I think of the movie “Deer Hunter” when I think of this stupid “jab” … I really don’t give a shit if the odds of immediately dying are low … just as I don’t care to play Russian Roulette … but you can … You just can’t make others play that game …
“The vaccine only kills or harms a few people …” If I went around, killing or harming just a few people … would that be ok?
Psychology and lesser magic …
It’s just as likely that the vaccine deaths are a psyop as they are real – could be both … one could say: psychology is lesser magic …
And if you’re a Christian: what’s the substantial difference between global psychological warfare and a global spiritual war?
Extreme camping …
no … extreme camping is where you run naked through the forest, wrestle a bear to the ground, kill it, roast its meat to eat and tan its skin for clothes …. and a bear skin tent. and then make love to woman after eating roasted grizzly bear testicles …
Could the PSYOP end today?
at any point this nonsense could end, and people would NOT give a shit about the “reasons” … if at any point, the sheeple were given permission to live again? – they would … So it’s not the “well, they’re afraid to look stupid” – nah, they know how stupid this looks
this could end TODAY … and a lot of people, especially liberals, would go into “collective manufactured amnesia” mode … “Wait Dan, what was this ‘covid’ you speak of? Really Dan … I can’t recall …” (so, as stated: the reason for maintaining the lie is not concealment)
What is lesbian sex?
when two women … covered in ancient oils … ingrungulate themselves, using their flinktus muscles … and they spin and spin and spin … and play slip and slide with their womanly juices … and in a passionate kiss? – h’rumpulate the chistmus.
Sickness … (and Dancing Nurses)
“Sickness requires no narration.” – Dr. Freckles
Knowing how to live …
“You don’t need any special skills to die … pretty much comes naturally. But knowing how to live? – this is not so obvious.” – Dr. Freckles
Don’t give up …
don’t give up … it’s one day, then one week. I’m not selling happy-shiny bullshit … I am simply saying “don’t give up”. If you can fight, fight – in the proverbial sense. If you can breathe, breathe. If you get so sad and angry you want to punch the world? – I get it.
“If you have to register it, you don’t own it.” – Dr. Freckles (similar to tax quote)
Getting your kid a birth certificate? social security number? Or their “first ID” or “driver’s license”? Pretty much registering your kid … (remember this in the weeks ahead)
“But Dan, how could you do this to your kid? Not let them have a social security number?” I think this would be the greatest thing I could do for my kid … to give them the choice I never had.
The submarine wars of 2067 …
I can’t wait till the hooker wars of the east Nevada desert begin. I will wail on old snake kings, and my women will have my back … dressed scantily, sweaty, carrying chain and rods and bats and love … I will be hooker general, and we shall rule VEGAS. Before the flood. “YOU GONNA GET THAT GOLD!”, yelled Admiral Tarvis, to his team of winky eyed muskrat knights. The flood were coming, the alligators, and the time of fusion powered submarines was upon us … subs captained by busty women, in tight fitting jump suits … “WE WILL BATTLE FOR COKE!”
your “woman warrior” name will be N’onjellis du Frostii … your suit will be black and silver and red … you will carry two short swords and wear high heels. And you will have your own fleet of submarines during the second hooker submarine war of 2037 … and you will have weed
She was hogan-ho clan … she covered her body in vodka musk. She wore nothing but old ratty underwear, some cowboy boots, a wool cap … and a chenille chemise … it was black … it matched her cold dead eyes …
I picked her up at Nate’s Hockey Shoppe, not far from Old Glimbly’s … on the main street in Hogton, UTAH. We were going to go see the “submarine races” … we would drive up to Viggin’s Peak, and drink box wine, and snort bad meth, and cover each other in soiled old lover.
“You smell like curses …”, Melba moaned, as she kissed my ROCKY BALBOA tattoo … I squeezed her cheeks, and planted a big wet one on her pouting lips. After a few minutes of wrestling behind the radio, the windows fogged up, heavy. I could smell her woman juice, it was raw.
