“You cannot be a statist without having giant contradictions.”
“An update and progress report on the interactive project for gently and effectively deprogramming statists.”
“Ending the belief in authoritarianism in the general public is the only solution, the only long-term solution to tyranny and oppression. “
(Larken Rose is our foremost philosopher currently, at least within the Western paradigm, I think.)
– See more at: http://www.thedailysheeple.com/video-how-to-deprogram-someone-from-authoritarian-indoctrination_042015#sthash.V0FLLqU9.dpuf
Text to my brother: “From my incredibly popular website” (Isaac keep your mouth shut if you’re looking at the stats. It’s incredible to me.) Continued: “My brother owns a key to my new condo in Toronto. So far he has not offered to lend it to me. Is he really that stupid?”
My ‘brother’ owns a key to my new condo in Toronto. So far he has not offered to lend it to me. Is he really that stupid?
My evaluations are pretty apt. (I wouldn’t have believed that if I had not kept INCREDIBLE RECORDS.) I don’t yet love myself, but I respect myself a WHOLE LOT. I would dearly love to respect others within my sphere of community. So far, I’m pretty isolated.
God said I will be a lady again. He also said I would have my modesty back. I’ve missed it a lot.
Sorry Dad, I know you think ladies should say “vomit.” But you also think LADIES should be VIOLATED AND CORRUPTED.
I’m sorta looking forward to presenting my case before the local ‘intelligentsia’. I will probably do a multi-media opening statement. I’ll hold a hankie.
Dedicated to my dad and his misguided offspring, and his consort:
(Except the part about wanting them to go to hell and having Satan poke a needle in their eye. He already got to them. Also I do not hate them. “It’s just that when I think of you it makes me wanna yak…”)
I don’t want to be a fear-monger. I’d rather be a hope-monger, but you can’t mong the hope without first setting up shop, with truth. Otherwise, the product wouldn’t be genuine. “If you’re gonna tell the truth, make it funny or they’ll kill you.” (Oscar Wilde paraphrase) I’m starting to believe that MY FAMILY DOESN’T HAVE ANY SENSE OF HUMOR.
I know in my lonely soul, that if ANYBODY would talk to me about the offenses I suffered, and with which I still struggle, I wouldn’t find it necessary to obsessively regurgitate copious verbal family TRUTH. I know, that after I cried a bit, I could sit up straight and stop hyper-ventilating. (RAPE is a VERY TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE.) I know I’d rather have my family back than even…heck, even more than millions of dollars. But, any port in a storm, so I’ll settle.
Despite my apparent (maybe even seemingly indulgent…) exposure of moral foibles in the lives of those who chose to call me deficient… I have been discreet. I know (and I documented and notarized and swore to…) many shocking incidents that demonstrate lies… and expose Goldthorpes as arrogant judgmental prigs. I REALLY HOPE I am not given first opportunity to shed my pent-up tears in front of a judge. I heard yesterday that the judges belong to Goldthorpe after all. They’d have a REAL dilemma with a Goldthorpe at each table. I know somebody at the courthouse would put an arm around my shoulder and ask for all the juicy bits about my menfolk. I really just wish my family would show me the love. But, if they’re unable to behave as NORMAL PEOPLE…they will show me the money.
Cry a While
“Well, I had to go down to see a guy named Mr. Goldsmith. A nasty, dirty, doublecrossing, backstabbing phony I didn’t hafta wanna hafta deal with…but I did it for you. And all you gave me was a smile. Well, I cried for you…now it’s your turn, you can cry awhile.”
My neighbor also told me what it’s like to seek justice in a Luce county court…if the unjust party is a Goldthorpe. I can only imagine how the authorities would like to review Goldthorpe history. I hope I do not have to sue my father for things that are rightfully mine.
I told my neighbor that if he still wanted to sell his property across the river, he should talk to me first. He does. Isaac sees a bridge there.
I wish somebody would talk to me; we could change the world.
GOD MELTED MY GUITAR STAND Miracles, Signs, and Wonders
Great news from the widower-neighbor. Apparently my dad apologized to him at his cousin/the wife’s funeral, and said some nice things. Apparently, my hope has not been misplaced.
Scolding. That’s what I’ve been doing for six years; I’ve been scolding the spoiled brat who is my father. I haven’t cursed him even once. I’m a good mom.
I’m waiting for the bread to bake and then I’ll go across the river. Everything’s a metaphor.
