Toxic femininity
Just pointing this out, read it as you will… The four shops in a row in the photo are BIg Bear Food Mart, First Choice Haircutters, King Cleaners, and Saving Thyme.
(This post is not exactly aiimed at a general audience; it’s directed at particular people, but I tried to keep it general where I could.)
(Given that there’s no evidence being presented here that isn’t circumstantial, this post and the others like this are an exercise in hypothesizing for entertainment purposes only, whether or not the accounts presented correspond to real, not-fictional events.)
This is where I have to share that I’ve been fighting with insanity for the past several years. For me to explain what’s been going on in a way that someone else can read and make sense of given their experience, it’s going to take lots and lots of writing. If you are someone scrutinizing this, please understand that I have not had a chance to explain myself. It will take time.
I’ve been hospitalized five times in the past eight years with schizophrenia symptoms. It took years to get a proper diagnosis because of a particularly lazy psychiatrist in Burlington. The “schism” part is that I’ve been awakened to my Higher Self, which is, emotionally, a nightmarish experience.
I’m just going to write what I write here, post it, and move on with my day, because it’s going to take me a while to sort out the next bit of what I have to explain, given how things have been happening lately, which wasn’t my choice.
My story will take a long, long time to tell, and I’m thinking that I’m going to have to scrap it out here. I’ve been waiting for the time and opportunity to be able to sit down and tell my story in the way I know it needs to be told, but because of the nature of my channeling at the moment, I can’t do that—yet. I don’t kinow how much longer my channeling function will work the way it does, though I’ve been given reason to believe that I won’t be stuck like this permanently.
On June 28, 2020, my brother-in-law Tom Bink, son of Werner Bink, died of a heart attack, aged 50. There was a visitation on July 1. Shortly after that, in the middle of the night, I felt the Source put Tom Bink inside my body, and I experienced his inner being, his self, inside my body talking to me. I didn’t sleep that night.
He’s been in here ever since, and, in religious terms, this is my “forty days in the desert” period, and he’s “Doubting Thomas”. He’s there to doubt me. He fights me on things, he takes over my body and talks to me, through my own voice. Last night he pounded me on the head a bunch of times. His version of “doubting” me is very flexible because his personality is such that he can doubt anything he doesn’t already know—which is practically anything beyond prime-time TV and North American sports.
This is channeling, like J.Z. Knight on The Merv Griffin Show. (And here’s an example of what it’s like for me, channeling—every time I think of the J.Z. Knight clip, I get a departed soul, a guy remembering off the top of his head, “Phil Donahue, it was Phil Donahue.” And every time, I say, “Wrong, we already looked this up, it was Merv Griffin.”) I’ve channeled that Ramtha is a past life of hers—she is channeling her Higher Self. Edgar Cayce and Jane Roberts were doing the same thing.
In the case of my channeling, there’s a whole historical development over the past eight years that will take a book-length explanation to describe, but at the current moment, I’ve had the soul of another person implanted in me—he breathes my lungs, I feel his feelings, and I hear both him thinking about him “think-saying” things to me.
And the guy is a developmentally-impaired racist from Alberta, emotionally and intellectually stuck at about eight years old.
Here’s video I shot of myself on my cellphone last night around 8 PM. As I type this, I can feel Tom Bink’s soul sitting inside me, I can see his face and feel his personage, his soul inside my body, his face looking out through my eyes. I barely get to choose my own words, and it’s a struggle to even put into words the complex set of feelings and ideas that need to be explicated to counter someone who’s fighting with you, and physically, you need to fight back. That’s what’s going on when you see someone on the street talking to himself or herself.
This is the kind of child-like person Tom is/was. This morning, inside me, he complained because I insisted on eating my cereal without dribbling milk down my chin, as he does if I’m not forcing control over the spoon. He called me “Robot”, for wanting to eat in such overly-mannered way.
This is what had transpired. I had been told by the Source to look “more Presidential”, like the President of the United States looks, and she’d been harping on this. She was thinking in terms of the life I lived three lives ago (you include the current one), where I died at age 19 in 1967. So she was thinking that the “coming again in glory” would mean that I look like the “big man” at the time. In her milieu, in L.A., in 1967, because of the circle of friends she was involved with, that man, the authoritative leader, was Richard Nixon, and—not Robert F.Kennedy, even. Nixon looked more authoritative.
So she reasoned that she didn’t want to look like the “old school” mystics—she wanted to look modern. So she wanted a modern, clean, smart haircut.
What didn’t occur to her was that because I’m going to live an Old-Testatment-Biblical length life, and as such, I don’t really age, I don’t look like an old, authoritative man if I have short hair and I’m clean-shaven. My face is quite smooth, without lines. I look young for my age. I’m also 35 pounds overweight because I’ve been overcoming sexual trauma from that past life where I died, as well as this current life. You can’t really look “Presidential” without the authority that comes from looking like an older person.
