Did you ever wonder how man progresses from one generation to another?
You know? Evolves?
Maybe you want to know what happens after you die?
I don’t have much time before they catch me and shut me down!
Here is the skinny on what is going on behind the scenes that you folks are only supposed to guess at.
I am going straight to the public via Dreamland.
If we had one of those butt-wipe reporting agencies, like MSNBC, I would not have to do this! I could just “leak” it, just like all your politicians do to smear someone else.
Death is the Emperor of all He surveys,
But this is just a shell,
For the essence, the Soul is energy forever,
The body, just a place to dwell.
Death will ner’ learn this, nor change his views.
A time shall come, when
Our souls and their essence shall renew,
While Death beats the drum askew.
I knew I was dead! Everyone does when they die. It’s not at all like the movies, where the newly dead walk around and say, “Where am I? What happened?”
You know, because you have been here before!
The whole purpose of living is to improve and run the numbers up! This happens because if mankind synergy is good working together, that helps the numbers.
It is a game set up by the “Big Guy”.
Normal people average a one, but a select few of us can really jack the numbers up when we recycle.
As mankind goes through the motions of living, every population born is different, and the energy they use together is different.
Most of you refuse to realize that working together is a good thing.
Over the eons, we have watched mankind fight about everything from the land, religion, sexual preferences, and so forth.
Hell, there was even one where they fought over one woman. Geez!
Nothing is ever free. And doing your own thing just breeds the ‘ME’ syndrome, which is counter to the Syn-energy idea, which is how ‘WE’ all progress.
Since your generation is now consumed by the ‘ME’, I think the numbers will be pretty low this time.
I’ll give you a for instance:
Give a child that has plenty, a toy. He/She has been wanting that toy!
As a matter of fact, he/she screams every time he/she sees it at the Toy Store. The child will roll in the aisle, making the other patrons think he/she has epilepsy or you are beating him/her. To draw further attention, the child screams, spits, and pounds the floor.
“I want it.”
Dr. Spock noted “child expert”, would tell you to handle the situation with adult reasoning and positive input. (It was decided NOT to recycle Spock. Instead, his soul was buried in a sea worm 5000 feet down in the Pacific, to be later eaten by small fish and microbes. I say, good riddance.)
The spoiled child’s mother states,
“Johnny, in public, there are behavioral modes we adhere to. I will be glad to purchase this toy. However, in the future, you must restrain yourself from this type of behavior.”
Of course, Little Johnny/Joan has heard this speech a few hundred times before! He has learned he can ignore his mother to do just exactly what he wants.
Once Little Johnny/Joan has attained his goal of controlling his mother, and getting the toy, guess what happens. The toy will very soon go on the floor with all of the others, where it will be seldom touched again.
Now, on the other side of town, we have the child without plenty of toys. His mother is a single mom, with a low paying job, earning just enough to keep the household functioning. Michael wants a toy, too, but his mother makes it quite plain she doesn’t have the money to purchase. Michael is also upset, as he really wants the toy. So, he holds his mother’s hand, while burying his tear stricken face in her skirt folds. She feels bad and makes a decision on the way home.
“Mikey, I get paid on Friday. If you will promise me to keep your bedroom clean for the next month, I will put that toy in Lay a Way, and have it paid for by the end of the month. Is that Ok?”
That was my last cycle.
I had that toy, until I became a man, had my own family, and helped my children earn their own things. Loved my momma, and I tried to be as good a parent to my children as she was to me.
Let me give you an example of synergy.
Two strangers sit in a featureless room for a test. Eventually, the silence becomes deafening, and one of them has to speak. The initial words could be like a gunshot, as the pressure and the need to speak, has been building, until, the break comes.
“So, how do you like it so far?” One asks.
The other gratefully looks up from his shoe tips, and says, “Pretty damn boring, don’t you think?”
Now that we have a conversation, the subject material may turn to safe topics, like family, weather, etc. Topics likely devoid of potential controversy. Just like in battle, two adversaries would be testing each other’s weaknesses, without showing their own.
