Christine in Criticsland

 

From: Tarjei Straume
Date: Fri Feb 13, 2004 12:49 pm
Subject: Christine in Criticsland

Anthroposophy Tomorrow is the place to be,
where topics are open and speech is free.
It's aimed at the future, but anything goes -
And where we are headed, Lucifer knows :)

If Steiner and Waldorf is something for you,
and you'd like a nice trip to Lemuria too,
You've come to the right place where action is wild -
You can write like a scholar or play like a child!

Christ calms the storm every once in a while,
but choking its life out is not quite his style -
So the waves go a-roarin', the winds keep a-blowin',
and where it's all headed is Lucifer's knowin'

Our ship is on course, though, with foodstuffs and spices,
surrounded by vessels in cloaking devices -
Enemies, pirates, and sharks in the ocean
are waiting for blood dripping from the commotion.

Someone complains, "Let's sail home, Mama Mia!"
"Get your ass off my bridge!" yells Captain Sophia,
"Get out on the deck; you can walk off those planks
"and get eaten by sharks if you don't join their ranks!"

Our sybils hear voices and write their long tomes
about visions experienced far from their homes.
Our poets chime in and quote Byron and Keats,
and Shakeapeare's onboard showing off a few feats.

But then comes Christine, another loose cannon
whose forwarded warnings are never abandoned -
She flies like a fireball up in the air
and crashlands full blast in the reptiles' own lair.

Welcome, says Dugan, I'm so glad you came -
You're invited to dinner, our course is the same:
Some stew made of roaches, a huge roasted rodent,
and a shot of Critics' Brandy; it's awfully potent.

To rescue Christine, our ship hits the Nile
where the crocs float like lumber and give us a smile,
hopin' to pound once you touch the fresh water,
By the banks are the snakes waiting for their next order.

"Hey Christine!" we shout, "Come let's pull you on deck!!
"I'd love to," she says, "But I can't; I'm a wreck!
"Leave without me! Get going! Sail back to your sharks!
"You cannot stay here in Jurassic Park!"

Diana is puzzled, because she's been told
she's a snake or a goblin or something else cold -
She keeps lookin' around and ponderin' aloud
if being a Tyrannicus would make her more proud?

(That's how far I got. Could someone else continue this epic please?)

Tarjei
http://uncletaz.com/

...................................................................................................................................


From: holderlin66
Date: Fri Feb 13, 2004 1:37 pm
Subject: Re: Christine in Criticsland

--- In anthroposophy_tomorrow@yahoogroups.com,

I hate it when we have such brilliant people. Make sure this becomes the warning label for AT... Buyer beware Pirates of the Caribbean against captain smirk at work.

Tarjei Straume wrote:

If Steiner and Waldorf is something for you,
and you'd like a nice trip to Lemuria too,
You've come to the right place where action is wild -
You can write like a scholar or play like a child!

Christ calms the storm every once in a while,
but choking its life out is not quite his style -
So the waves go a-roarin', the winds keep a-blowin',
and where it's all headed is Lucifer's knowin'

<snip>

She flies like a fireball up in the air
and crashlands full blast in the reptiles' own lair.

Welcome, says Dugan, I'm so glad you came -
You're invited to dinner, our course is the same:
Some stew made of roaches, a huge roasted rodent,
and a shot of Critics' Brandy; it's awfully
IMpotent.

To rescue Christine, our ship hits the Nile
where the crocs float like lumber and give us a smile,
hopin' to
POUNCE once you touch the fresh water,
By the banks are the snakes waiting for their next order.

...................................................................................................................................


From: Frank Thomas Smith
Date: Fri Feb 13, 2004 1:41 pm
Subject: RE: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

Frank Thomas Smith
http://SouthernCrossReview.org
----- Original Message -----
From: Tarjei Straume
Sent: Friday, February 13, 2004 5:49 PM
Subject: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

Anthroposophy Tomorrow is the place to be,
where topics are open and speech is free.
It's aimed at the future, but anything goes -
And where we are headed, Lucifer knows :)

If Steiner and Waldorf is something for you,
and you'd like a nice trip to Lemuria too,
You've come to the right place where action is wild -
You can write like a scholar or play like a child!

Christ calms the storm every once in a while,
but choking its life out is not quite his style -
So the waves go a-roarin', the winds keep a-blowin',
and where it's all headed is Lucifer's knowin'

Our ship is on course, though, with foodstuffs and spices,
surrounded by vessels in cloaking devices -
Enemies, pirates, and sharks in the ocean
are waiting for blood dripping from the commotion.

Someone complains, "Let's sail home, Mama Mia!"
"Get your ass off my bridge!" yells Captain Sophia,
"Get out on the deck; you can walk off those planks
"and get eaten by sharks if you don't join their ranks!"

Our sybils hear voices and write their long tomes
about visions experienced far from their homes.
Our poets chime in and quote Byron and Keats,
and Shakeapeare's onboard showing off a few feats.

But then comes Christine, another loose cannon
whose forwarded warnings are never abandoned -
She flies like a fireball up in the air
and crashlands full blast in the reptiles' own lair.

Welcome, says Dugan, I'm so glad you came -
You're invited to dinner, our course is the same:
Some stew made of roaches, a huge roasted rodent,
and a shot of Critics' Brandy; it's awfully potent.

To rescue Christine, our ship hits the Nile
where the crocs float like lumber and give us a smile,
hopin' to pound once you touch the fresh water,
By the banks are the snakes waiting for their next order.

"Hey Christine!" we shout, "Come let's pull you on deck!!
"I'd love to," she says, "But I can't; I'm a wreck!
"Leave without me! Get going! Sail back to your sharks!
"You cannot stay here in Jurassic Park!"

Diana is puzzled, because she's been told
she's a snake or a goblin or something else cold -
She keeps lookin' around and ponderin' aloud
if being a Tyrannicus would make her more proud?

(That's how far I got. Could someone else continue this epic please?)

What you get is what you see.
So, Tarjei, let it be,

Lieber Tarjei, my advice to thee
is quote Let it BE:
give up pseudopoesia
and stick to anarchosophia.