Me with short hair and a short beard—that was my look before I decided to let my hair grow in as a commitment to being a mystic in the world; I had been asked by the Divine Feminine to let my hair grow out when I started channeling her in 2016, and it’s for the same spiritual basis as Hasedic Jews, Muslims, Sikhs, and early Christians like the Frankish kings.
Late in 2016, I had more-or-less messed up my connection to Source (long story there), so I ended up cutting my hair because I was persuaded to by a group of ladies at a spiritual retreat in northern Georgia. I didn’t come back into a clear connection with my Higher Self, the Souce, until December of 2019. My decision, in October of 2020, came prior to that first set of channeling videos that I recorded; they’re on my YouTube channel now.
Personally, I had decided that I wanted to grow my hair very long like a Shaolin monk. I had also said, “anyone who suggests cutting my hair should feel how nice and soft it is.” I liked having long hair, and was fine with it. I had had long hair when I was young; I cut it short when I was 23, and I shaved my fu manchu when I was 27. After my marriage ended, I decided I wasn’t going to bother going clean-shaven again because my stubble has the texture of very coarse sandpaper, and if I shave every day, I spend half the day with a mouth that gives my girlfriend/wife “road rash”, as I’ve heard it called.
At this point, I’m not planning on cutting my hair again; I think I can pull off long hair and a beard. (I see things in those terms, instead of seeing it as “this look is good and this look is bad”.) When my hair got to a certain length last time, I joked that I looked like a cross between Jerry Garcia and David Suzuki. Now, my look is basically “Kim Didulo Un”.
When I was photographed in the Spectator for throwing a complete–game victory against a very strong Windsor team in the first round of the O.B.A. playoffs in 1996, I was depicted following through on a pitch, sporting reflective sunglasses, sideburns to my jaw, a fu manchu and Zappa-like chin thing, dreadlocks out the back of my cap, and low-rider stirrup socks (nice ones, from Nabozney’s in Port Huron). That was me in high school; I also did music theatre pit band (part of three of a record eight consecutive Ontario Showcase appearances for Burlington Central High School).
These are the lyrics to “Almost Cut My Hair” by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.
Almost cut my hair
“Almost Cut My Hair”, David Crosby, from Crosby, Stils, Nash & Young, Deja Vu, 1970
Happened just the other day
It was gettin’ kinda long
I coulda said it wasn’t my way
But I didn’t and I wonder why
I feel like letting my freak flag fly
Yes, I feel like I owe it to someone
Must be because I had the flu for Christmas
And I’m not feeling up to par
It increases my paranoia
Like looking at my mirror and seeing a police car
But I’m not giving in an inch to fear
‘Cause I promised myself this year
I feel like I owe it to someone
When I finally get myself together
I’m going to get down in that sunny southern weather
And I’ll find a place inside to laugh
Separate the wheat from the chaff
I feel like I owe it
To someone, yeah
I don’t know when I’m going to be a person who doesn’t have an imposed affliction such that I have to fight off other spirits from inhabiting my body and taking me over, at the behest of the Source, There’s a crazy, bizarre thing going on inside me that I’ve been dealing with since July, 2020, and I’m going to need to explain myself.
The actual, full, goings-on of my experiences are, by normal standards, strange, weird, inexplicable, and they don’t make sense to people because what my stories do not correspond with things they know.
I took a class in university called Argumentation Theory. One of the principles was that for something to be believed by an interlocutor, it must be rational for them to believe, given what they already understand about the world. He called that one’s “epistemic state”—what they think counts as real knowledge.
I know this, from what I’ve experienced—it would take multiple, book-length pieces of writing for me to explain myself the way I know I need to.
I’ve been mentally ill for the past eight years because the Source showed up to me shortly after midnight in the early morning hours of January 11, 2016. The Source, the Creator of All-That-Is, the Divine Feminine, appeared at the top of the stairwell in the middle of my house/my parents’ house, and then entered into me.
The feminine in action (sorry, but it has to be this way)
The Source didn’t understand that I look more authoritative and attractive with long hair and a beard, and didn’t consider that other people had an idea of my appearance that was positive—she kept telling me that it was a bad look. I knew that, because I knew and I concern myself with how things look to other people.
The Source doesn’t do that. The Source has told me, after one such instance of screwing up how things look to other people: “I is insensible. I doesn’t care.”
This is the kind of thing that is going on when someone, like me, says: “The voices in my head make me cut all my hair off.” Literally what happened to me.
I can’t cry anymore while you run around
Here’s the second verse of “Black Cow” by Steely Dan, one of my favourite songs/recordings:
Down to Green Street
“Black Cow”, Water Becker and Donald Fagen, from Steely Dan, Aja, 1977
There you go
Looking so outrageous
And they tell you so
You should know
How all the pros play the game
You change your name
Like a gangster on the run
You will stagger home to your precious one
I’m the one who must make everything right
Talk it out ’til daylight
This was channeled to me just now, confirming to me that this was the purpose of this incident: This is a demonstration of the Spirit of Femininity.
