £3m as an advance on a contract allowing the publisher Albert Lacroix to print the book for just eight years. Lacroix had to get a huge bank loan to finance the book.

● Charles Dickens met Hugo in Paris in 1847, visiting his splendid apartment on Place Royale. There is not a trace of the event in Hugo’s records, which suggests the British author didn’t make a strong impression on the literary star of his day. In Dickens’s eyes, though, Hugo looked “like the Genius he was”.

● Hugo’s contemporaries weren’t all taken with his novel: “This book is written for catholico-socialist shitheads and for the philosophico-evangelical ratpack,” Gustave Flaubert wrote to a friend.

● When Hugo fled France in 1851, both his sons were in prison and Louis-Napoléon — Napoléon III — was his sworn enemy. “Because we had Napoléon le Grand, do we have to have Napoléon le Petit?” he quipped.

● Les Misérables has been adapted for radio and cinema more times than any other novel.

● Classical literary French had a restricted vocabulary. Racine got by with about 2,000 words. Hugo uses about 20,000 different words in the 630,000 words of the text of Les Misérables — maybe as many as in all of Shakespeare working in English, which has a much larger vocabulary in the first place.

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/magazine/culture/can-the-bbcs-les-miserables-do-justice-to-victor-hugos-epic-novel-50wtqgvdj?t=ie

#les mis bbc #bbc les mis #articles #David Bellos #victor hugo #spoilers #episode 1

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theantisocialcritic · 8 years ago

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This AntiSocial Life: Borealis and Artistic Purity

Storytelling is one of the hardest jobs their is. The reason why is both simple and frustratingly complex. Stories require specific functions in order to create their desired function and most people don’t recognize those things. This is often the mile high hurdle that pushes down against young creatives as they struggle to try and create their own place to express themselves to an audience. Most people are il-equipped to handled such tasks. This isn’t for a lack of trying or creativity on the part of most people of course. It’s just a problem of difficulty that our greatest stories are so hard to grasp and recreate and most people never end up learning the skills necessary to do so.

Growing up the closest I ever came to throwing my hat in the ring was with the Machinima fad of the late 2000s. The fad came as something of a strange artistic wave within the gaming community. Born in the 90s by the hands of a group of Quake gamers who created short narrations based in the world of the game, the phenomena launched in popularity after the breakout success of a small web series called Red vs Blue. The pitch was a simple parody of the in game mechanics of Halo: Combat Evolved’s multiplayer engine but the small Austin, Texas crew struck gold. 15 years later the same crew how own and operate their own Film studio.

Machinima is a very simple concept but complicated in execution. In essence, Machinima involves using video games as the base medium to tell visual stories such as webseries and movies. To accomplish machinima in the earlier days was rather difficult. The process usually involved multiple players controlling different in game avatars and one player to function as the dedicated “camera” from whom the in game content would be recorded. From there the recorded material is edited down into traditional movie form. The process is one that initially required a great deal of time, patience, technical expertise and cooperation in order to pull off. The Quake videos and Red vs Blue did so like gangbusters.

Red vs Blue’s runaway success reverberated up the chains of both Halo’s developers at Bungie and the gamers who loved the show. The popularity of the show gained so much attention that the developers of the game themselves personally gave the show the green light to continue without worry of legal issues from the publisher. Not long after new shows such as the dramatic series The Codex and the talk show This Spartan Life quickly rose to prominence and critical acclaim. Given that the fad had arisen via the success of the Halo franchise it was only natural that the studio would come to recognize the golden goose they held.

