2015 seems to have been the most popular year for The Urban Mystic, accounting for 1/5 of all the lifetime visitors. As usual, here are the top ten stories of the year in order.
1. Integral Christ
In 2015 Easter took place on the same day as the first Easter in 33 AD. The last time this happened was 1942, and it won't happen again until 2026, so I took the time to create a very big, detailed piece about what an integral version of Christianity would look like, complete with miracles, the crucifixion, and resurrection. I explain why all three are necessary in any version of Christianity, first, second, or third tier, and why it is intellectually dishonest to claim otherwise.
2. The Myth of Cultural Relativity
All cultures are not equal. Most cultures accomplished little, or nothing, while others changed the world in spectacular ways.
3. The Dovekeepers
In April a made for TV movie about the massacre at Masada during the Jewish Revolt was produced by the same people who made the hit series The Bible. And they made the Romans look like the good guys. The movie is about two women who survive and tell Josephus what happened, and they are the biggest whores on the planet. The only thing they do is seduce married men and have sex with them, then those married men get killed and they seduce even more married men. They never once think to find a man who is single. They are adulterous whores who are glorified in this two part Harlequin softcore porn film.
4. Is Peace on Earth Possible?
Kriyananda explains why the yuga cycle gives him hope that peace on Earth is possible in the future.
5. Why "Taxing the Rich" Doesn't Work
Everyone wants to tax "the rich", but the definition of just who is "the rich" is totally dependent on whom you are asking. No one, no matter how much money they make, will admit to being rich. Similarly, just what is the "fair share" that "the rich" must pay? No one has a percentage or dollar amount, it's always just "more than they are paying now". I outline eight reasons why the rich pay no taxes, and why raising tax rates only ever hurt the poor and middle class.
6. Overpopulation is Officially Bullshit
The New York Times admits that there is no overpopulation problem! The real problems are below replacement birth rates and improper distribution of resources.
7. Meditation Problems and Benefits
Bullshit psychiatrists say meditation is evil and you should take a pill so that they can stay in business. I then explain how meditation works, the real reason you should meditate, the real reason people encounter problems with meditation, and how to overcome those problems.
8. The Pyramid Deception
There is a lie that is oft perpetuated by archaeologists who are members of the scientistic magisterium. It is claimed that prior to the invention of modern building techniques and materials the ONLY way to build tall structures was to build a pyramid, and that's why pyramids were built by many ancient civilisations. This is a lie on its face.
It was entirely possible to build tall towers with straight walls and I provide many examples in this masterpiece.
You can't explain away why ancient people all over the world built pyramids. Why did people all over the world build pyramids? We do not know. I am not here to propose an alternate hypothesis, merely to disprove the predominant hypothesis that pyramids exist all over the world because people were too stupid to build straight sided towers.
9. China Sends Aircraft Carrier to Syria
The balance of global power has shifted.
This September China, in alliance with Russia and Syria, sent a stiff rebuke to the US and the US created proxy ISIS. The US created ISIS, along with staging a coup in Ukraine, to destroy Russia by proxy. Well, Russia is not backing down, and neither is China.
10. Uri Geller's Tricks?
The subject that made The Urban Mystic famous! The question over whether Uri Geller uses trickery to bend spoons is left to the reader's interpretation, but a new video surfaced, starring our old friend Bob Couttie, that may show Geller fooling around. The video is of poor quality and I have not drawn any conclusions from it.
This year has been so big that a lot of really good stuff didn't make it into the top ten.
Richard Rose: Zen and Death
Richard Rose talks on everything. He talks about the four categories of mystical experiences, how society conditions us to believe lies regarding who we are and what death is, the near death experience, and the importance of finding the Truth and who we really are. We exist before we are born and continue to exist after we die. The purpose of life is finding this Truth out for ourselves through direct experience. Runs 1 hour 10 minutes.
The Worse Devils of Our Nature
Despite what Steven Pinker says, the 20th century was unquestionably the most violent in history, with more people killed than were even alive for most of human history (800 million people were killed in the 20th century, human population was usually around 400 - 500 million until around 1800), and with so many dead in 2015 and wars raging across the world, things don't look to be getting better any time soon.