“YOU HEAR THAT!”, Melba screamed … she was getting ready to unzip my jeans and pull out my man snake. “Baby, there ain’t nothing …”, and there wasn’t … screw all BIG FOOT … and the creeps of SLC … it was my time to rumble with a woman in a truck. It was my rubber road.
Some odd thing was banging on pans, out in the woods. Lights, funny green lights, started moving all about, THEN BANG, fire shooting towards the sky. Melba opened the truck’s passenger door and ran screaming into the forest, a strange looking owl swooped down and took her away.
Melba was gone … that was done. Melba was being fed to young owls, and this is sad … but you have to move on when you lose a lover. That strange fire was moving closer, and my eyes were red and jaundiced. I drank some whiskey, and tried to drive away from that devil’s walnut.
As I drove away, I could see the red eyes in my rear view window. I say the flames, and the demon, and the red eyes, and the green glowing trolls moving about … burning my truck’s bumper … so close. I could smell rotting flesh and cotton candy and old stale carnival popcorn.
I am still chased, like on that date with poor Melba. I know there are women, all around the world, waiting for the scythe and the shovel … but I can’t find swamp women, and I don’t have money for Dallas women, and I won’t spend any more time dating dark sector 8 monkey women.
“And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God, that they should feed her there a thousand two hundred and threescore days.”
~ Revelations 12:6
The idea of having a new free country has been with us for a long time. In some ways, the founders of the United States had that idea on 19 April 1775 when the guns began to shoot. They had previously formed committees of correspondence and those had begun forming a continental congress, and it was not long before they had a mess. Some of the words came out well, though, such as the preamble to the Declaration of Independence, and its signature clause. Tom Paine did really good work documenting the purpose of the struggle for freedom in a series of essays which became Common Sense and The American Crisis.
In many ways, the struggle was betrayed by the plantation owners at their constitutional convention which created the government you see around you now. Clearly, as Lysander Spooner noted in 1874, the constitution has either authorised all the government we have had, or has been powerless to prevent any of it. Either way, it is unsuited to a free people.
Realising these things, the son of Ernest Hemingway tried to form a new country with what he called The Atlantis Project after WW2. In the late 1960s, soap magnate Werner Stieffel tried to start another Atlantis Project, and that was followed in 1993-94 by Eric Klien’s identically named project. Around 1970, Mike Oliver got funds from Sir John Templeton to build the Republic of Minerva. Spencer MacCallum worked with Werner Stieffel and I worked with Eric on these unsuccessful projects. In the 1995 to 2002 period, I worked with Michael van Notten and Spencer MacCallum on creating a new Hong Kong in Africa, which also failed. Mike Oliver contributed some replies to emails from Eric Klien and got a shared byline in the constitution for Oceania, which I wrote about in my book The Atlantis Papers (1994, After Dark Publications – contact the author if you want this old book).
A good friend of mine contacted me for the first time as a result of his having contributed to Eric’s founding conference and Eric never holding said conference. Courtney Smith asked me to help him with a New Country Foundation and we had our founding conference in November 1995 in New York. Mike Oliver was one of the speakers. So was I.
So, as you can see, I have been looking for a free country for a very long time. In 1991, I was falsely accused and then cleared of charges because I had tried to give away a trip to the Soviet space station Mir and this upset traitors to freedom like George Abbey of the NASA manned spaceflight centre in Houston. Since 2005 or so, it has been clear to me that there is no free country. So one would have to be built. After all, I could not reach the Moon and build my hotel there until I had a free country from which to begin.
God Got Involved
It would be correct to say that God has been involved all along, but I began to perceive God’s presence in my life in 1997 when, while re-reading the bible, I invited Jesus into my heart. I felt a new presence there and ever since. In 2017, I found my spiritual home at the Dayton Friends Meeting, becoming a Quaker. In 2020, I began praying the rosary, and this year I began praying the penitential rosary.
God led me to the property here in Arkansas where we are working and building. God has led many people to get involved in our work. I believe we will succeed, as God is willing.