With rising popularity Bungie Studios sought to give their machinima fan base the ultimate boon. That boon was the famed Theater Mode. When Halo 3 released in 2007 the mode was one of the game’s most innovative and popular functions. Allowing the player to replay footage of their prior games and position the camera at will, theater mode was the ultimate gift to machinima fans. No more did Machinima require intensive multi-television set ups and multiple people. Now anyone with an Xbox 360 and four controllers could effectively create their own machinima. Namely myself…

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Yah… This embarrassing piece of storytelling was adolescent me’s attempt as creating his own Machinima and it sucks really badly. Not to mention it ripped off multiple other major Machinima series. Normally I don’t enjoy showing this off as it has stood for a while now as something of a personal blemish but I here I think offers a fascinating example of what Machinima was like at it’s height. Almost anyone could do it and often it failed. Occasionally though genuinely great creators managed to find their own strange, funny and/or creative niche to express and brought it to bear. To help foster this came the rise of one of YouTube’s most famous, beloved and hated channels, Machinima. Founded by some of the creators of the Quake videos, the channel became a hub at the height of the machinima craze (approximately 2007-2013).

The channel’s great innovation was it’s ability to channel great talent into one place and keep them churning out consistent work. Shows like the wildly nihilistic and funny Arby n the Chief and the sketch comedy Sanity Not Included represented much of the best output of Machinima at the height of it’s popularity. Smaller but solid shows like the cult hit Phil also joined the highlights of Machinima at it’s height. Even with all the strong headliners Machinima’s best gift to the form was it’s ability to promote and release the smaller, less well know shorts that talented Machinima creators were churning out. Wonderful comedic bits like The De-Ranker, Gears of Halo-Theft Auto 5, New Halo Update, Birthday Surprise, The Wall, Bungie Police and Everything is Going to Be Alright hit the web to enormous fanfare with hundreds of thousands, sometimes even millions of views. For me though, one of these sketches has always stood above it’s contemporaries. Though seemingly innocuous on it’s surface and rather lacking a flashy surface compared to it’s contemporaries, i’ve always felt that this short stands head and shoulders above it’s entire medium for the very simple reason that it may be it’s entire form’s example of a pure artistic statement. That short is titled Borealis.

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As much as anyone else i’m all about fun and games. Machinima is nothing if it isn’t a great form for comedy. The inherent problem with Machinima as a form though is that of any art form I can imagine, no other one suffers such enormous creative limitations as Machinima. This genre quite literally is trapped within the confines of the games it is based on. Complex storytelling is immediately forced down by the inevitability of having to find some sort of in story explanation why everyone wears armored suites and carries assault rifles. Naturally there are a few get out of jail free cards for Machinima writers to pull in a pinch. 1. Set the Story Within the confines of Playing a Multiplayer Video Game 2. Set the Story Within the Canonical Universe of the Game

These solutions worth well in a pinch and many great Machinima creators worked out great sketches using them. The problem of course with this comes down to esotericism. Either of these options leaves you telling a story about either Halo or the experience of playing Halo. That’s it. Given that most creators working in Machinima weren’t master storytellers it was rare to see shorts that didn’t devolve into self reference and inside jokes for die hard gamers. Right off the bat this is a huge part of what makes Borealis so unique amongst it’s peers. It manages to be a story both separate from and informed by it’s origins.

There is no reference in the short at all to Halo or any elements of the stories involved. On the flip side of things, with the exception of the voice acting no element of the short’s production exists outside of the game work. Even the music itself is drawn from the soundtrack of Halo 3: ODST. It’s an excellent synthesis of machinima’s natural limitations being embodied by an original story. On top of that it’s one of the only memorable Machinima I know of that wasn’t a comedy. Most series and shorts chose comedy because the absurdity made for good humor. Borealis actually chooses the harder root and tries to tell a serious story. The end result is a haunting, melancholy little poem about anxiety and one’s place in the greater scheme of things.

On the downside it isn’t a subtle exploration of the topic. The story doesn’t give way to much real drama and the characters play out the themes of the piece word for word telling you pretty much exactly what they want you to think about. Greater implications can be thought of but I can’t imagine many of these characters truly existing beyond the small six minute snippet that we actually get shown in the picture. To be fair of course much of this is problems of the genre of Machinima as a whole as opposed to merely being this film’s fault. With rare exceptions Machinima isn’t an art form guided by a subtle hand. It’s primarily a niche entertainment genre and it has it’s strengths in inside jokes and subtle nodes to things most fans of Halo and other games would recognize. The closest I can imagine to a subtle hand in the genre comes out of later years Arby n the Chief which heavily relied upon darker themes and shocking plot turns. Borealis flaws and all certainly holds up amongst the best of them.