A Tale of Two Rebirths
There are two models for how rebirth works. In the old model, adopted in some form by pretty much every major religion in the world, souls begin in ignorance and must grow through a series of lifetimes until they reach perfection. In the "new age" version, souls begin totally omniscient and incarnate on Earth for the lulz, to experience things that spirits can't experience, like cancer, war, famine, rape, and murder. Why a soul would want to experience these things is never explained. Human psychology seems to refute the notion, but some (far from all) channeled material suggests that enlightened soul psychology is totally different from human psychology. Of course, NDEs and most mediumistic communication indicates that the deceased pretty much think just like they did when they were alive, instead of being instantly enlightened. If I had to bet I would say that the very low level trickster spirits are the ones coming through saying we're all omniscient and we come to Earth to suffer, as it goes against all the evidence from enlightened sages on Earth, human psychology, reason, common sense, reports from NDEs and reports from other spirits.
Suffering and The Meaning of Life
God did not create the world to experience things, like suffering or separation, like some cosmic version of the TV series Jackass. God created a perfect world as an outpouring of love. We created this illusory flawed world of suffering out of pride, to prove we were more powerful than God, and we hide here until we overcome our pride and return to God.
Islam: The Untold Story
Tom Holland suggests that the true origins of Islam and Muhammad came not from Arabia, but from the Negev, and it was not until much later that the Mecca story was invented to further distance Islam from Christianity and Judaism. This could explain why the early sites are being destroyed, not because of the danger of idolatry, but because those sites were fakes, built centuries later, and the Wahhabis in the Saudi government don't want anyone - especially devout Muslims - from discovering that the buildings and cemeteries date from well after the life of Muhammad and his companions. It could also explain why the Quran makes more sense when read in Syriac (the language used in the Negev and Sinai at the time) than when read in Arabic.
Later on fragments of the Quran were discovered that were dated to a time before Muhammad was born.
This is more evidence in support of the hypothesis that the text of the Quran comes from Syriac Christian sources in the Negev that were altered by Muhammad or someone else to justify the Arab conquest of the region. This is why the sites associated with early Islam are being destroyed by the Saudi government and others, not to prevent people from worshiping at Muhammad's birthplace, but to hide the fact that the religion of Islam was created after the political movement had established itself, to to distance it from its Christian and Jewish roots.
Biblical Archaeology
The central dogma of biblical archaeology is based on a faulty chronology. Some scholars invented a chronology when events of the Bible should have taken place, and when they find the evidence of events that were described in the Bible they find those events happened a few centuries earlier than when the chronology says they should have. Instead of doing what any rational being would do, which is to revise the chronology, the biblical archaeologists become even more entrenched in the chronology. They proclaim the Bible to be myth and the artefacts that were discovered to belong to a new, previously unknown period in history. This is the exact opposite of how science works. If the data do not fit the hypothesis it is the hypothesis that must be revised to fit the data. Instead, biblical archaeologists revise the data to fit the hypothesis.
Friday, December 25, 2015
Thursday, December 24, 2015
A Letter from Michael
A letter from a young Marine named Michael who was wounded during the Korean War. Runs 10 minutes. Transcript below.
Merry Christmas everybody! My name is Lee Allan, and the story you are
about to hear has become a Christmas tradition. It's been broadcast for
over 25 years on radio stations all over America. The story was given
to me by Ed Harding, news director of a radio station much like this
one. It was a copy of a letter, written by a young Marine named
Michael, who was hospitalised after being wounded on a Korean
battlefield. The letter was written home to his mother, but it was
first seen and read by a Navy Chaplin. In the letter, Michael describes
what happened to him on that lonely, frozen battlefield. When the
Chaplin first saw the letter, he talked with the boy's mother, the
sergeant in charge of the boy's patrol, and the patrolled members
themselves. Privately, they will all still tell you that what you are
about to hear is a true story. Recently read the letter at Christmas
time and let it stand on its own merit. The sergeant, the patrol
members, and Michael are real people. The story is a letter, a copy of
the original. A letter from Michael.