...................................................................................................................................

From: Frank Thomas Smith
Date: Fri Feb 13, 2004 1:46 pm
Subject: RV: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

Sorry, folks - eagerness to compliment T's genius typo-ed me.

Anthroposophy Tomorrow is the place to be,
where topics are open and speech is free.
It's aimed at the future, but anything goes -
And where we are headed, Lucifer knows :)

If Steiner and Waldorf is something for you,
and you'd like a nice trip to Lemuria too,
You've come to the right place where action is wild -
You can write like a scholar or play like a child!

Christ calms the storm every once in a while,
but choking its life out is not quite his style -
So the waves go a-roarin', the winds keep a-blowin',
and where it's all headed is Lucifer's knowin'

Our ship is on course, though, with foodstuffs and spices,
surrounded by vessels in cloaking devices -
Enemies, pirates, and sharks in the ocean
are waiting for blood dripping from the commotion.

Someone complains, "Let's sail home, Mama Mia!"
"Get your ass off my bridge!" yells Captain Sophia,
"Get out on the deck; you can walk off those planks
"and get eaten by sharks if you don't join their ranks!"

Our sybils hear voices and write their long tomes
about visions experienced far from their homes.
Our poets chime in and quote Byron and Keats,
and Shakeapeare's onboard showing off a few feats.

But then comes Christine, another loose cannon
whose forwarded warnings are never abandoned -
She flies like a fireball up in the air
and crashlands full blast in the reptiles' own lair.

Welcome, says Dugan, I'm so glad you came -
You're invited to dinner, our course is the same:
Some stew made of roaches, a huge roasted rodent,
and a shot of Critics' Brandy; it's awfully potent.

To rescue Christine, our ship hits the Nile
where the crocs float like lumber and give us a smile,
hopin' to pound once you touch the fresh water,
By the banks are the snakes waiting for their next order.

"Hey Christine!" we shout, "Come let's pull you on deck!!
"I'd love to," she says, "But I can't; I'm a wreck!
"Leave without me! Get going! Sail back to your sharks!
"You cannot stay here in Jurassic Park!"

Diana is puzzled, because she's been told
she's a snake or a goblin or something else cold -
She keeps lookin' around and ponderin' aloud
if being a Tyrannicus would make her more proud?

(That's how far I got. Could someone else continue this epic please?)

Lieber Tarjei, my advice to thee
is quote Let it BE:
give up pseudopoesia
and stick to anarchosophia.

...................................................................................................................................

From: golden3000997
Date: Fri Feb 13, 2004 7:28 pm
Subject: Re: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

CHAPTER XII
Alice's Evidence

`Here!' cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of goldfish she had accidentally upset the week before.

`Oh, I beg your pardon!' she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident of the goldfish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of idea that they must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or they would die.

`The trial cannot proceed,' said the King in a very grave voice, `until all the jurymen are back in their proper places-- all,' he repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said do. Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put the Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon got it out again, and put it right; `not that it signifies much,' she said to herself; `I should think it would be quite as much use in the trial one way up as the other.' As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the court.

`What do you know about this business?' the King said to Alice.

`Nothing,' said Alice.

`Nothing whatever?' persisted the King.

`Nothing whatever,' said Alice.

`That's very important,' the King said, turning to the jury. They were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit interrupted: `Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course,' he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.

`Unimportant, of course, I meant,' the King hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, `important--unimportant-- unimportant--important--' as if he were trying which word sounded best.

Some of the jury wrote it down `important,' and some `unimportant.' Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; `but it doesn't matter a bit,' she thought to herself.

At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his note-book, cackled out `Silence!' and read out from his book, `Rule Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.'

Everybody looked at Alice.

`I'm not a mile high,' said Alice.

`You are,' said the King.

`Nearly two miles high,' added the Queen.

`Well, I shan't go, at any rate,' said Alice: `besides, that's not a regular rule: you invented it just now.'

`It's the oldest rule in the book,' said the King.

`Then it ought to be Number One,' said Alice.

The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. `Consider your verdict,' he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice.

`There's more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,' said the White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; `this paper has just been picked up.'

`What's in it?' said the Queen.

`I haven't opened it yet,' said the White Rabbit, `but it seems to be a letter, written by the prisoner to--to somebody.'

`It must have been that,' said the King, `unless it was written to nobody, which isn't usual, you know.'

`Who is it directed to?' said one of the jurymen.

`It isn't directed at all,' said the White Rabbit; `in fact, there's nothing written on the outside.' He unfolded the paper as he spoke, and added `It isn't a letter, after all: it's a set of verses.'

`Are they in the prisoner's handwriting?' asked another of they jurymen.

`No, they're not,' said the White Rabbit, `and that's the queerest thing about it.' (The jury all looked puzzled.)

`He must have imitated somebody else's hand,' said the King. (The jury all brightened up again.)

`Please your Majesty,' said the Knave, `I didn't write it, and they can't prove I did: there's no name signed at the end.'

`If you didn't sign it,' said the King, `that only makes the matter worse. You must have meant some mischief, or else you'd have signed your name like an honest man.'

There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the King had said that day.

`That proves his guilt,' said the Queen.

`It proves nothing of the sort!' said Alice. `Why, you don't even know what they're about!'

`Read them,' said the King.

The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. `Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?' he asked.

`Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, `and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'

These were the verses the White Rabbit read:--

`They told me you had been to her,
And mentioned me to him:
She gave me a good character,
But said I could not swim.

He sent them word I had not gone
(We know it to be true):
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?

I gave her one, they gave him two,
You gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.

If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.

My notion was that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.

Don't let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.'

`That's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet,' said the King, rubbing his hands; `so now let the jury--'

`If any one of them can explain it,' said Alice, (she had grown so large in the last few minutes that she wasn't a bit afraid of interrupting him,) `I'll give him sixpence. I don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it.'

The jury all wrote down on their slates, `She doesn't believe there's an atom of meaning in it,' but none of them attempted to explain the paper.

`If there's no meaning in it,' said the King, `that saves a world of trouble, you know, as we needn't try to find any. And yet I don't know,' he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them with one eye; `I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. "--Said I could not swim--" you can't swim, can you?' he added, turning to the Knave.