When I call Borealis a poem I truly mean it as such. More than in it’s storytelling I find it to be a surprisingly thoughtful spoken word speech of these two characters musing on their place in the universe at one small place in one small time. This is a story about a confused young person being guided by an external force to help set his place in the universe. He starts out as a soldier, confused and alone. Sergeant Gabrial shepards him through his moment of frustration to find perspective to the state of things. His life will ultimately be defined by his choices. He very much is a small, insignificant person lost in the universe, but that universe will remember him for what he choses. The short then ends on a question to the viewer asking them the same haunting question. How will the things you do echo in the halls of eternity?

Director Robert Merritt of Hallow Robot Productions who originally collaborated with Machinima’s Directing Program, Euphorian Films and Daemon Productions was kind enough to sit down with me for a Skype interview last fall to discuss the film and the eventual decline of Machinima and Machinima.com. Unfortunately coinciding with the departure of director Jon Graham from Arby n the Chief in 2013, Machinima.com began phasing out it’s directors program. In time regular contacts to the site began falling out and more and more films were being rejected as the company’s internal politics shifted and the company moved to reshape itself into something more legitimate from a business standpoint. The channel has gone on to partner with a number of major corporations in providing distribution for content for series such as Halo and the Justice League. Creators like Lyle Burrus and Dexter Manning who had previously highly successful jobs with Machinima broke out onto their own and eventually ceased YouTube as their full-time work. Several members of Machinima’s internal gaming crew once known as Inside Gaming even fled ship and reformed as a subsidiary of Rooster Teeth known as Funhaus. Rooster Teeth itself which still maintain’s Red vs Blue as it’s theoretical flagship has diversified it’s content so widely into live action comedy sketches, reality TV, feature films, gaming commentary and animation has largely abandoned Machinima it’s focus. Similarly so most of Borealis’s creators have moved on to various pursuits such as video game live streaming, video game development and filmmaking. Robert himself is currently working video games and CGI animation. He was involved in production of the flash game Office Freakout which was featured by YouTube celebrity Markiplier and works commission in independent filmmaking.

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Machinima’s moment in the sun has long since passed. While legacies such as the recently revitalized Arby n the Chief: Season 8 have popped up on occasion even the developers of Halo themselves have largely moved on from the fad, making Machinima in games like Halo 5: Guardians almost impossible by way of certain game restrictions. Given that little hustle has come up about it’s affect on Machinima it’s safe to say it hasn’t had a large effect.

All that said, as Borealis shows our legacy echoes in eternity. The internet offers a database of potentially infinite possibility and the ability to preserve information for centuries to come. I’ll certainly remember Borealis, Red vs Blue, Arby n the Chief, Sanity Not Included and the numerous other Machinima's that defined this movement. As with legacy, great stories never die.

Thank you all for reading! if you would like to see more essays like this lemme know by tweeting me at @AntiSocialCriti or commenting below. Also be sure to check out my new review show The Fox Valley Film Critics!

Live long and prosper!

#machinima #arby n the chief #Red vs Blue #funhaus #inside gaming #borealis #machinima.com #Halo #Halo 5: Guardians

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biguns60plus · 4 years ago

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The entire world HAS BEEN and is ( MANIPULATED TO BE AND IS ) participating in an satanic black occult corona-initiation ritual, although hardly anyone will OR IS realizing it! WAKE UP see the truth and their evil agenda...Give yourself the gift of reading the following, especially if you call yourself a Christian.

The measures and policies which governments have rolled out worldwide ever since Operation Coronavirus began –

such as quarantine,

lockdown,

hand-washing,

mask-wearing,

social distancing and more –

are in fact aspects of occult initiation ritual.

These aspects have been cleverly adapted to the current fake pandemic and disguised as genuine public health strategies.

As I covered in previous articles, this pandemic is a 9-11 type event which has been meticulously planned for decades.