While this “parrying” is taking place, a type of synergy will be reached. A mood, an environment, maybe even electric.
NOW! Introduce another test subject into the room.
The energy level has been radically changed! At first, it may be calm and quiet, and yet, it could go the other way. But, for sure, that environment, and energy has changed.
That is the way of life. Our environmental- political- social and economics, are dictated by the synergy of the population on the earth at that moment.
Oh, you have earth shakers, who make dramatic changes, like Adolf Hitler, or Alexander the Great, Little Richard, or Bill Clinton. But, you also have common folk like Tim Simmons, Lacy Dalton, Louise Meyer, etc.
You even have some that drive the numbers down, because they trend in hate.
Al Sharpten, Joe Scarborgh, Nancy Pelosa, and so forth.
All of these have an impact on the Synergy of the Earth.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved my family during my last cycle. I had a great wife, (for once), and I had great kids. It’s just that I couldn’t make enough to clothe and feed them.
Instead, I was a big mouth, that got into trouble with the boss, my neighbors, etc. for my opinion. But, that is beside the point.
Imagine making me a big mouth!
You see, the Big Guy has broken promises before, but this time, he really chapped my butt!
Next cycle, I wanted to be a female drug researcher that found a treatment for certain forms of bone cancer affecting children.
The Big Guy liked that idea!
Did I get to pursue my idea?
That idea went to kissy face Louie.
Man, that ticks me off!
Of course, I won’t be telling anybody anything else, for a while, say two or three hundred millennia, but you gotta say, “Oh Well!”
I have cut to the chase, before, they put an energy snuggie on me.
The theory of reincarnation is fun, but we don’t call it that.
You see, this is more like gambling. Yeah, that’s it, gambling!
Reincarnation is just a fancy name that you have to explain. But, gambling, everyone understands that.
Now, when the horses are at the starting gate, you don’t know which one will win.
So, you look at ’em, and say, “Boy look at the head on that one! She looks fast!” Naturally, this nag will come in last and you will lose your entire five dollar investment. Then the idiot you’re with may check out one of the others and say, “I’m going with Number 9. I like the way her tail hangs down.
Of course, Number 9 was my favorite husband, too. Or was that how long he was? Oh well!”
No, the way we play the reincarnation game is like this:
We are all waiting up here, watching our buddies down there, while all of you ones muddle by.
We recognize our buddies by the attributes they have picked up through time.
For instance, Ole Harold, as we call him, has an indescribable urge to pick his nose. As far as the group can remember, he has been doing this since at least 550 B.C.
Back then he was a Roman prostitute. As a girl, we all thought he was a wash, so he’s been putting in for boys ever since.
Of course, he’s still pretty ugly. But he has cute legs.
Anyway, we can always recognize him first by his nose-picking, then by his sexual habits (he still likes those toga dresses, with the rope), next by the fact that he leans a little to the left, and finally by the fact that whenever he gets mad, he runs away to where he is alone, and cries.
Such a Wussy! I think that started in 550 B.C. as well.
Whenever you are ‘Delivered’, you don’t know a thing.
Your memory is absolutely clean. You have no prior knowledge of any kind. You just acquire these personal attributes that you once had before and of course, you may add a couple.
(Ole Harold has the longest list, I think.)
Then you get through life the best you can. You don’t know the outcome, any more than which horse will win. Meanwhile, it’s better than even money that you won’t do anything significant cause most of you are just ones.
If you are lucky enough to be someone important and do something important, then you win more points.
Now, if enough of us in a single generation can be important and do something important, then the average point score will take a big jump.
So far, we average a big jump, like every fourth or fifth generation, about a hundred years.
We are way overdue right now. We haven’t had a big one since the fifties, nor a decent one since the sixties. The seventies and eighties were miserable with almost no gain.
The 90s, ho-hum. The turn of the century had its moments.
Hell, it is a good time for me to be in an energy snuggie.