It wouldn’t surprise me even one single bit, if when Jesus sets things up the way he wants, we no longer have a president. I think he might install a REALLY GOOD MOM. You guys are utterly incorrigible, and you don’t even see it. You need a time-out REALLY BAD. (Dad, David, Mom, Lakefield, America, NATO, Israel, GlaxoSmithKline, etc…)
Oh, yes, oh yes…I don’t want as much in the trust accounts…I want to buy Larry’s place. We should rejoin the property, Isaac and I have always thought so, and Josh will organize conferences for individuals who are just waking up. I’ll cook. I really wish you guys would talk to me.
I took one of my newsletters to a dear friend. I’m baking bread for my neighbor who is back from down south. (Should that be capitalized?) Anyway, I’ll give him a copy too. My dad can’t stand him and made that clear when he didn’t even know that his own cousin died because he was being pissy with the husband. My dad has really messed up his life. And others’.
I played the piano! I bet it’s been a year since I touched it. If it were in tune, my efforts might have even sounded like music. I led fake worship for a lot of years. I’m sorry about that now, but once in a while somebody would get touched. Praying-through was a spiritual practice that ended in the Baptist paradigm when I was young. I’d be surprised if my siblings ever even heard of it; I only heard of it because I had some friends who were older. “Praying through” is what it’s all about. Praying-through is where you go to hear the voice of God. When I was a child the Baptist churches had altar calls and kleenex boxes on the front pew. Maybe that’s still the case, but the last Baptist service wherein I was calm enough to remain through the entire sermon to the first tinkling notes of “Just as I AM,” I did not see anybody 1) praying, 2) approaching the front, or 3) crying. It’s not church if you don’t shed a few tears. Even my siblings remember that. Praying-through is “praying in the Spirit.” It’s baby-talk but it’s the right language.
With all the collating I’ve done today I feel like a lawyer again. But I’ll take a shower.
George said, “I need to tell you, since you’re out of the loop, MEGAN is having a baby.” How wonderful. He knows my family has ostracized me. (It’s also good about the baby. Much love and many prayers for that embryo.) I have naked pictures of Megan when she was tiny. I hope this BULLSHIT with her grandfather is over pretty soon.
It’s a beautiful Sunday and I even went to church. (Into the parking lot anyway.) I lifted windshield-wipers and opened screen doors and inserted copies of my 1) Yertle the Turtle-man poem and 2) my dad’s ad for the Newberry News. I even had a couple extra that I dropped off at stores where I’m friendly with the beer-mongers who might be bored. It is a very nice day.
My dad’s ad for the Newberry News:
“Because I did not like her politics or her prayer life, I lied to the state police about LINDA GOLDTHORPE and attempted to have her locked up. Failing that, I stopped talking to her and initiated a smear campaign against her and her family, successfully ostracizing her from friends and the rest of the family. Finding her pariah-hood insufficiently satisfying, I stole her home, that being her ENTIRE NET WORTH, attempted again to lock her up, and subjected her to some REALLY RIDICULOUS gang-stalking. In the intervening years I’ve attempted repeatedly…to buy her off. I offered her things like bank stock and a credit card that I would pay. Linda however, will settle for nothing less than restored relationships. To that end, I promise to begin taking her to lunch once a week. (I mean if she’s willing; I understand she finds my company tedious.)”
Sincerely, and with abject apology for my dishonesty to 1) family, 2) church, 3) cops, and 4) community,
Robert D. Goldthorpe
Dedicated to my family, who will soon have to pay for their own dinner.
“I’ll be around, when he’s gone.”
It’s irrational to believe that although individuals do bad things to one another, when they get into a group (ie. government) they adopt benevolent motivation. But in a similar way it is demonstrable by the life of a single individual, that groups need not be polluted. Although I don’t know how I’d act if my children were starving, after all the forgiving I’ve had to learn, I’m pretty certain I wouldn’t hurt anybody to feed myself. In a group of like-experienced and proven people, we could all trust that we would not get screwed. When Jesus said, about this day, that our enemies will be those of our own household, he wasn’t whistling Dixie. (I’ve never actually heard Jesus whistle. But he created whistling so I expect he could.) There is coming a day when there will be no enemy in the camp. We will be free to progress without fear of censure or consequence. We will trust one another. When that day comes I might vote again.
Additional text to my brother:
“You knew what was being done to us and you wouldn’t say a word.”