Our First Lot Users
We have now signed up 3 lot users and we have many visitors coming. You can get updates on our work at FreedomLandDAO.com including our business plans there. We’re very eager to help you find a way to afford a small lot or a large one as you see fit. We’re also working diligently to improve the property. Here are a few photos including our very first lot user and some of our recent improvements.
Lot User #1, Robin Horn under our very nice waterfall …
The Raven Mobile with culvert pipe from a nearby plumbing supply house where no one wears masques.
A wet spot in our road which is now drier thanks to a ditch and culvert installed.
We could use some help. In addition to clearing out the deadfall from the road bulldozed in 2020 during an earlier phase of this project before Houston Space Society got involved, we also need help improving the road. This includes installing more culvert in a few places, adding ditches to keep the water off the road itself, and we plan to buy a few loads of crushed rock from a nearby quarry. If you have a truck or trailer suited to transporting crushed rock and plan to be in Arkansas, please let me know. We can sell the firewood from the downed trees, too.
Also on our list: NEAR has a grant application that I hope to complete on time to have funds for a version of the Zero Agression Principle found in our lot user agreement put on the NEAR platform’s blockchain. Another supporter has agreed to fund putting the contract on EOS and a new token being developed from EOS. I need help getting these smart contracts developed, and we can pay in related token funds.
We have some social media presence on Twitter and Telegram and could use more help in these areas.
We’re planning a bed and breakfast, campground, and RV parking for the front of the property near the county road. That area has good access to electric power and phone lines. We’re also planning an observatory to be funded by Houston Space Society, probably at the top of the bluff in the northeast part of the property.
Would you like to help us get satellite phones and satellite internet? Or other tools and facilities for the new community we’re building? Please get in touch.
Would you like to live in a free country? We need help building a network of voluntaryists & agorists living in absolute non-aggression today (VALIANT) all over the world. We have connexions in several states and in many countries. Where would you like to be valiant? We want to help!
VALIANT Ozarkia Rockhouse welcomes you! You’d be very welcome to come visit, or stay and build.
Free the slaves. Stop the wars. End the state. You’ll be glad you did.
I was born in the time of the raisin kings, when raven knights filled the sky, and harlotry was on the menu, and old folks were taken to the swamps to die …
I came from the weird places, dark faces, knives and forks, and all the heaven glory, and all was bloody and wet.
I met a shaman named Ned, and he lived in the caves near Mt. H’arnoff, not far from Gringle, Colorado. His eyes were fiery red, his hair old and worn and grey … his skin was hard like old saddle leather … his mind was parasites and mead.
“YOU CAN’T HAVE THE SACREDS, YOU CAN’T HAVE THE MEADOW WAY!”
He screamed … he punched me in the stomach, and ran off into the desert … so I chased him.
“YOU CAN’T BREATHE FIRE, YOU CAN’T EAT SAND!”
He yelled …
Pus began pouring from his ears …
Blood from his anus …
And he left me, as he faded away, with a riddle and a map.
“GO TO DIXIE! SEE THE WHALE!”
An unkind grouping of ravens followed me through the caverns near U’unk … we crawled on all fours looking for gold nuggets and cocaine and old hooker spice. We made a tent out of deer skin and frog liver and we burnt the crystal fires, and drank swill from the old keg.
After 10 years hiking up the mountain …
After 11 winters of pain …
After rock slides and avalanche, and the old cast berries out of bloom but just tart enough to give me a heart attack?
After I gave flowers to the witches and the old maid set my dogs on fire?
The wise old shaman appeared …
At the peak …
Before the end of all world and the sky bridge of tomorrow …
And his eyes still glowed …
And he told me of the coming cataclysm.
“There will be stone glowing red. There will be gases that birds can’t breathe, they will fall dead. Old sheep will fall over and explode, and there will be NO ABODE for the elk or cougar. The sky villains, covered in crimson web, will swoop down and steal our hope. Old sailing ships will move across the desert, and the ASIAN MAGIC will spread – and there will be MSG for every bowl of chili. Soon … after the moon turns red, and the old hound howls at the sky …”