All my Whats are Fucked

The "Logo Transfer Hypothesis" has it that a biohazard warning sign fucked a mandala, and from that unnatural coupling was born the various spirograph logos of Sacha Stone's portfolio of all-lower-case Childhood's-End start-ups like humanitad and immortalis and new earth nation and bio arc.



It should not be confused with Williamson's "Larval Transfer Hypothesis", in which an earwig fucked a velvet worm (or possibly vice versa), in an implausible cross-phylum forbidden romance that was the origin of caterpillars, i.e. the porno version of a Just-So story. But I digress!

It may be that you have forgotten Simon "Sacha" Stone. He is what happens when Philip Dick's Gnostic Exegesis attains sentience, and decides that its best career path lay in far-right white-separatist politics dressed up in rave-party culture.* Here the particular Stone start-up of interest is the ITNJ... not a Myers-Briggs personality type (though personality types do come into it), but rather the International Tribunal of Natural Justice. Which is an agency transcending national boundaries and legalistic "law code" pettifoggery in the course of restorative justice, with a naff biohazard-sign-fucked-a-mandala logo... or, depending on your perspective, a cohort of grifters who pass around the crowd-source collection plate to finance their penchant for judicial- and episcopal-gown cosplay.**

Worst Hallowe'en "Sexy Jurist" costume EVAH

The underlying ITNJ narrative is "Masked gunman Sovereign-Citizen Lawman rides into town to right wrongs when local sheriffs are in cahoots with the criminals" -- Cahoots being the name of the ridden-into town -- although that storyline is embedded in a sepia cloud of New Age word-wooze. The business model is to solicit donations for the hire of a cheap venue for a 'hearing' or 'inquiry' into some crime against Oh the Humanity; invite various ranters to deliver various testimony-shaped artistic performances that they have previously rehearsed on Youtuber channels; and promise to provide a curated collection of their monologues, Real Soon Now.



In this case the cheap-venue part is "Westminister Hall"... not part of London's Parliamentary Palace as the name might imply, but instead a room that seats several dozen in the nearby Methodist Central building. The issue inspiring the Hearing is "Human Trafficking and Child Sex Abuse". Which is to say, the International Tribunal has become part of the accretion disk of delusions and donation buttons, swirling around the Hampstead Satanic Abuse hoax, drawn there by the irresistible force of Grifter Gravity.***

A lot has already been written about the Chief Justice of the ITNJ, Sir John Walsh of Branagh... an Australian deadbeat, conman and fabulist, whose knighthood and juristic status are both self-bestowed, just part of a lovingly-curated exhibition of hand-crafted artisanal titles and qualifications. I will accept that immodesty and grandiosity in the composition of one's CV are not prerequisites to work with the ITNJ, but too great a concern for plausibility is certainly a deal-breaker, for here is another of their leading lights, Ambassodor James Gilmore a.k.a. Ponzi the Clown:

Gilmore’s profession from the 1990s was based in both finance and economics. He has worked with clients of varying definitions to include Royalty, politicians, MI5, MI6, Mossad, and the CIA. He was granted a Top Secret clearance by the U.S. Army in his position as deputy head of M-3 (intelligence) of the world’s first Atomic Artillery organization.

Your Riddled reporters have nothing new to add about Mr Walsh, and Gilmore is an ex-parrot. So instead, meet Robert David Steele, ITNJ "Chief Counsel of Commission on Pedophilia" who models his personal appearance on a Magritte painting... he is also

Chief Enabling Officer (CeO) of Earth Intelligence Network; recommended for the Nobel Peace Prize. Former Operations Officer (C/O) in the Clandestine Service of the Central Intelligence Agency, co-founder of the Marine Corps Intelligence Activity, founder of the modern Open Source Intelligence (OSINT) discipline, proponent for election reform, intelligence reform, governance reform and economic reform utilizing Open Source Everything Engineering (OSEE).

Not Steele

But wait, there's more! for Mr Steele is also an expert speaker on The Truth about Pet Cancer, and Special Rapporteur for human-rights abuses on Mars. In particular, the widespread abductions of children to serve as sex-slaves and ultimately as bone-marrow donors to the Mars-colony paedophile vampires. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. He sounds nice.