The people who run the world, whom I often call the New World Order (NWO) conspirators, leave very little to chance.

They are black magicians, and they are running this live exercise in a similar fashion to how they run their secret Satanic rituals.

In both cases, the goal is the same:

to take initiates out of their normal mode of existence,

break them down,

engender submission,

remold them in the likeness of their leaders,

and then finally,

return them to a new normal where they cannot return to their old ways and lives.

Corona-Initiation Ritual: Lockdown and Quarantine (Isolation)

Any good ritual requires preparation.

The first part of an initiation ritual is isolation.

This isolation serves to separate the initiate from the mundane (“of the world”) affairs of his life.

It is often done by cutting all ties with the outside world.

Sometimes, the initiate may be sent into a dark room or cave; this also suggests a coming re-birth from a dark womb.

Nowadays this isolation also requires separation from technology and everything that comes with it (phones, computers, emails, social media, etc.).

The sensory deprivation sends the initiate afloat where she is less tethered to beliefs and behaviors.

In Operation Coronavirus, the lockdown and quarantine were the isolation aspect of the ritual.

Those aware of the situation noticed that quarantining an entire community of healthy people was a contradiction in terms, because the very word quarantine means “a state, period, or place of isolation in which people or animals that have arrived from elsewhere or been exposed to infectious or contagious disease are placed.”

Thus by definition one cannot quarantine uninfected,

healthy people;

one can only quarantine infected, sick people.

However the agenda was to isolate people by any means necessary to achieve the first step of initiation.

Corona-Initiation Ritual: Hand-Washing (Rejection)

Another element of the ritual has been the obsessive and compulsive focus on hand washing.

While hand washing in general is a good hygienic activity which can help limit spread of disease,

Operation Coronavirus has taken it to a completely new level of OCD, obcessive compulsion disorder; anxiety (by design, of course).

Symbolically, the washing of hands is reminiscent of the story of Pontius Pilate from the bible, who washed his hands of the matter regarding the fate of Jesus of Nazareth, and refused to either punish him or set him free.

From this perspective, hand-washing is about rejection.

But who or what is being rejected?

The ‘old normal’ of freedom?

Corona-Initiation Ritual: Mask-Wearing (Censorship, Submission, Dehumanization, Alternate Persona)

Fourthly, masks are often used by the elite themselves at their parties and rituals.

Remember the Satanic sexual orgy scene from Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut?

Masks hide identity.

They hasten the ‘death’ of the old identity.

Masks create an alternate persona.

This ties in with the incredibly important theme of Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) and mind control.

In mind control, a ‘handler’ uses torture and abuse to force the victim to dissociate.

This is where their minds split off and detach from reality in order to deal with the tremendous pain which is being inflicted upon them.

It’s an inbuilt mental defensive strategy.

However, in doing so, the victim creates multiple ‘alters’ or personalities which are disconnected from their base personality.

These alters do not know about the existence of other alters;

thus the victim can be programmed to do things (e.g. become a sex slave or an assassin) and not recall doing them,

because an alter can be triggered to come forward and then return to the subconscious after the event.

When it comes to mind control, masks are symbolic of the hidden aspects or personas of ourselves which the NWO controllers are deliberately targeting with their subliminal propaganda.

Mask-wearing is a huge topic in many ways.

In the article Unmasking the Truth: Studies Show Dehumanizing Masks Weaken You and Don’t Protect You

I covered some of the medical reasons why wearing a mask is not only medically useless if you want to protect yourself from COVID,

but also potentially harmful to your health.

However, there are many layers deeper when it comes to the ritualistic aspects of masks.

Firstly, masks connote censorship,

the covering of one’s mouth,

gagging

and the suppression of a free voice.

Think how many images depicting censorship show a person with tape over their mouth.

Censorship has been a massive part of this agenda, even before it officially happened,

with all the Event 201 aficionados practicing their simulation for hours about how they would control the official narrative and censor alternative viewpoints.

Secondly, masks symbolize submission,

the giving up of unrestricted access to oxygen.

This entire agenda is not about the virus;

it’s about control.