Only Judy in our group did well one cycle back, and she got murdered by a drug dealer in ’07.
Personally, I don’t think she should not have called him ‘scum,’ without saying Mister first. You know?
Anyway, I know, you have watched the late night shows and you might have seen a nut, who through hypnosis found out he was Cleopatra a while back.
Well, we have some practical jokers up here, that like to implant some fake memories, or create some challenges to keep a buddy from progressing too fast.
Like several cycles ago, I was the leader of a tribe in New Guinea, and I forced my tribe to adopt some new hunting techniques, that kept our hungry season down to a month. That was probably the best change for those people in a thousand years. Of course, it caused a lifestyle change, because it got some of them into farming, and a lot preferred it to head hunting.
Just to keep my ego in check, my Section Chief next delivered me as a horrible French farmer whose dairy cows couldn’t make milk. I hung myself, in my own barn, with a borrowed piece of rope.
Four or five cycles back, I had acquired an affinity for ropes as a sailor, Of course, I also acquired an affinity for cussing. I am not going to do that here, because there are a lot of kids listening in Dreamland!
But, Mannnn! I would like to.
I think cussing blows the soot out of the brain. You know?
Anyway, I’m getting off track, again!
So, I implant this fake memory of being someone important. Your subconscious is constantly looking for new material. I mean, when you have recurring dreams, it ain’t what Freud said about you having an Oedipus complex.
Nah, it’s your mind being too lazy to search the memory banks for fresh material. When it does search for fresh material, sooner or later it comes across one of these little memory bombs.
So, you dream that you are absolutely beautiful, or highly intelligent, or in charge of thousands of babes.
Whatever! You take on this air about you. Sometimes you’re a little arrogant. Sometimes a lot!
See, in the game, as long as you’re doing good things, like helping people, being truthful, being chaste, you know, being boring, you progress! But, there are a lot of things to slow you down. These negatives include, but are certainly not limited to:
Killing (Ex-wives are considered the exception here. In most cycles this is worth two points.) Just kidding, really, teasing!
Taking the last peanut butter cookie, but leaving the empty package in the cabinet.
Cheating at Monopoly
Screwing around, Screwing dogs, Dogs screwing you!
I’m sure you get the picture!
My personal favorite memory bomb was my last cycle.
When I was fifteen, I got my girlfriend to bake some fudge brownies, except a lot of the Chocolate, was Ex-Lax, and I mixed in California Brown (Grass, Hemp, and Mary Jane. You know?).
I delivered 10 pounds of brownies to the night shift cops in the little town I grew up in. Well, two hours later, there wasn’t cop on the street.
They got real good buzzes at first. Oh, they were having a hell of a Time!
I’m sure the Ex-Lax kicked in half an hour or so, after the head games. Anyway, they fought like Hell over the johns. I hear some strange stories of cops being seen by the roadside, in a peculiar position.
And one time, Ole Harold was in a real pickle. We arranged to have him delivered to become a soldier that served in World War I. Then we got a British guy, to shoot his German nose off. From then on, he was a nervous wreck.
I don’t think it was because of how he looked. Nah, I think it was because he couldn’t pick that damned nose. Funny, huh?
Anyway, the rules of the game are:
you aren’t for sure that there is life after death;
you are sure that life is a big struggle;
nobody gets through without dirtying his diapers a little, and some really get dirty!
Because you don’t think that life is all that great, there’s a constant battle deciding how to live your life. Every lifespan, we try to get better and to improve. Now, if everyone could improve to the same Good Level, what we call, the thirties, (with lots of zeroes) and then human souls could move to the next level, and EVOLVE.
We hear the Game potential is in the thousands, but as long as you have politicians and drug dealers, well,
Give it a couple of hundred years.
By that time, Man will be aware of the fact that another person has a different skin color, and it won’t make any difference. Man will be peaceful and attempt to help others who are less fortunate.
Mankind will be intelligent enough not to put a limp-wristed, frog-protecting, flag-burning, criminal-protecting, welfare-sucking, so and so in the President’s chair.