Dear Mom,
I wouldn't dare write this letter to anyone but you because no one else
will believe it. Maybe even you will find it hard. But I've got to
tell somebody. First off, I'm in a hospital. Now don't worry. You
hear me? Don't…don't worry. I…I was wounded, but I'm okay. You
understand? Okay. The doctor says I'll be up and around in a month,
but that isn't what I want to tell you. Remember when I joined the
Marines last year? Remember when I left, how you told me to say a
prayer to St. Michael everyday? You really didn't have to tell me that.
Ever since I can remember, you always told me to pray to St. Michael
the Arc Angel. You even named me after him. Well I always have. When I
got to Korea, I prayed even harder. Remember the prayer you taught me?
"Michael, Michael of the morning. Fresh court of heaven adorning."
You know the rest of it. Well I said it everyday. Sometimes when I was
marching. Sometimes, resting. But always before I went to sleep. I
even got some of the other fellas to say it. Well, one day I was with
an advance detail, way up forward, in the front lines. I was plotting
along, in the bitter cold. My breath was like cigar smoke. I thought I
knew every guy on the patrol, but along side of me comes another Marine
I had never met before. He was bigger than any Marine I had ever seen.
He must have been six foot four, and built in proportion. It gave me a
feeling of security to have such a buddy near. Anyway, there we were,
trudging along, rest of the patrol spread out. Just to start a
conversation I said, "Cold! Ain't it?" And then I laughed. Here I was,
with a good chance of getting killed any minute, and I'm talking about
the weather. My companion seemed to understand. I heard him laugh
softly. I looked at him. "I've never seen you before. I thought I
knew every man in the outfit." "I just joined at the last minute," he
replied. "The name is Michael." "Is that so?" I said. "That's my
name, too." "I know," he said. "And then we're on, "Michael, Michael
of the morning." I was too amazed to say anything for a minute. How
did he know my name? And the prayer that you had taught me. Then I
smiled to myself. "Heh". Every guy in the outfit knew about me. Hadn't
I taught the prayer to anyone who'd listen? Why now and then, they
even referred to me as St. Michael. Neither of us spoke for a time, and
then he broke the silence. "We're gonna have some trouble up ahead.
He must have been in some fine physical shape, for he was breathing so
lightly, I couldn't see his breath. Mine poured out in grape clouds.
There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself.
Well, with the enemy all around us, that's no great revelation. Snow
began to fall, in great thick globs. In a brief moment, the whole
countryside was blotted out and I was marching in a white fog of wet,
sticky particles. My companion disappeared. "Michael!" I shouted in
sudden alarm. I felt his hand on my arm. His voice was rich and
strong. "This will stop shortly." His prophecy proved to be correct.
In a few moments the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun
was a hard shining disc. I looked back for the rest of the patrol.
There was no one in sight. We lost them in that heavy fall of snow. I
looked ahead as we came over a little rise. Mom, my heart stopped.
There were seven of them and their padded pants and jackets and funny
little hats, only there wasn't anything funny about them now. Seven
rifles were aimed at us. "Down Michael!" I screamed and hit the frozen
earth. I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets.
But there was Michael. Still standing. Mom, those guys couldn’t have
missed. Not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to
bits. But there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was
paralysed with fear. It happens sometimes, mom, even to the very
bravest. He was…he was like a bird, fascinated by a snick. At least,
that's what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down, and felt a
sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit.
Now I know. I remember feeling strong arms above me. Arms that laid
me, ever so gently, on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes for one last
look. I was dying. Maybe I was even dead. I remember thinking well,
this isn't so bad. Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in
shock. But it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again, only this
time, his face was shining with terrible splendour. As I say, maybe it
was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him; he
grew, bigger. His arms stretched out wide. Maybe it was the snow
falling again, but there was a brightness around him; like the wings of
an angel. In his hand was a sword. A sword that flashed with a million
lights. And that’s the last thing I remember until the rest of the
fellas came up and found me. I don't know how much time had passed, but
now and then, I had a moment's respite from the pain. I remember
telling them that the enemy was just ahead. "Where's Michael?" I asked.
I saw them look at one another. "Where's who?" asked one. "Michael".