In a previous incarnation in the 1400s, Mr Steele was more concerned about the Jews abducting Christian children and draining their blood to bake in the ritual bread.

Now the grifter eco-system is all about the Competition and the Evolution. If an appeal proves to tug on purse-strings and loosen the heart-strings, or even vice versa, then it is adopted as a permanent piece in the repertoire; otherwise it is set aside and not repeated. The process of selection is one of algorithmic refinement, like the evolution of clickbait Youtubra channels for kids, or akin to the way the constituency of a political demogogue can train him to hoot obsessively if not coherently on their favourite topics, by cheering in response to dog-whistles at the chosen frequency.

So I am going out onna limb here to speculate that the target of ITNJ investigation was not picked capriciously or by throwing darts at the newspapers, but rather has been finely honed to appeal to the suckers (there may even have been focus groups involved!). It follows that what the suckers want to hear about most are the powerful networks of child-trafficking sexploitation vampires who constitute the Deep State. Over at Hoaxtead Research, El Coyote notes a consistent theme among the images provided by ITNJ for sharing through social networks:

Here’s the real meat of the ITNJ web page: a lovely array of children in various states of bondage, guaranteed to appeal to donors who are excited by such thoughts

There is a lot of this stuff in the fever dream of paranoid-style Truther rightwing politics [but I repeat myself]. If it's not child-sex prostitution running out of the non-existent basement of a pizza parlour, and the abduction of whole generations of children by White Slavers from Mars, it's the claim that the body of a no-longer-on-life-support child was snatched by the hospital for organ harvesting (in a case co-opted as a cause célèbre by theocratic garbage people). OR WORSE!

Not enormously relevant, but vampires!

There is the "Storm" fanfic --

Those who believe in the theory allege that cabals of high-ranking Democrats run child sex rings attended by celebrities, which Trump is breaking up.
QAnon refers to a user of internet messaging board 4Chan, who claims to be a White House official with secret knowledge of the investigation into the sex trafficking ring.
“QAnon believers are convinced that the world is run by a nefarious deep state cabal of Democrats, celebrities, and intelligence community figures (many of whom, they claim, are pedophiles),” writes blogger Will Sommer, who monitors right-wing media, on Mediate.
“Trump is about to take them all down, in their telling, often with sealed indictments that are hidden from the public. Hence Barr’s tweets about massive pedophile networks.”

One corollary of this narrative seems to be that the attention given to Trump's record of sexual harassment and payments to pr0n stars is misguided, since hey, look at his undeclared war against human trafficking! It is like a remake of 'Night of the Generals', with General Tanz as the hero. Of course the Great Unsealing of Indictments has been promised since late 2017, and still hasn't happened, but that is unlikely to cause doubt within the epistemic bubble, since maybe it did happen but the satanist-run media kept the events out of the news.

So the button chosen by Sacha Stone and the ITNJ is very hot indeed. The inside of many US voters' heads are like Goya witch-sabbath scenes, permanently stuck in 1799. There is clearly a deep-rooted weakness in the human psyche that makes these concerns lucrative to the grifters and appealing to the griftees, and when we look at the historical precedents

[H/t El Coyote @ Hoaxtead Research]

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* Delusional Sovereign-Citizen fraudster and money-launderer, Heather Tucci-Jarraf, at right.

Ratifications!

** The dress-up stage-trials are a departure for the Tribunal from its original goal of selling its services as a source of binding Judgments. The closed case of National Child Protection Alliance (‘NCPA’) v Commonwealth of Australia [Case 2015-02-NCPA] involved a genuine but misled Australian child-protection agency. The NCPA belatedly realised that for all its Proclamations and Ratifications and Mandates, and for all the torrent of bafflegab pomposity from Chief Justice Sir Mr Walsh, the Tribunal had no more legal legitimacy than the Society for Creative Anachronism, and that the moneys they had paid to change Australian law was gone beyond all hope of recovery.

The case of Unified Common Law Grand Jury of Southern Africa (‘UZA’) v Constitutional Court of South Africa [Case 2015-01-UZA] is still open. Here the appellants ("Unified Common Law Grand Jury of Southern Africa") were a bunch of Sovereign Citizen bumblefucks who want to say the magic words that will dissolve the nominal government of South Africa, but even they eventually came to terms with their position in the host / parasite relationship.