The Knave shook his head sadly. `Do I look like it?' he said. (Which he certainly did NOT, being made entirely of cardboard.)

`All right, so far,' said the King, and he went on muttering over the verses to himself: `"We know it to be true--" that's the jury, of course-- "I gave her one, they gave him two--" why, that must be what he did with the tarts, you know--'

`But, it goes on "They all returned from him to you,"' said Alice.

`Why, there they are!' said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts on the table. `Nothing can be clearer than that. Then again--"Before she had this fit--" you never had fits, my dear, I think?' he said to the Queen.

`Never!' said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard as she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it lasted.)

`Then the words don't fit you,' said the King, looking round the court with a smile. There was a dead silence.

`It's a pun!' the King added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed, `Let the jury consider their verdict,' the King said, for about the twentieth time that day.

`No, no!' said the Queen. `Sentence first--verdict afterwards.'

`Stuff and nonsense!' said Alice loudly. `The idea of having the sentence first!'

`Hold your tongue!' said the Queen, turning purple.

`I won't!' said Alice.

`Off with her head!' the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody moved.

`Who cares for you?' said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by this time.) `You're nothing but a pack of cards!'

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
Lewis Carroll
The Millennium Fulcrum Edition 3.0

http://www.cs.cmu.edu/People/rgs/alice-table.html

...................................................................................................................................

From: golden3000997
Date: Fri Feb 13, 2004 8:05 pm
Subject: Re: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

There once was a girl named Christine
Whose thought-life was mostly and serene
Until tossed by Taz
Headlong in the razz
And dazzle of critics' machine

...................................................................................................................................

From: golden3000997
Date: Fri Feb 13, 2004 9:33 pm
Subject: Re: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

In a message dated 2/13/2004 11:17:49 PM Eastern Standard Time, golden3000997 writes:

There once was a girl named Christine
Whose thought-life was mostly and serene
Until tossed by Taz
Headlong in the razz
And dazzle of critics' machine

Damned those typos! : )

...................................................................................................................................

From: Mike Helsher
Date: Fri Feb 13, 2004 10:24 pm
Subject: Re: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

Anthroposophy Tomorrow is the place to be,
where topics are open and speech is free.
It's aimed at the future, but anything goes -
And where we are headed, Lucifer knows :)

If Steiner and Waldorf is something for you,
and you'd like a nice trip to Lemuria too,
You've come to the right place where action is wild -
You can write like a scholar or play like a child!

Christ calms the storm every once in a while,
but choking its life out is not quite his style -
So the waves go a-roarin', the winds keep a-blowin',
and where it's all headed is Lucifer's knowin'

Our ship is on course, though, with foodstuffs and spices,
surrounded by vessels in cloaking devices -
Enemies, pirates, and sharks in the ocean
are waiting for blood dripping from the commotion.

Someone complains, "Let's sail home, Mama Mia!"
"Get your ass off my bridge!" yells Captain Sophia,
"Get out on the deck; you can walk off those planks
"and get eaten by sharks if you don't join their ranks!"

Our sybils hear voices and write their long tomes
about visions experienced far from their homes.
Our poets chime in and quote Byron and Keats,
and Shakeapeare's onboard showing off a few feats.

But then comes Christine, another loose cannon
whose forwarded warnings are never abandoned -
She flies like a fireball up in the air
and crashlands full blast in the reptiles' own lair.

Welcome, says Dugan, I'm so glad you came -
You're invited to dinner, our course is the same:
Some stew made of roaches, a huge roasted rodent,
and a shot of Critics' Brandy; it's awfully potent.

To rescue Christine, our ship hits the Nile
where the crocs float like lumber and give us a smile,
hopin' to pound once you touch the fresh water,
By the banks are the snakes waiting for their next order.

"Hey Christine!" we shout, "Come let's pull you on deck!!
"I'd love to," she says, "But I can't; I'm a wreck!
"Leave without me! Get going! Sail back to your sharks!
"You cannot stay here in Jurassic Park!"

Diana is puzzled, because she's been told
she's a snake or a goblin or something else cold -
She keeps lookin' around and ponderin' aloud
if being a Tyrannicus would make her more proud?

And all hail to peter
the anthropop eater
Who says he's not unkind
when he tries to clear your mind

And if racism's not your bag
oh well, that's a drag
Because his intellect starts to sag
If you cannot comprehend his brag

(That's how far I got. Could someone else continue this epic please?)

Mike: Don't laugh. I am a bad poet, but at least I tried. I think someone else should keep it going.

...................................................................................................................................

From: Tarjei Straume
Date: Sat Feb 14, 2004 2:26 pm
Subject: Re: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

[Special notice: Permission to forward this post to other lists is hereby strongly discouraged by the author. Please keep in mind the strategy of general Molkte: "Take a defensive position that is so aggressive that the enemy must come to you on your conditions." If you post this on other lists, they won't have to come here to read it, and when surfers search for this text of mine, the search engines bring them to enemy websites. For this reason, all my texts will stay on anthro-territory.]

Thank you for your contributions to this epic thread. I especially appreciate Christine's quote from Lewis Carroll. John Lennon considered Lewis Carroll the most brilliant author ever. The man who discovered the imagination of little girls and wrote about it. Through this imagination, we get a glimpse of the spiritual. When Alice goes through the looking glass, the mirror, everything is reversed. John Lennon was deeply influenced by this concept, not only in lyrics like "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "I Am the Walrus," but in how new music could be composed by playing tracks backwards on the tape recorder. One day Yoko was playing a Mozart sonata on the piano, and in a moment of inspiration, John asked if she could play it backwards. She did, and that was how the stunningly beautiful song from the Abbey Road album, "Because" was born.

I'm getting ahead of myself here. Back to Alice as the anthro-girl, whether we call her Christine or someone else, in Criticsland. Jurassic Park? Maybe, but I've got a better idea.