"Michael, that big Marine that I was walking with just before that big
snow squall hit us". "Kid," said the sergeant. "You weren't walking
with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too
far out. I was just gonna call you in when you disappeared in the
snow." He looked at me, curiously. "How'd you do it kid?" "How'd I do
what?" I asked, half angry, despite my wound. "This big Marine named
Michael and I were just…" "Son," said the sergeant kindly. "I picked
this outfit out myself, and there just ain't another Michael in it.
You’re the only Mike in it." He paused for a moment. "Just how'd you
do it, kid? We heard shots. There hasn't been a shot fired from your
rifle. And there isn't a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill
there. I didn't say anything. What could I say? I could only look,
open-mouthed, with amazement. It was then the sergeant spoke again.
"Kid," he said gently. "Every one of those seven bodies over the hill
there was killed, by a sword stroke." That's all I could tell you mom.
As I say, it may have been the sun in my eyes. It may have been the
cold, or the pain. But that’s what happened.
Love,
Michael
Merry Christmas everybody! My name is Lee Allan, and the story you are
about to hear has become a Christmas tradition. It's been broadcast for
over 25 years on radio stations all over America. The story was given
to me by Ed Harding, news director of a radio station much like this
one. It was a copy of a letter, written by a young Marine named
Michael, who was hospitalised after being wounded on a Korean
battlefield. The letter was written home to his mother, but it was
first seen and read by a Navy Chaplin. In the letter, Michael describes
what happened to him on that lonely, frozen battlefield. When the
Chaplin first saw the letter, he talked with the boy's mother, the
sergeant in charge of the boy's patrol, and the patrolled members
themselves. Privately, they will all still tell you that what you are
about to hear is a true story. Recently read the letter at Christmas
time and let it stand on its own merit. The sergeant, the patrol
members, and Michael are real people. The story is a letter, a copy of
the original. A letter from Michael.
Dear Mom,
I wouldn't dare write this letter to anyone but you because no one else
will believe it. Maybe even you will find it hard. But I've got to
tell somebody. First off, I'm in a hospital. Now don't worry. You
hear me? Don't…don't worry. I…I was wounded, but I'm okay. You
understand? Okay. The doctor says I'll be up and around in a month,
but that isn't what I want to tell you. Remember when I joined the
Marines last year? Remember when I left, how you told me to say a
prayer to St. Michael everyday? You really didn't have to tell me that.
Ever since I can remember, you always told me to pray to St. Michael
the Arc Angel. You even named me after him. Well I always have. When I
got to Korea, I prayed even harder. Remember the prayer you taught me?
"Michael, Michael of the morning. Fresh court of heaven adorning."
You know the rest of it. Well I said it everyday. Sometimes when I was
marching. Sometimes, resting. But always before I went to sleep. I
even got some of the other fellas to say it. Well, one day I was with
an advance detail, way up forward, in the front lines. I was plotting
along, in the bitter cold. My breath was like cigar smoke. I thought I
knew every guy on the patrol, but along side of me comes another Marine
I had never met before. He was bigger than any Marine I had ever seen.
He must have been six foot four, and built in proportion. It gave me a
feeling of security to have such a buddy near. Anyway, there we were,
trudging along, rest of the patrol spread out. Just to start a
conversation I said, "Cold! Ain't it?" And then I laughed. Here I was,
with a good chance of getting killed any minute, and I'm talking about
the weather. My companion seemed to understand. I heard him laugh
softly. I looked at him. "I've never seen you before. I thought I
knew every man in the outfit." "I just joined at the last minute," he
replied. "The name is Michael." "Is that so?" I said. "That's my
name, too." "I know," he said. "And then we're on, "Michael, Michael
of the morning." I was too amazed to say anything for a minute. How
did he know my name? And the prayer that you had taught me. Then I
smiled to myself. "Heh". Every guy in the outfit knew about me. Hadn't
I taught the prayer to anyone who'd listen? Why now and then, they
even referred to me as St. Michael. Neither of us spoke for a time, and
then he broke the silence. "We're gonna have some trouble up ahead.
He must have been in some fine physical shape, for he was breathing so
lightly, I couldn't see his breath. Mine poured out in grape clouds.