After that, the Tribunal's Trustees announced that no further cases would be taken on, freeing the Justices to spend their time and deliberations more profitably.

*** One early adopter of the Hampstead Satanic Abuse hoax was Alfred Lautreamont Lambremont Webre, a Cray-cray careerist, and expert on the Tesla technology of travel in time and between planets. Webre interviewed the hoax's instigators about the mechanics of the scam (much as a magpie interviews a collection of shiny and potentially-acquirable objects with an eye to the adornment of its own nest), giving them the run of his Youtuba channel to recount the lurid sexual / cannibalistic fantasies that they had taught to two children. I mention Webre here, singled out from all the other Full Mental Jackets drawn into the Hampstead accretion disk, because he has previously featured at Riddled (though here he is left on the cutting-room floor among the out-takes, no room in the main post!).

Webre used to provide his Seattle audience with insights into the maneuvering of alien factions and power blocs, learned though his high-level security access to all the Double-Secret-Probation details of galactic politics. These dispatches -- published as contributions to the Seattle Examiner -- were unfailingly dramatic and intense, though each seismic shift in the interstellar balance of power left Earth's tenuous neutrality preserved, amid sighs of relief. This media outlet seems to have entered abeyance, but fortunately Webre's bulletins are still available in the Wayback cache.

ET Council: War with grey-Draco reptilian ETs is won, no false flag ET invasion
My 1970s meeting with DARPA's Project Pegasus secret time travel program
Andromeda Council: East China Sea 6.9 quake - undersea reptilian base destroyed

It goes without saying that Webre's expertise extends to Mars colonies, but he is not on record as contradicting Steele's dystopian account of conditions there. Professional courtesy is still observed among the spiritual heirs of Hélène Smith.

For external use only.Avoid contact with eyes

The more you look at the self-promotive career of Dottori Gatti and Monanari, the stranger it looks; it is a fractal rabbit-hole made of smaller rabbit-holes. Like looking at your hand, I mean, have you ever really looked at it?

A discovery from which they derive great pride -- for it recurs frequently in their oeuvre (if nowhere else) -- is "Burning semen disease". This is

a) The name for my William Burroughs tribute band.
b). The worst super-power EVAH. I am imagining a graphic novel based on this premise so you don't have to.
c). James Havoc's next book.

Right: via John Coulthart @feuilleton
 

Evidently nanoparticles are such a virulent contaminant that not only are they biopersistent, but the male body expels them with sperm, exposing sexual partners and adjacent bystanders to the scourge. This is good news, for it means that nanoparticulate exposure can be CURED by repeated masturbation until they are all purged from the system. But Gatti and Montanari are Cowper-gland-glass-half-empty people and they focus on the need for condoms in the interim; this is not just an individual tragedy -- the sanctity of the family unit is at risk!




Fortunately baby-making is still possible by filtering out the nanoparticles from the incendiary secretions and leaving only the spermatozoa.




It is not recorded whether women can similarly exude toxic secretions as a method of ridding their bodies of nanopollution. Perhaps it is a male-only feature.



"Contaminated Spouse" is now the name of my 'Nurse with Wound' tribute band.

 Thx Mauro Toffanin at Ocasapiens

Bohemian Rhapsody, part III

In this installment our hero encounters the horrors of English cuisine, and seeks employment in the service sector. Soon to be a block-buster production from the Riddled Amateur Dramatic Society!

If Jan Váňa were updating his Nový Kapesní Slovník for contemporary conditions he would include a translation do češtiny of "Feckin Eastern Euros comin here and stealin ah jobs".

I have a noble cause for skin, there's just too many of them

Another Kiwi refuses to believe that the New World Order plans for most of us to die and be made into leather [for dancing in]. I deploy argument after argument; I point out the Georgia Guidestones on which the Double-Redacted-Secret Agenda is graven in granite for all to read; but he will not let himself be suede.
Winnowing the human population down to a sustainable level requires not only ruthlessness and stern measures, and total control of the food supply, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope. These are necessary but not sufficient conditions. The Great Culling (® Rima Laibow) also calls upon the tireless efforts of a cadre of statisticians and actuaries, to identify which occupational groups are over-represented in society and need to be culled next (through coincidental 'accidents' and 'incidents' and 'suicides') so as to maintain the optimal social balance even as the population dwindles.