Uhh, sorry. My last cycle, I lived the US and was paying taxes out the wazoo, for programs that hard-working, intelligent, well-meaning individuals didn’t need.
Don’t get me started on that Dis-advantage stuff! I never was politically correct, which meant that I call ’em as I see ’em. What a prez we had then. Pitiful.
Anyway, I have heard that the evolving level is where man-like creatures don’t need to speak, but can read other thoughts, and making love is like two bolts of lightning rubbing against each other! Ooooh!
Of course, I also heard that we would spend most of our time eating Cauliflower, and trying to turn cave, fish-protecting liberals into functioning humans.
Strike that! I take that back!!!
(I forgot my Section Chief was one of the mucky-mucks for ‘Save the Whale’, his last cycle)
Oh, what the Hell! I’m going to be in all kinds of trouble anyway, through your little dreams!
Anyway, in order for mankind to evolve, most of the population will have to move together in synergy!
Looking around me now, at you people, I don’t think it is going to happen too soon.
Anyway, reincarnation says that there are billions, upon billions of souls lying around. Some are used in butterflies, some in people, and finally some are in cows.
There are just a few thousand of us at this heavenly level! We get delivered over and over again, to drive the score higher.
Your group just get recycled for foundation numbers.
How many times can a piece of paper be recycled, huh? It may start out high quality, but after four or five turns, how good is it? You ever pick up your grocery sack, filled with butter, eggs, cheese, and spinach, and have the bottom drop out?
I rest my case!
You don’t believe me!
Look around you! How many of you have the guts to try something new? Instead of putting on the black shoes, with the dark suit, with the white shirt.
Try something different! And 99 percent of you couldn’t do it on a cash bet!
Try this one on! The next time you are in a crowded theatre, and there are some young thugs behind you making a racket, stand up and tell them to shut up! Instead of sneaking out to the bathroom, while really getting the theatre manager and making him do it.
Maybe they won’t beat you up. They will probably respect you for your courage because they know the rights of the individual are important. You know?
Columbus was one of us! He didn’t know it until he died, but he was.
Lyndon B. Johnson was one of us too. Ole Harold will never live that one down!
Louie Armstrong was one too. That’s our Judy now, and she is a great soul, with the sexiest energy you have ever felt. Judy is probably further ahead than all of the rest of the gang. She has really been some hot people. I just love it when she Trans through me. I try to get in her way. I think she is on to me though.
The last time I tried that, she pulled an energy snuggie around me. This the souls’ equivalent of a “snuggie”. You know, where someone sneaks up behind you and pulls your underwear up by the waistband, until you can’t breathe, and your voice stays high for half an hour.
Anyway, that’s the game! Now that everyone knows, they will have to change all of the rules. That ought to keep ’em occupied for a while. No telling what will happen next! Of course, I will not know it, because I will not get to talk to anyone for a while. I’ll be back, though!
Oh, and by the way, when Mr. Death comes knocking and you are on your last breath, you know? When you feel a peace come over your body and your pulse rate drops, you start to feel a little colder and you could swear you are being pulled out of your body?
Just look straight into Mr. Death’s beady little green eyes, stick out your tongue, break a little wind, and tell him to kiss your begonias!
It ain’t over, no sir!! You are just getting recycled!!
The next time you may make level 15.
Uh, try to skip that one. That is the equivalent to a divorce lawyer, con man, child molester, used car salesman, Democratic Senator, small-country, towel-headed, beady-eyed, over-emotional, religious-fanatic, uh,
(oops, my section chief was a 15 three cycles ago), overall good guy!
A sixteen is better! (Of course, you got all of those little rug rats to take care of)
Try to work together and progress.
It will be a few cycles before I get a next time.
Whoops, I hear the slurping sound that an energy snuggie makes, the energy squad must be close.
I am off to the Big House. All silence, darkness, and no energy.
Tata for now, dude and dudettes.