There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself.
Well, with the enemy all around us, that's no great revelation. Snow
began to fall, in great thick globs. In a brief moment, the whole
countryside was blotted out and I was marching in a white fog of wet,
sticky particles. My companion disappeared. "Michael!" I shouted in
sudden alarm. I felt his hand on my arm. His voice was rich and
strong. "This will stop shortly." His prophecy proved to be correct.
In a few moments the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun
was a hard shining disc. I looked back for the rest of the patrol.
There was no one in sight. We lost them in that heavy fall of snow. I
looked ahead as we came over a little rise. Mom, my heart stopped.
There were seven of them and their padded pants and jackets and funny
little hats, only there wasn't anything funny about them now. Seven
rifles were aimed at us. "Down Michael!" I screamed and hit the frozen
earth. I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets.
But there was Michael. Still standing. Mom, those guys couldn’t have
missed. Not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to
bits. But there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was
paralysed with fear. It happens sometimes, mom, even to the very
bravest. He was…he was like a bird, fascinated by a snick. At least,
that's what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down, and felt a
sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit.
Now I know. I remember feeling strong arms above me. Arms that laid
me, ever so gently, on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes for one last
look. I was dying. Maybe I was even dead. I remember thinking well,
this isn't so bad. Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in
shock. But it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again, only this
time, his face was shining with terrible splendour. As I say, maybe it
was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him; he
grew, bigger. His arms stretched out wide. Maybe it was the snow
falling again, but there was a brightness around him; like the wings of
an angel. In his hand was a sword. A sword that flashed with a million
lights. And that’s the last thing I remember until the rest of the
fellas came up and found me. I don't know how much time had passed, but
now and then, I had a moment's respite from the pain. I remember
telling them that the enemy was just ahead. "Where's Michael?" I asked.
I saw them look at one another. "Where's who?" asked one. "Michael".
"Michael, that big Marine that I was walking with just before that big
snow squall hit us". "Kid," said the sergeant. "You weren't walking
with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too
far out. I was just gonna call you in when you disappeared in the
snow." He looked at me, curiously. "How'd you do it kid?" "How'd I do
what?" I asked, half angry, despite my wound. "This big Marine named
Michael and I were just…" "Son," said the sergeant kindly. "I picked
this outfit out myself, and there just ain't another Michael in it.
You’re the only Mike in it." He paused for a moment. "Just how'd you
do it, kid? We heard shots. There hasn't been a shot fired from your
rifle. And there isn't a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill
there. I didn't say anything. What could I say? I could only look,
open-mouthed, with amazement. It was then the sergeant spoke again.
"Kid," he said gently. "Every one of those seven bodies over the hill
there was killed, by a sword stroke." That's all I could tell you mom.
As I say, it may have been the sun in my eyes. It may have been the
cold, or the pain. But that’s what happened.
Love,
Michael
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Oak Island Mystery Deepens
The famous (or infamous) Oak Island near Nova Scotia, Canada, has been one of the world's most mysterious places ever since a young man
Daniel McGinnis and his friends found a depression marked by a rope and tackle in 1795. They dug on the spot, discovering a very deep pit with alternating layers of earth and wooden planks. Over the centuries many people died and fortunes were lost digging on Oak Island. The pit, over 200 feet deep, is connected to the sea via tunnels that flooded the pit with sea water once people dug too far down. Whoever dug the pit also engineered the entire island to safeguard whatever was at the bottom (or just to be a jerk and fool future treasure seekers). Gold links and paper with writing have been discovered in the pit, along with a stone covered with undeciphered markings discovered 90 feet down.
Various hypotheses have been put forth to explain the existence of the "Money Pit". Some say it was Blackbeard's treasure, or the survivors of a Spanish galleon hiding their loot from the British, or the Knights Templar buried the Holy Grail there, or proof that Francis Bacon was the real Shakespeare. Or some say it's just a sinkhole that somehow, conveniently, filled up with wooden planks every ten feet.
A new discovery could answer the mystery for good, or maybe just deepen it. Oak Island, which is now connected to the mainland via a causeway and is thus no longer technically an island, may have been visited by the Romans.