I don't know how many of you non-Scandinavians are familiar with Henrik Ibsen's most famous play, "Peer Gynt." It's extremely reminiscent of Goethe's "Faust" btw. Ibsen captured the very essence of the Norwegian character in Peer Gynt, and the story is a metamorphoses and encounter of spirits and of karma that makes it look like Faust. Naturally, it wasn't too much of a surprise to me when I learned what some Ibsen scholars recently discovered, namely that the playwright was reading Theosophy (Blavatsky) Take that to the bank, PLANS, and shake your heads in paranoid disgust. Try proclaiming to the world that Henrik Ibsen was a racist, a pre-Nazi, an anti-Semite and nuts in his head and all the rest of your usual crap and see where it gets you.

Anyway, the PLANS-WC lair is reminiscent of a lot of things. A toilet or sewer inevitably comes to mind first (WC remember), but if we are to think about something more imaginative and exalted, we're brought to The Royal Hall of the King of the Dovre-Trolls (Peer Gynt, Act 2, Scene 6), where a large assembly of troll-courtiers, gnomes, and brownies await Peer. The Old Man of the Dovre on the throne - let's call him Deedee just for the hell of it - crowned, and with his sceptre in his hand. His children and nearest relations are ranged on both sides. (Fill in the blanks as you please.) Peer Gynt is replaced by Christine or Alice or the Anthro-Girl, who stands before The Old Man of the Dovre. Violent commotion in the hall.

http://home.c2i.net/espenjo/home/ibsen/peergynt/pg_2f_e.htm

I'm not going to quote from the play (but by all means, help yourself to a morsel from the webpage above). I'd like to continue with Christine's adventurous journey, and I do like to call her Christine, because our Christine Natalie shares her first name with my stepsister and her last name with my late mother, Julia Natalie. So Christine is Lewis Carroll's Alice and Henrik Ibsen's Peer, and she has gone off into the air like a fireball because Diana played with matches, and she crashlands in......

This is where I wish to edit what I wrote, inspired by Bradford's keen interest in the old Rolling Stones song, "Sympathy for the Devil":

But then comes Christine, another loose cannon
whose forwarded warnings are never abandoned -
She flies through the air like a fireball
and crashlands full blast in the Dovre-trolls' Hall.

Pleased to meet you, says Deedee, You do know my name -
Getting anthro's in here is my specialty game.
Say hello to my cronies; they've followed your scent
Let them punch you around if you're still anthro-bent.

I was around in the formative years
when St. Rudy dared not yet speak
and I made sure that his science peers
labelled him as a freak.

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game

I stuck around in Dornach
When I saw it was a time for a blaze
Made sure it gave Rudy a fatal blow
when he saw all that work was in vain.

I rode a tank
Held a general’s rank
When the blitzkrieg raged
And the bodies stank

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah
Ah, what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah

I watched with glee
While Ita and Marie
Fought for several decades

For the gods they made
I shouted out,
Who called them Nazis?
When after all
It was you and me

Let me please introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste

And I laid traps for Waldorf schools
Who get closed before they reached bombay

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby

As Deedee finished his welcome song,
he offered Christine something strong -
Some stew made of roaches, a huge roasted rodent,
and a shot of Troll Brandy that's awfully potent.

OK, now someone else has to take over - again.)

Tarjei
http://uncletaz.com/

...................................................................................................................................

From: Gisele
Date: Sat Feb 14, 2004 4:35 pm
Subject: Re: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Christine in Criticsland

Tarjei Straume wrote:

[Special notice: Permission to forward this post to other lists is hereby strongly discouraged by the author. Please keep in mind the strategy of general Molkte: "Take a defensive position that is so aggressive that the enemy must come to you on your conditions." If you post this on other lists, they won't have to come here to read it, and when surfers search for this text of mine, the search engines bring them to enemy websites. For this reason, all my texts will stay on anthro-territory.]

<snip>

This is where I wish to edit what I wrote, inspired by Bradford's keen interest in the old Rolling Stones song, "Sympathy for the Devil":

But then comes Christine, another loose cannon
whose forwarded warnings are never abandoned -
She flies through the air like a fireball
and crashlands full blast in the Dovre-trolls' Hall.

Pleased to meet you, says Deedee, You do know my name -
Getting anthro's in here is my specialty game.
Say hello to my cronies; they've followed your scent
Let them punch you around if you're still anthro-bent.

I was around in the formative years
when St. Rudy dared not yet speak
and I made sure that his science peers
labelled him as a freak.

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game

I stuck around in Dornach
When I saw it was a time for a blaze
Made sure it gave Rudy a fatal blow
when he saw all that work was in vain.

I rode a tank
Held a general’s rank
When the blitzkrieg raged
And the bodies stank

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah
Ah, what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah

I watched with glee
While Ita and Marie
Fought for several decades

For the gods they made
I shouted out,
Who called them Nazis?
When after all
It was you and me

Let me please introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste

And I laid traps for Waldorf schools
Who get closed before they reached bombay

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby

As Deedee finished his welcome song,
he offered Christine something strong -
Some stew made of roaches, a huge roasted rodent,
and a shot of Troll Brandy that's awfully potent.

OK, now someone else has to take over - again.)