The Spirit of Femininity is willing to kill people, destroy things, and burn down buildings. She is “yin”, the force that dismantles.
Yang is the accelerator, yin is the brake. Killing people and burning property—those are her “brakes”, on the secret satanist Freemason world.
The Spirit of Femininity also doesn’t really know how things work out there in the world, and doesn’t think in those terms. What I get are approximations and comparisons of similar things.
In the second chorus of Black Cow, the narrator puts his foot down.
I don’t care anymore while you run around
“Black Cow”, verse 2
Break away
Just when it seems so clear
That it’s over now
Drink your big black cow
And get out of here
There’s a reason that women tend to do the “hearth and home” thing, and men do the “go out in the world and fend for the family” thing. Men think differently. They tend to be more object-oriented, they rely more on logic, and they are capable of doing systems thinking.
This exercise is a demonstration that femininity without masculine reason is a destructive force. It is a car with a brake and no accelerator. It is a force that counters what it doesn’t like, but we can’t counter everything and dislike everything. (The survival of developed societies depends on not countering necessary values.)
- You are a wrong-headed person if you say that what matters isn’t what a person says or does, but how that person looks.
- Looks are about sexual attractiveness, and not at all about the content of speech. You are wrong to not take someone’s ideas and expression seriously because you don’t like what they look like.
- I can’t believe I actually, really, had to write that, in this day and age. Here, inside me, where I’m interacting with spirits as they write this, there are spirits, feminine spirits, who hate that I’m saying that.
Women and men are dfferent, and we know and live that
I’ve channeled that women have been I-beings since 1781. That means their G-Center “has” the Divine Feminine’s intelligence built into them as part of their emotional makeup. (G-Center is a Human Design term.) “Women’s intuition” is this—it’s a real, physical thing built into a women, and it lets them know, built into them, how the Source feels about something they encounter.
Men, on the other hand, were not born like this. They are born simply blank slates, only as good as the role models and instruction around him… However, there’s a mutation happening.
There’s a difference, though. Per the Human Design revelation that came through in 1987, taught eventually by Robert Alan Krakower, who used the name Ra Uru Hu, there’s a mutation in the species underway, a new species of human called “the Rave”, and autism, Asperger’s, ADHD, and Indigo children, are part of this mutation in progress. The Rave will have a blended masculine and feminine inner being; Rave girls will have the impulse to make money for themselves.
It’s a future where men and women both work and share bread-winning/income-provision as needed. Men are “powered” by the Divine Masculine being, which enables them to do systems thinking where women can’t.
As such, it’s simply a waste of time to seek any kind of goal involving “equalization” between men and women. They will never do the same kinds of work in comparable amounts in the aggregate, especially there are women who want to not work while they have and raise children.
Some might also consider the “income gap” between men and women as the “good husband gap.” Those men making lots of money may very well be some women’s successful husbands. Warren Farrell wrote a book on the subject, Why Men Earn More
That’s all I will say about the subject of “gender reality” for now. It’s “gender reality” because there are streams of academic thought in the.postmodern critical disciplines in the humanities and social sciences.
Women hate hearing that feminism is a wrong-headed idea
Yes, I know that it’s not popular with feminists and their allies to criticize their belief system, but it’s a necessary thing to do: It is necessary to apply yin to the discipline of feminism in order to correct it. That’s one of the ways things turn out better: you get rid of the things that are making things go wrong.
I know it’s not going to be a matter of simply stating a few arguments. If you haven’t done so already, I recommend watching Cassie Jaye’s documentary, The Red Pill. Cassie Jaye was a feminist fillmmaker who wanted to expose the so-called “Men’s Rights” movement, and ended up evolving her perspective such that she ends the film by declaring: “I no longer call myself a feminist.” Here it is, on YouTube, in its entirety:
Honestly, I don’t believe in arguing with those on the political left. IMyself, I have work I intend to do down the road to critically analyze the history of the Maxist disciplines and the philosophy of the last two centuries. I’m familiar with the academy; I have a degree that’s half-Cultural Studies and half-Linguistics from 2001 to 2005; that’s when the Judith Butler-Bell Hooks-influenced academics were starting to teach third- and fourth-year courses, at least where I went to school.
Academia, especially the humanities, has an evolutionary nature to it in that there are generational cohorts of academics who train on different ideas depending on what was in vogue when they were in grad school. You started getting the work of “postmodern” French scholars like Paul de Man and Jacques Lacan in the 1970s. Michel Foucault published works through the early eighties, and his “Foucauldian” structuralism was considered the vanguard of humanities thought throughout the 1990s. The ideas that get referred to as “woke” or “identity politics” evolved out of the work of Judith Butler and bell hooks that same decade. I was exposed to them when I did my undergrad.
Academic feminism is a Marxist discipline, generally, and involves a postmodern critical body of work that gets taught as the “best” way to think about “gender” and gender politics in the academy. Feminism and Marxism were both works of the Illuminati that were a matter of a “divide-and-conquer” strategy for manipulating what people consider as “enlightened philosophy”.