It’s about forcing people to submit to the will of the NWO manipulators,

even when it is legally and medically unwarranted.

Thirdly, masks are reminiscent of robots.

They are dehumanizing.

They remove one’s ability to see fully into another person’s face.

They create distance and separation in people,

make it harder for us to communicate via body language

and make it harder for us to have empathy for others,

since that empathy is often based on truly seeing another person.

Corona-Initiation Ritual: Social Distancing (The New Normal)

Once the ritual heads towards completion, the initiate comes out into a new mode of thinking and a new manner of behaving.

He is remade in the image of his handlers or manipulators who conducted the ritual.

In the case of COVID, the end goal is the new normal where everyone is permanently separated and disconnected (as well as tested, tracked, contact traced, monitored, surveilled, medicated and vaccinated).

Social distancing is really anti-social distancing;

it’s all about removing the human touch from our interactions.

That touch is what makes us human.

The Overarching Goal of the Ritual: Destroying the Old and Creating the New

If I were to sum up the entire corona-initiation ritual with one concept, it would be this old, tried and true one.

Ordo ab chao.

The Hegelian dialectic.

Problem-reaction-solution.

The phoenix rising out of ashes.

All of these phrases point towards the same method:

destroying the old to make way for creating the new.

The true purpose of ritual is to alter one’s mind and character, and it can be done

consciously or unconsciously,

wittingly or unwittingly.

Ritual can be used for white magic just as much as black magic, e.g. you can use this technique to conquer destructive habits within yourself and become a better person.

It’s just that in the context of the worldwide conspiracy, this method is used by the NWO conspirators to make the world a less free, less peaceful, more controlled and more hierarchical place.

Final Thoughts

Operation Coronavirus is a worldwide ritual, and its many elements are highly symbolic.

People are being led along as unwitting participants without a clue as to how they are unconsciously supporting the deeper agenda (e.g. by cooperating with their own enslavement, acquiescing to ridiculous restrictions and even actively policing their fellow citizens).

The fact that this fake coronavirus pandemic is a ritual is not surprising, given that the inner core of the NWO are Satanists who practice black magic.

As surviving whistleblowers attest, some of their Satanic rituals involve rape, hunting humans like animals, mass orgies, drinking human blood, cannibalism and child sacrifice.

We must remain vigilant to the deeper symbolic aspects of this agenda if we are to truly retain our rights and our freedom in the face of this darkness.

By Makia Freeman / Editor and senior researcher

( OUR CHILDREN HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED INTO THE GREATEST BLACK MAGIC SCAM THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN. 90 % OF SOLVING ANY PROBLEM IS UNCOVERING AND UNDERSTANDING IT!

WE AS AMERICANS ( CHRISTIANS) CAN STAND UP AND DEMAND ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, THANKFULLY WE HAVE GUNS. WE CAN DEMAND OUR DIVINE INALIENABLE RIGHTS. TIME TO GO BACK TO WORK, OUR CHILDREN BACK TO SCHOOL, AND THESE BLACK MAGIC CRIMINALS INTO JAIL. PERSONALLY I BELIEVE DONALD TRUMP, PATRIOTS, ARE LEADING THIS FIGHT.

IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS. Copy/ Paste email to every church you belong and/ or know. Maybe their ministers can wake up their congregations to truth.

William Wyttenbach, M.D.

August 1, 2020 Hon. Discharged Major USAF commonlaw copyright my comments above).

Makia Freeman is the editor of alternative media / independent news site The Freedom Articles and senior researcher at ToolsForFreedom.com, writing on many aspects of truth and freedom, from exposing aspects of the worldwide conspiracy to suggesting solutions for how humanity can create a new system of peace and abundance.

(Source: wakingtimes.com; July 16, 2020; https://tinyurl.com/yysnempv)

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 7 years ago

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Shock: “Ashamed to be Korean” gives a report on the Moon scam

September 30, 2012

This has been incredibly hard to do, but I have decided to sacrifice my national pride, personal interest and loyalties to start telling the truth about the complicated religious scams of the Moons and the so-called “Unification Movement”. [Now re-branded as the Family Federation for World Peace and Unification.]