Tarjei

~~~~And while Chris sleeps off the Troll Brandy......

They can't get no....satisfaction, they can't get no satisfaction, and they try, and they try, and they try....

All night long they look for new quotes

but they just can't figure out

what the Doctor meant in his notes

so they stampede, spit and shout

It's a hard life for the critics

when the sun breaks through the clouds

light is thrown upon thei antics

the veil falls to show their snouts

But there are also other species

which must crawl under a rock

to create their mean sad thesis

to distort and spread the fog.

they can't get no... satisfaction....

Gix

http://uncletaz.com/

...................................................................................................................................

From: holderlin66
Date: Mon Feb 16, 2004 5:45 pm
Subject: Ask Alice

--- In anthroposophy_tomorrow@yahoogroups.com, golden3000997 wrote:

CHAPTER XII
Alice's Evidence

<snip>

`What do you know about this business?' the King said to Alice.

`Nothing,' said Alice.

`Nothing whatever?' persisted the King.

`Nothing whatever,' said Alice.

`That's very important,' the King said, turning to the jury. They were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit interrupted: `Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course,' he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.

`Unimportant, of course, I meant,' the King hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, `important--unimportant-- unimportant--important--' as if he were trying which word sounded best.

Some of the jury wrote it down `important,' and some `unimportant.' Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; `but it doesn't matter a bit,' she thought to herself.

At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his note-book, cackled out `Silence!' and read out from his book, `Rule Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.'

Everybody looked at Alice.

`I'm not a mile high,' said Alice.

`You are,' said the King.

`Nearly two miles high,' added the Queen.

`Well, I shan't go, at any rate,' said Alice: `besides, that's not a regular rule: you invented it just now.'

Bradford comments;

There is a point to this Ask Alice, when she's Ten Feet Tall paradigm. First the selfish character of knowledge, must be retranslated into the unselfish STREAM of intelligence. Objective insights from how the Michael School is STREAMING INTELLIGENCE often takes a little while to see how intuitions arise and fall in the background of human consciousness.

We develop, like photographers in a darkroom, thoughts and intuitions that use the three day and sleep rhythm process before we experience how Michael answers in the minds and hearts of others, what we saw and developed in our own intuitions. Selfishness in the process sometimes wants instant fast food verification at the drive in window, as if true thinking and thought digestion is a drive through window of fast intellectual small change exchange. It certainly is not for those souls involved in the Michael School.

There is a great deal of selfishness in our connection to our research. But, for my part, I enjoy collaborating with the World Idea and the World Thought. It is wonderful to see what strangers are thinking. Suddenly, from the wide world, they don't appear so strange.

Certainly the Stream of Intelligence that lives between the sleeping and waking intelligence of the breathing process of Michael and the Starry world, as day turns to night and back to day again, carries the tide of global consciousness with it. The Dead, if we are true, also would have something to say about the wonderful pictures, the collaboration of the picture with already established writers who had faithfully left their trails for us to review and relift into perspectives that unfold even more deeply than they suspected at the time. I will give you an example or two.

Such novel insights in Goethe's "Green Snake and Beautiful Lily" or "The Blue Flower" by Novalis, a tale of Henrich von Ofterdingen as well as the current rich terrain of "Lord of the Rings" reveals Michael School kernels that have been secreted under the skirts and kilts of such ilk as George McDonald and Goethe. Here Imagination and cool intellect managed to dance together and in that dance the Spiritual world glistened through in buried kernels. So here I produce, out of the hat, a hat trick that has to do with actual Watching the Horizon all along the Watchtower and connecting unselfish imaginations ideas with real unselfish flowing insights.

Please remember dear readers; America currently represents much more than a Fairy Tale threat, we are engaged in debunking the entangled and deeply rooted Ahrimanic crisis we are in, and Spiritual Science is much more than the window opened through the tiny, lost in translation text of "The Green Snake and Beautiful Lily". Just ask Alice, when She's Ten feet Tall.

President Bush: Six impossible things, all before breakfast
By DON WILLIAMS
February 13, 2004

About half of all Americans still embrace the many surreal policies of Bush/ Cheney, and a recent morning - as this is written - it occurred to me how they do it. Like the queen in "Alice in Wonderland," they've perfected the art of believing six impossible things before breakfast. To refresh your memory of the Lewis Carroll classic, here's an excerpt:

"Alice laughed, 'There's no use trying,' she said, 'one can't believe impossible things.' 'I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. 'When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.' "

I decided to give it a try. Here they are, six impossible things before breakfast.

Saddam Hussein is/was the most dangerous man on earth since Hitler. It's impossible to believe, given new revelations that Pakistan's most famous scientist, Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan, not only gave Pakistan the bomb but supplied nuclear technology to North Korea, Libya, Iran and others.

Yet there's been hardly a peep from Bush against Pakistan's national hero, even as Khan's boss, Gen. Pervez Musharraf, publicly pardoned him. Thanks to Khan, several nations now have nukes. Still, read our leaders' lips, and it's possible to believe Saddam, not Khan, was the world's most dangerous man.

Pakistan and Saudi Arabia are our friends. It's possible to believe if you close your ears to reports that we allowed Pakistan to airlift hundreds of radical Pakistanis out of Afghanistan as the Northern Alliance closed in on Taliban forces near the Pakistani border in 2002. While you're at it, pretend that neither Pakistan nor Saudi Arabia have been complicit in spreading anti-American propaganda.

Big media makes it easy to ignore pesky stories that we flew a couple of hundred Saudis out of the United States on 9-12, just as the media has mostly failed to investigate reports that Bush's father was speaking to Saudi businessmen, including a brother of Osama bin Laden, on 9-11 when airliners struck those towers.

Lesson: To believe the impossible, turn away from disturbing reports.

Just shut your eyes, take a deep breath and you can believe the following run-on sentence: Dick Cheney had only the national interest at heart when, as secretary of defense under Bush's father, he set up a system of awarding Army contracts to Halliburton and others, then left government and became CEO of Halliburton, which located subsidiaries off-shore in order to profit from rebuilding rogue nations like Iraq and Iran while avoiding U.S. taxes; then Cheney became vice president, banged the drum for another war against Iraq, gave Halliburton the Army supply contracts while he received deferred salary and company stock.