An ancient Roman sword was discovered in the waters near the island decades ago by a fisherman who hid it away in a closet somewhere. Now that he's died, his daughter's husband (the current owner now that his wife and daughter are also dead) has handed the sword over to archaeologists who have confirmed that it is a genuine Roman artefact.
This ancient sword clearly depicts Heracles with his legs spread apart, the blade between them.
J. Hutton Pulitzer, the man heading the investigation, says there is a Roman shipwreck off the coast of Oak Island where the sword came from, and that this will rewrite history. Skep-dicks claim that some wealthy collector brought the sword there during a boating trip and just dropped it overboard, but as Pulitzer points out, if you dropped the sword you paid a hefty price for in 20 foot deep water wouldn't you just jump in after it? This isn't like the Titanic at the bottom of the ocean, this is shallow water off the coast of a tiny island.
The wreck has been surveyed, but getting permission to dive it will be difficult. Governments really don't like it when rogue archaeologists buck the status quo. Remember when 200,000 year old human remains were discovered in Mexico? The Mexican army shut the site down permanently and Virginia Steen-McIntyre had her career ruined. A lie was cooked up saying the remains were only 35,000 years old.
Pre-Columbian Atlantic travel should not be controversial in the least, but it is. We know about the cocaine mummies, and the travels of Hanno the Navigator, the Carthaginian explorer who sailed along the coast of Africa all the way to Mt. Cameroon and discovered gorillas. The Pharaoh Necho I commissioned the Phoenicians to circumnavigate Africa, and they correctly described the sun rising and setting in the wrong direction, strong evidence the story is true as it was not known at the time that Africa extended into the southern hemisphere. Thor Heyerdal proved it was possible to travel across the ocean using only a raft made of reeds, recapitulating the voyages of the Polynesians. Columbus himself relied on Portuguese maps to travel to the new world, that they had ventured to 70 years earlier.
Ancient peoples traveled across the oceans all the time. It is modern conceit that says it did not happen. The question remains whether this genuine Roman artefact is proof of Roman visitation of the new world, or whether it really was Thurston Howell accidentally dropping his collector's item overboard during a three hour pleasure cruise. We'll have to wait for Pulitzer and his team to get permission to dive the wreck. Until then it betrays gross arrogance to scoff and claim that such a thing is mere fantasy.
Daniel McGinnis and his friends found a depression marked by a rope and tackle in 1795. They dug on the spot, discovering a very deep pit with alternating layers of earth and wooden planks. Over the centuries many people died and fortunes were lost digging on Oak Island. The pit, over 200 feet deep, is connected to the sea via tunnels that flooded the pit with sea water once people dug too far down. Whoever dug the pit also engineered the entire island to safeguard whatever was at the bottom (or just to be a jerk and fool future treasure seekers). Gold links and paper with writing have been discovered in the pit, along with a stone covered with undeciphered markings discovered 90 feet down.
Various hypotheses have been put forth to explain the existence of the "Money Pit". Some say it was Blackbeard's treasure, or the survivors of a Spanish galleon hiding their loot from the British, or the Knights Templar buried the Holy Grail there, or proof that Francis Bacon was the real Shakespeare. Or some say it's just a sinkhole that somehow, conveniently, filled up with wooden planks every ten feet.
A new discovery could answer the mystery for good, or maybe just deepen it. Oak Island, which is now connected to the mainland via a causeway and is thus no longer technically an island, may have been visited by the Romans.
An ancient Roman sword was discovered in the waters near the island decades ago by a fisherman who hid it away in a closet somewhere. Now that he's died, his daughter's husband (the current owner now that his wife and daughter are also dead) has handed the sword over to archaeologists who have confirmed that it is a genuine Roman artefact.
This ancient sword clearly depicts Heracles with his legs spread apart, the blade between them.
J. Hutton Pulitzer, the man heading the investigation, says there is a Roman shipwreck off the coast of Oak Island where the sword came from, and that this will rewrite history. Skep-dicks claim that some wealthy collector brought the sword there during a boating trip and just dropped it overboard, but as Pulitzer points out, if you dropped the sword you paid a hefty price for in 20 foot deep water wouldn't you just jump in after it? This isn't like the Titanic at the bottom of the ocean, this is shallow water off the coast of a tiny island.