(There were some misspellings.) —-
TEXT TO MY BROTHER:
“You sent me to Belgium because you felt guilty. Ask Jesus to forgive you. And make it right. I love you.”
It is instructive to me, that my kind brother broached the ‘possibility’ that I had been REPEATEDLY RAPED about three years ago. (I could look up the date.) He still hasn’t put his arm around my shoulder or requested details. He knows something that makes him uncomfortable. HELL IS MUCH MORE UNCOMFORTABLE. (Nobody has put an arm around my shoulder, thusfar.)
I’m moved to mention once again some photos I inherited, of my niece as a small child. The series exposes my niece in various poses. My niece is naked, in these pictures. I wrote about them (and ALL my assorted memories…) in an affidavit I would necessarily submit to a Luce county court, in the event that I were required to file a lawsuit in order to obtain things that have been stolen from me.
The reason God’s servants must exercise patience is very exciting, and well worth our efforts. God’s plan is so amazing and encapsulates so many details of so many situations and lives, that if we’re patient, he will use our lives to ACCOMPLISH EVERYTHING HE WISHES. (Patience is also necessary because when we lay down our lives for Jesus, he organizes our circumstances so we cannot ‘change our minds’ and escape. At least that’s been my experience, and it was also my prayer.) I want to leave Helmer…badly, but even greater is my desire to fulfill my destiny, so that God may effect the changes he desires. (When I prayed, “Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven” I meant it, and God knew that.) I am by nature very impatient. My recent marriage cultivated patience, but I still require DRASTIC CHANGES TO MYSELF if I am to sit and type much longer. I pray for his Spirit to FILL ME to such an extent that it just bursts from my pores and fingertips and that my discomfort is subdued by the revelation of his glory and the strength of his joy. He says he’s never late, but I’ve been working on this same project for many years and I’m still waiting to see fulfillment of words he gave me in 2006. And since then. And last week. “Lord, please change my heart so I am able to comfortably wait for you to break my father’s; and give me grace to be kind to him until that point. Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus.”
As I was coming out of the Baptist cult, I was detoxed of a single issue at a time, or perhaps a couple. It was a very long process and I’m still recognizing new fallacies within Baptist dogma. Gradual awakening was a great blessing that is no longer available to those still incarcerated by fraudulent organizations. Anybody who chooses to wake up from now on, will not have the luxury of prolonged acclimation to each incremental revelation. Truth will come in perfect order, absolutely, but the breathing space between the shocks endured upon recognition of intentional deception will be abbreviated. Time is speeding up.
The Mamas And The Papas ::: Words Of Love.
“Words of love, so soft and tender won’t win a girl’s heart anymore… if you love her then you must send her, somewhere where she’s never been before…
I gave wrong numbers about a couple things; I’m very poor with numbers and I ask forgiveness for lying:
1) The car my dad gave me does not have 214,000 miles on it. It has 212,…something.
2) It looks like I filed suit in the Court of Jesus Christ on JULY 26, 2013, not July 17, 2013 as I previously stated.
3) Reviewing my records, I learned that I was not mistaken concerning the THREE AND ONE HALF MILLION DOLLAR DEBT I’M SOON TO COLLECT.
I apologize if my inattention to detail has created any misunderstanding. LG
We are “taxpayers”. That’s how the literature and the court cases and the government view us. (Except me, because I have no income. But neither do you, if we’re to be historically accurate. Unless you’re a m*****f***ing corporation.) (Corporations may legally fuck their mothers. If it was intended to maximize profit.) I long to see a company with enough balls to forego the ‘motherfucking’. (And also, the daughter-fucking.) I long to see capitalism expressed with enough moxie to face our overlords with truthful claims of FAIR profit…and compassion. I will see human enterprise transformed, that’s a given. I pray that those about whom I care sufficiently to SIT IN THE SAME ROOM FOR TWO YEARS PROVIDING MATERIAL THAT SUPPORTS THE NECESSITY THAT MY CORPORATE-WISH BE FULFILLED IN ORDER FOR PROSPERITY TO ENRICH THE LIVES OF THE GREATEST NUMBER OF PEOPLE AND TO PROVIDE ETERNAL SECURITY FOR FORMER MOTHERFUCKERS WHO ENJOYED MANY THINGS AT THE EXPENSE OF OTHERS…will see the light. I am not a taxpayer. My behavior is not influenced by attempts to reduce my fictional debt to a group of people who laugh at me for my puny enterprises. Of course, I also have not had my teeth cleaned for years.