Now exhale, while telling yourself, "No conflict of interest there, not even the appearance of such."

It's possible to believe this administration isn't selling out the public interest if you ignore Cheney's closed-door meetings with lobbyists for Enron and other companies while writing official energy policy. If you believe the way to beat terror is to hand tax dollars to giant energy corporations.

If you believe nuclear contractors should write their own safety regulations. If you believe the government shouldn't use collective bargaining to hold down prescription drug prices and that half- trillion-dollar deficits and lower taxes for the rich is the way to go, why then it's easy to believe no one's selling out the public interest.

It's possible to believe Bush is good for the environment by telling yourself: It's OK to blow the tops off mountains and dump them in Appalachian streams to get at the coal. Fewer rivers should be protected under the Clean Water Act. Depleted uranium should be made into artillery shells and used in Iraq and elsewhere. We should be immune from arms treaties and nuclear regulations. Global warming isn't worth mentioning.

Our president's military record is hunky-dory for a man busy sending others to kill and die if you forget that the National Guard was a place people went to avoid Vietnam in the 1960s and if you take it seriously when people say you're being critical of guardsmen now in Iraq if you bring up Bush's record in the Air National Guard back then. And if it's perfectly feasible that none of Bush's commanders would remember his reporting for duty or taking certain required flight exams.

If all this makes sense, then you're on safe ground in admiring the flight suit he wore when landing on the aircraft carrier at San Diego. Heck, it's even possible to believe he flew that plane.

See? Six impossible things before breakfast."

...................................................................................................................................

From: golden3000997
Date: Mon Feb 16, 2004 6:10 pm
Subject: Re: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Ask Alice

Way to Go Bradford!

I have been so busy with "...it takes all the running you can do to stay in the same place..." I had completely forgotten about "...six impossible things before breakfast."

Sigh There's still so much to learn!

Yeah! Go Alice!

...................................................................................................................................

From: holderlin66
Date: Mon Feb 16, 2004 7:49 pm
Subject: Re: Ask Alice/Clavier notes

--- In anthroposophy_tomorrow@yahoogroups.com, golden3000997 wrote:

I have been so busy with "...it takes all the running you can do to stay in the same place..." I had completely forgotten about "...six impossible things before breakfast."

Sigh There's still so much to learn!

Yeah! Go Alice!"

Bradford hugs Alice;

Lets see through the looking glass.

R.S.

March 4, 1909

"In the choleric, the ego and the blood system predominate. Cholerics come across as people who must always have their own way. Their aggressiveness, everything connected with their forcefulness of will, derives from their blood circulation.

(snip)

"The varying combinations of the four members also manifest themselves quite clearly in external appearance. People in whom the ego predominates seek to triumph over all obstacles, to make their presence known. Accordingly their ego stunts the growth of the other members; it witholds from the astral and etheric bodies their due portion. This reveals itself outwardly in a very clear fashion. Johann Gottlieb Fichte, that famous German Choleric, was recognizable as such purely externally. His build revealed clearly that the lower essential members had been held back in their growth. Napoleon, another classic example of choleric, was so short because his ego had held the other members back. Of course, one cannot generalize that all cholerics are short and all sanguines tall. It is a question of proportion..."

Bradford asks Bach:

I have been accused of being Choleric. I was Choleric. However my "Well-Tempered Clavier" understood my melancholic side, my home body phlegmatic side and my massive gemini moon, Virgo Sun mercurial and sanguine side. It was my Mars in Leo that drove me towards fiery confrontation and my Cancer rising and Virgo sun that calmed me.

All four temperaments are in everyone of us. Some dominated by Water, Some Fire, Some Air and some Earth...you have to be a Goethean observer to see just how the gods put together the mixing of the Spirit kernel with the hereditary stream. You can SEE it when you SEE the human being before you and begin putting together the pieces of the puzzle. Luckily the puzzle takes time. It takes brotherhood and interest. I am no prophet of selflessness, in fact I guard my precious privacy in very peculiar ways.

How do Rising-Sun-Moon and the shifting daily terrain square with the size of the various constellations? That would indicate that from grounded Capricorn Sun we booted ourselves into Aquarius Air Sun, this also can be seen in the movement of stirring forces either in a classroom or in the bing-bang-boom of everyone jarring together on the Internet. Stope shaking the Seltzer bottle, be careful with that axe handle Jethro!

Frank Smith obviously has dealt with this 'Sophia' babette before. And any enuch will tell you that dicklessness gives the vertical a chance to germinate. God knows horizontal fun and games, (I have the photos from Frank's computer which I hacked) showing Sophia in all her starry nakedness. On the photo was the signature, a pictograph really, that said, "Sophia you are NUT" and let me tell the position she was in, made starry romance pale and bedroom antics pale. It kind of reminded me of the normal artwork that graces the Frank Jo site. NUT was Naked as Hippie on bicycle.

Now the final aspect of this rough contemplation is very much to do with the Sanguine shiftiness of Michael School souls who unsubscribe at the drop of a Hatters Hat. Dottie and I have seen this all before with various tantrums.. I can't speak for JoAnn for she is the one who throws most of the tantrums... I mean that passively aggressively. And JoAnn knows exactly that I am full of Shishkabobs!

One thing about Passive Aggressive behavior is how the double 'GG' sound adds something to the Snake hissing sounds. What I like is very radical manifestations with a Well-Tempered Clavier. That means that self-knowledge slowly grows, we hope, like the skill of a Well-Tempered Clavier. A piano that can contain passion, Clare De Lune, the beautiful Cancerian thingy or pounding Choleric Beethoven.. Sweet Bach or wild and entrancing Mozart. A Well-Tempered Clavier is something that is indicated in the catalogue of KOHW. How to Attain a Well-Tempered Clavier or; HAWTC. You can oder it from the warehouse, however it may take a half a lifetime to ship, ask Frank.