The wreck has been surveyed, but getting permission to dive it will be difficult. Governments really don't like it when rogue archaeologists buck the status quo. Remember when 200,000 year old human remains were discovered in Mexico? The Mexican army shut the site down permanently and Virginia Steen-McIntyre had her career ruined. A lie was cooked up saying the remains were only 35,000 years old.
Pre-Columbian Atlantic travel should not be controversial in the least, but it is. We know about the cocaine mummies, and the travels of Hanno the Navigator, the Carthaginian explorer who sailed along the coast of Africa all the way to Mt. Cameroon and discovered gorillas. The Pharaoh Necho I commissioned the Phoenicians to circumnavigate Africa, and they correctly described the sun rising and setting in the wrong direction, strong evidence the story is true as it was not known at the time that Africa extended into the southern hemisphere. Thor Heyerdal proved it was possible to travel across the ocean using only a raft made of reeds, recapitulating the voyages of the Polynesians. Columbus himself relied on Portuguese maps to travel to the new world, that they had ventured to 70 years earlier.
Ancient peoples traveled across the oceans all the time. It is modern conceit that says it did not happen. The question remains whether this genuine Roman artefact is proof of Roman visitation of the new world, or whether it really was Thurston Howell accidentally dropping his collector's item overboard during a three hour pleasure cruise. We'll have to wait for Pulitzer and his team to get permission to dive the wreck. Until then it betrays gross arrogance to scoff and claim that such a thing is mere fantasy.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Is Peace on Earth Possible?
Kriyananda explains why the yuga cycle gives him hope that peace on Earth is possible in the future.
Now, Kriyananda is not some up in the air "crazy wisdom" guru who uses religion to disguise socialism. He does not go out and promote hedonism under the guise of tantra, though he has made a number of gross errors in his life sexually. He has stated that government spending is responsible for collapsing the economy, he has built several successful communities around the world that have thrived for decades, he is not a cultural Marxist or an economic Marxist, but he does understand the value of community and working together rather than competing.
How can we get peace on Earth? The realist answer is that the old guard of super rich super greedy New World Order elite need to die out. People like Bill Gates and Warren Buffet and the Coca Cola Brothers and Mark Suckerface. People for whom there is not enough money in the universe. People who would sell their own mother for a penny and commit treason to get a no-bid contract. Then the younger people can learn from the example of Ananda and move toward communal living.
Now, Kriyananda is not some up in the air "crazy wisdom" guru who uses religion to disguise socialism. He does not go out and promote hedonism under the guise of tantra, though he has made a number of gross errors in his life sexually. He has stated that government spending is responsible for collapsing the economy, he has built several successful communities around the world that have thrived for decades, he is not a cultural Marxist or an economic Marxist, but he does understand the value of community and working together rather than competing.
How can we get peace on Earth? The realist answer is that the old guard of super rich super greedy New World Order elite need to die out. People like Bill Gates and Warren Buffet and the Coca Cola Brothers and Mark Suckerface. People for whom there is not enough money in the universe. People who would sell their own mother for a penny and commit treason to get a no-bid contract. Then the younger people can learn from the example of Ananda and move toward communal living.
Friday, December 18, 2015
The Truth About The Crusades
Stefan Molyneux explains why the Crusades, a defensive action after 400 years of Muslim invasions, were good, why European civilisation is good, and why no one talks about the Muslim slave trade, which lasted longer than the Atlantic slave trade (the last country on Earth to officially outlaw slavery was Kuwait in 1977), was worse, and led to more deaths.
Runs 33 minutes.
Runs 33 minutes.
Bush Nazi Ties
Prescott Bush, father of George H. W. Bush, and grandfather of both George W. "Capital" Bush and Jeb "George Push" Bush, was a big time Nazi money launderer and lawyer. He was a profoundly evil man who died in 1972 and went to Hell. Presidential candidate Jeb Bush is a hardcore evil Luciferian from a long line of evil Luciferians. The Bush family is evil and should never be allowed back into office.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