Why? Because I guess I discovered that I still had some conscience left alive somewhere inside of me, so I decide to come out and tell the truth and before it shrivels up totally. Another reason for me to come out is the tragic and shameful truth that the Moon scam is paid for in blood, poverty, misery, sickness and death by a slave class of Japanese who have been, and continue to be, what must be the most hapless class of religious scam victims in history. This is worsened by the fact that the victims have been deliberately and cynically scammed by a group from another country.

I intend to submit a series of posts that share the secrets and insider knowledge that is not supposed to be shared outside of the inner circle, and provide enough information for decent people to make their own minds up.

It has been said that one of the problems with the Moon Church is that every country projects their own image of what they want the “Messiah” to be; The Japanese see an emperor to grovel to and worship, westerners saw Moon as the the second coming of Jesus, while for the Koreans a conquering King that will elevate Koreans above all other nations (you might as well know we think we are superior to the rest of the world physically, spiritually, intellectually, and culturally). Therein the problem starts, Moon’s genius was to able to manipulate facts and myths and lies to divide and conquer and get exactly what he wanted for him and his family and for Korea which has created the core culture and operating practice of the movement: Deception.

Have you wondered why all top posts involving power and money are controlled by Koreans?

Do not be fooled by the fact that we trust the Japanese more than our own and use then nominally to hold assets and the like – that is only because they are totally obedient.

The Japanese have bought the fantasy of Eve Nation, when in reality there never was and still is absolutely no intention to use them for any purpose other than for donations and slave labor. If and when they are no longer needed they will be dropped like a dirty habit in favor of another country (if one was available), this threat has been constantly drummed in to their heads to keep them desperate and obedient.

What they do not realize is that in private Sun Myung Moon, when he was alive, HJH and all the Moon children and we 2nd gens in the inner circle not only have no respect for Japan and instead gloat at the way in which Korea has been taking over Japanese business, laugh at the Japanese members and refer to them in really raw, rude ways. We see it as a rightful revenge for what we think they did to us. On the other hand, we never fail to remind them of the indemnity they need to pay to us.

Given the Japanese unfortunate penchant for masochism, perhaps it is not surprising that they have been fooled, but I am truly amazed that more Westerners have not been able to see through this scam.

Ontological difference. The rules apply differently to the “True Family”. The nightmare myth of the “True” Father and even worse the “True” Family implies that every lie they tell, and whatever crime or wrongdoing they commit in fact is not wrong.

Why?

Firstly, any negative fact about them is a lie, if it is proved beyond doubt that it is inconveniently true, then? “Anyway you cannot judge!” “You have no right to judge!” You did not know there is a providential reason for it? Even better it is “YOUR FAULT!”, your lack of faith caused the True children to do the act.

I have do admit with a sideways grin that only Koreans would have the guts to come up with this kind of bullshit.

Do you know why even Western members have bought this kind of nightmare parallel universe type logic? Because we have trained you to believe that the Moons and the Koreans are ontologically different to you, and therefore different rules and interpretations apply to us.

Once you buy and propagate this scam you have lost your soul and are enslaved to the extent you aid and abet any action that helps the Moons and their businesses.

Japanese translation: 韓国人であることが恥ずかしい

Barbara Underwood, left, 25, and Leslie Brown, right, 24, shown March 31, 1977 in San Francisco, former members of the Rev. Sun Myung Moon's 'faithful five' said all they needed to break away from Moon's Unification Church was a few days free of 'mind control.' (Photo: AP)

Laser on the Moon family scam by Ashamed Korean

The Divine Principle Deception

Indemnity is a Moon Trap

The Frightening Power of Obedience to Authority

The Moons’ Jets and Helicopters

“The entire movement was built on a lie” Annie Choi

Japan gave Korea $800 million in 1965 as reparations for the occupation

Faced with the acutely disturbing reality of the Unification Movement…

#Sun Myung Moon #FFWPU #scam #exploitation #Hak Ja Han #Unification Church #Moonies

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