So unsubscribing out of honor, out of insult, out of lack of comprehension and misunderstanding means that the piano tuner has been away from your Clavier for sometime. Mind you, my choleric need to be top dog has slunk behind the rich melancholic nature of depth, Love and tragedy. That a Michael School List sometimes fails to understand itself let alone others, sets a very strange example. No, as anyone knows, I never require perfection. No Waldorf Teacher will ever require perfection, but the real thingy that the person is, is a real jumble of metabolism, nerves and blood circulation is also a real spiritual revelation. You have no idea how wonderfully Goethean and Greek this revelation of the moving human being is, the speaking human being is, until you have raised the observation to the level of wonder.

I am not in the business of meeting everyone without first having destiny knock. But I have met Harvey because my own Father and sister had disappeared into the wilds Arizona. I met Harvey, took the time to meet Harvey in the wilds of Arizona. I took to the time to meet Tom Mellett in the wilds of TN; and took the time, destiny offered to meet one of the finest little anthros in the wilds of New Orleans Bobby Matherene.

Love and opinion has a chance to form from a distance. I have a general brotherly and sisterly love for those who have heroically remained stunned by Spiritual Science. I call these and many others friend and sister as my companions. Don't let our mere temperaments get in the way of the bold ideals we live with. We are nor required to set an example, we are not Initiates. We are required to appreciate our journey and worlds journey towards self knowledge.

Bradford

...................................................................................................................................

From: Frank Thomas Smith
Date: Tue Feb 17, 2004 1:44 pm
Subject: RE: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Re: Ask Alice/Clavier notes

Frank Smith obviously has dealt with this 'Sophia' babette before. And any enuch will tell you that dicklessness gives the vertical a chance to germinate. God knows horizontal fun and games, (I have the photos from Frank's computer which I hacked) showing Sophia in all her starry nakedness. On the photo was the signature, a pictograph really, that said, "Sophia you are NUT" and let me tell the position she was in, made starry romance pale and bedroom antics pale. It kind of reminded me of the normal artwork that graces the Frank Jo site. NUT was Naked as Hippie on bicycle.

Bradford, I hope you don't have hair growing from the palms of your hands.

...................................................................................................................................

From: holderlin66
Date: Wed Feb 18, 2004 9:51 am
Subject: Re: Ask Alice/Clavier notes

--- In anthroposophy_tomorrow@yahoogroups.com, Frank Thomas Smith wrote:

Bradford, I hope you don't have hair growing from the palms of your hands.

http://www.biseinen.com/sc/manga/br/br02.html

...................................................................................................................................

From: holderlin66
Date: Wed Feb 18, 2004 11:17 am
Subject: Ask Alice/ Michael School contemplation

--- In anthroposophy_tomorrow@yahoogroups.com, holderlin66 wrote:

Here Imagination and cool intellect managed to dance together and in that dance the Spiritual world glistened through in buried kernels. So here I produce, out of the hat, a hat trick that has to do with actual Watching the Horizon all along the Watchtower and connecting unselfish imaginations ideas with real unselfish flowing insights.

Note Fishing in the Stream of Michael Intelligence:

"It was all so neat. And now is seems to have gone wrong. Who can say what it was that started the unraveling? But it does indeed seem to be unraveling. Perhaps we'll (they'll) find someone to pull a rabbit out of a hat. What this country needs is a few good magicians and a good five-cent cigar."

http://www.lewrockwell.com/white/white48.html

"A Crazy Blueprint for a Crazy Time
by Tom White

"I struggle against wishful thinking, but it is hard, hard. There are so many wonderful signs that this evil administration is on the edge of deconstruction (you see how one has learned to fling the word "evil" about) that hope and happiness leap up, despite all one can do to keep them down. Oh, merciful Lord, may it be that D.C. shall be cleansed as Hercules once cleansed those stables.

One wants the utter rout of these wretched human beings who send young citizens off to mad wars telling them they are to "end evil in the world." The assumption has to be that these young people are stone ignorant of even the most rudimentary classical and Christian psychology, which has always recognized that there are two in each of us, one good, bright, honest, true; the other, "the deceitful man," wicked, selfish, crafty, lying. The line between the two, as Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn wrote, goes right down the middle of each human heart. And we have each to decide, over and over again, for the right thing, if, with God's help, we can.

I find myself in a mood to take stock as we wait to see the denouement of the various investigations, commissions, inquiries, and continuing new revelations. Will it be a release from this ghastly thralldom the nation has entered – a war state, a police state, a detested rogue state – or will it be a vindication for these architects of ruin."

Bradford comments;

Debunking the Ahrimanic Imperialism of the Neocon West requires both "Alice" and Goethe. Goethe would say, 'alas two souls reside within my breast'. Steiner would add that at least three souls reside within our breast. Potential Christ-active Lucifer and active Ahriman. Solzhenitsyn, Milton, Goethe, Lytton were giving us curious and wonderful paradigms to dislodge and shake out the Ahrimanic in us. It's shook out alright.

The wonderful complexity of how the Sentient Soul is a measure, no less invisible than the temperaments, which can easily be observed by watching the reactions to Janet Jackson and the U.S. Superbowel is obvious to most. But further complexities that reach into time dating the entrance of ahrimanic forces into the Intellectual Soul, gives us both Sade and his dialogue with "A Priest and a Dying Man" or "The Grand Inquisitor" and the Bacon vs Shakespeare time line that awakened science into an Intellectual Soul confrontation with the wonders of Technolgy and the deep coolness verging on cold fusion of the intellect.

Stopping for a moment in the Intellectual Soul we understand that after the Michael Battle of exiling the Ahrimanic into the heads of humanity and lodging them as well in the "Will to Power", around 1879 Edison, Light Bulbs and film begin to carve a path towards the 'Matrix' of fallen Light, magnetism and electricity. Niccolò Machiavelli (1469-1527) awards us insights into the historical symptomology that Steiner indicated as enhanced encroachment of Ahrimanic thinking into a history of Political intrigue and catastrophe.

We can choose Death in our Intellects over the Etheric Christ but we must struggle with Pauline Schizophrenia and rabid denial. Nothing in either the Bible or current Science Myth or Steiner allows us to squirm off the hook of this choice. Having researched the 10,000 odd case examples of Near Death Experience, we understand that the Life Tableau is a real experience. But Kant drew a line in the sand of what we and medical science wish to consider as 'REAL' and or brain chemistry.

We sweep back to Goethean Science and understand the metamorphosis of leaf unfoldment, and seed, stem, leaf, blossom and move to four part divisions, 4 1/2 divisions of mineral-plant-(insect) animal and human and begin retraining our faulty, subjective broken Rainbow Bridge of thinking, to see. We see Sentient Soul levels of perception, Intellectual Soul ranges of perception and Consciousness Soul layers of perception. The invisible becomes part of the natural capacity that humans have as a reality of Consciousness. Or Not!

We can look at the Ahrimanic Prophets and compare them to Christian Prophets. We can say clearly that Nietzsche was a sort of John the Baptist figure for Ahriman. Make Way for the New Zarathustrian paradigm is at hand. Change your thinking to Cloning and the Superman. Even if those who played Superman usually have suffered horrible accidents and death. This radically differs from the paradigm of Jesus bearing both Zarathustra-Nazara and also bringing in both Krishna and Buddha into the mix.

We can see how the Pauline experience is countered by the Pauline prophet of Ahriman, Oppenheimer. Plus we have the added value of seeing how Stephen Hawking and Newton both get to sit in the chair of Science while Steiner gets a dunce hat and must sit in the corner. Even if Newton really had a profound christian track running through his veins. But Steiner must sit in the corner and suck his thumb. He was a bad boy. Like many today, he told the Truth! Not very comfortable truth, but vision of the Truth from the aspect of the Spirit Self.

The power and god of Fallen Light can be very clearly traced back to Manichean doctrines of at least seven different aspects of light. One of the lower rungs of Light is secreted in matter. In this Light, Ahriman opened his new church of Dr. Strangelove. Now we see Dr. Strangelove was incarnated again in Pakistan as the hero of Pakistan's bomb. We truly can understand the classic experience of the military industrial complex and Stanley Kurbrick's Dr. Stangelove. It's all a matter of bodily fluids... etheric juices. I'm sure most of you might miss this reference.

Light burst forth and along with it the Church of Fear. Here we see the 33rd President of the U.S. Truman give us the fabled number 33, (33rd President) that brings us back to the Prophecy of 1933 and the Etheric Christ. These 33's and the 33 notches of the spine and 33 year old Jefferson all tell us an invisible tale about the New Key note number of 33. Search our hearts as we may, we cannot fathom how such potent force can be attached to a number.

We have no proof. We have immortality and we have growing ourselves into higher vision. Steiner towers above Jung, but we had to live through Freud for the Sentient Soul - Jung for the Intellectual and Consciousness Soul- Joseph Campbell and towering with a vast number of souls, Steiner brought forth his mission as Spirit Self, the mature plateau. But Steiner was a bad boy, he should not be counted. He should stay after school and write 33 X's 1000 33 on the blackboard, "I will not mislead and bring false hope and hallucinations into Ahriman's realm." Those who we tend to worship, like Lazarus John... make great copy for Science Fiction. They must be discounted along with Steiner for no future mature prophets are allowed to speak from the higher developments of future soul conditions. After all Steiner didn't know what he was talking about and was a rabid -------.

Now we are in the Consciousness Soul. These complex regions where 'alas two souls reside within my breast' have been widened out to vistas and scaffoldings of the entire human potential on up to the Seraphim. Almost any one of us here could outline the 12 to 13 layers of Being, where man is placed at the 10th level of the graduating classes with animal, plant, (insect) and mineral pulling up our rears. But what we get is the clinically absurd and spoiled, we don't like Dr. Steiner.

PLANS is filing lawsuits against school districts that have Waldorf programs or charter schools. Our lawyers are contributing generously, but there are many expenses. Please join us and contribute as much as you can.

Member: $15 or more
Patron: $100 or more
Angel: $1000 or more

Our first newsletter will be out soon. PLANS is a California 501(c) (3) charitable non-profit corporation. Please make checks payable to PLANS, Inc., and mail to:

PLANS
c/o Dan Dugan, Secretary
290 Napoleon St. Studio E
San Francisco, CA 94124-1017

Thank you for your support!

Dear Dan,
I hope you get more donations than President Clinton's Legal Defense Fund, but I'm curious. If I were to donate $1,000, you would declare me an "Angel." But in the Steiner/Waldorf panoply of angelology, there are 9 distinct hierarchies of angels. So which one of the 9 would I be? (And would I get a T-shirt or coffee mug with a picture of that angel?) And as long as we're on the subject of angels, perhaps I could aid you in marketing strategy. There is a big gap between $100 for a Patron and $1,000 for an Angel, so may I suggest a correlation between the 9 hierarchies of angels and 9 hierarchical amounts that people can donate. I'll bet you'd get a lot more money this way!

Angel $250
Archangel $500
Archai $750

Exousiai $1,000
Dynameis $1,250
Kyriotetes $1,500

Throne $1,750
Cherub $2,000
Seraph $2,500

God: $3,000 and above

Tom.

(of the hierarchy known as "mortal human being," sometimes referred to by Rudolf Steiner as the "10th Hierarchy.")

Dear Dan,
I hope you get more donations than President Clinton's Legal Defense Fund, but I'm curious. If I were to donate $1,000, you would declare me an "Angel." But in the Steiner/Waldorf panoply of angelology, there are 9 distinct hierarchies of angels. So which one of the 9 would I be? (And would I get a T-shirt or coffee mug with a picture of that angel?)

If you donate $1,000., Tom, you could choose which Angel you wish to be. For a $1,000, you may even get a bumper sticker that reads: (Dumb joke alert)

Old Waldorf teachers never die - they just reincarnate.

I agree with you, Tom. There is too much of a jump between $100 and $1000.
Deby

"Aristotle was famous for knowing everything. He taught that the brain exists merely to cool the blood and is not involved in the process of thinking. This is true only of certain persons."

Will Cuppy (The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody)

Bradford concludes;

'Fair and Balanced' news or stunning insights into human history and the revelation of Humanity is in pitched battle in the Intellectual/Consciousness Soul border and trench warfare that is much more akin to the trench warfare of WWI. Dislodging the Ahrimanic grip on the Intellectual Soul when the Sentient Soul is poisoned, immature and disenfrancised, allows us to confront time and time again from the 20th to the now 21st century, pitched battle with Ahrimanic Death forces in the Intellect. Ahriman is a COOL OPERATOR.

It certainly is not bad to have these death forces in the intellect, it wakes up the individual heart and forces us to feel the pain. Very few souls have attempted to look as far back to matter and the human spirit as TAO and TAOTL. Very few have strode forward through history to reveal in prophetic facts, fully founded prophetic facts, that in 1933 the Etheric Christ would rise and the Industrial corporate supported efficiency of ethnic cleaning, smoke belching furnaces resembling the wonders of the Industrial age..would 'let the dogs hidden in human brains-OUT'. So the question you have to ask yourself is who let the dogs OUT?

Bradford

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