So one day you might read about a wave of mysterious disappearance and deaths among Marconi engineers and scientists...

...Then it was the turn of climatologists...

...And now we evidently have more Alt-Med quacksalvers and holistic wallet-lightening therapists than society really needs. Oh hi there Erin Elizabeth, who broke this story after the New World Order murdered US autism grifter Jeff Bradstreet and disguised it as a suicide... followed quickly by chiroquacks dying of heart attacks despite their meticulous self-treatment , and disappearances, and the alleged murder of an osteopath by her husband. Clearly there was CIA mind-control programming involved, because why else would she marry a jealously violent wrestler? -- one whose murder program They could activate at any moment -- which means that her death was planned YEARS IN ADVANCE.

The most recent victim of the heart-attack hitsquad was a celebrated sweetbread-pill and coffee-enema enthusiast. Erin is rightfully concerned for her own safety and for that of her husband Joe Mercola -- who is himself a prominent figure in Alt-Med circles -- and no-one will be surprised were she to vanish unaccountably, along with most of his money.

Tomorrow, who knows, perhaps there will be more actuaries than a shrunken population still requires, and it will be Statistician's Day.

But wait, there's more!

Not everyone accepts my mundane "Members of an over-stocked occupation" account for these events. An alternative theory has it that these individuals KNEW TOO MUCH: whether chiroquacks or osteos or mainstream doctors, whether well-known or obscure, they had all become privy to crucial details of the Depopulation Agenda -- so their silence was necessary. And now I have learned the details myself, so the only way to keep myself safe is to pass them on to you readers and put you at risk instead... those are the rules in Japanese horror movies, it must be a charter or an old tradition or something.

And in the manner of vomit, and returning dogs, it all involves that protean protein GcMAF. If dogs cared about their reputation they would work out some form of mutual assistance so as to return to one another's vomit instead of their own. But I digress.

In early versions of the story, everyone was silenced because they had learned that GcMAF cures everything -- thereby threatening the fortunes of Big Pharma -- but further details have emerged with every re-telling around the camp-fire, and now we know that it's all about the vaccinations (it always is).

What the now-dead or missing alternative doctors apparently discovered was that Nagalase was intentionally being put in children’s vaccines in order to inhibit their natural immunity.

Nagalase blocks the body's own production of GcMAF, see, causing autism and cancer and chronic illness. And whence cometh this α-N-acetylgalactosaminidase? In conventional medical science it is a necessary enzyme for sugar metabolism, such that a deficiency causes neurological degeneration and early death; but in alternative equally-valid versions of reality it is not of human origin at all, and could only have been introduced into our bodies through injections (chemtrails are not fit for purpose).

Nagalase is like a stealth bomber, the nagalase enzyme synthesized in or released from cancer cells or a virus particle pinpoints the GcMAF protein facilities on the surface of your T and B lymphocytes and simply wipes them out with an incredibly precise bomb.
Dr. Bradstreet and his colleagues also learned that the nagalase protein was not present in children at birth but was somehow introduced into autistic children, they felt, during the immunization process.

Our ultimate source for these ventriloquistic insights into the thoughts of dead people is a "Dr" Ted Broers, who is (depending on your preferred reality) either a religious affinity scammer and the originator of "Scriptural Nutrition", or an "internationally recognized health and nutrition doctor". “Internationally recognized” could be a polite way of saying “Sought in a number of jurisdictions”.

EVEN nagalase laced vaccinations!
Ice cream, Mandrake! Children’s ice cream!

Post Christmas Toupée

"I do not think" said tigris "that the Almond trees have ever looked so Almondy, before".
"I have seen Almond trees in South Australia" I said.
"Really" said tigris, "did they look very Almondy?"
"It was at night and there was alcohol involved" I explained "The Hanged Man Basket Press Shiraz with added vitamins. I do not recall how Almondy the trees looked"
"You would have to have a base measurement of Almondish looking" interjected Smut Clyde " with points plotted on a curve so you could measure the intensity. In a twin study"
"I don't know what the incidence of twinship is in Almonds" I vouchsafed "Trees are all pretty much the same, aren't they"
"Yes" said tigris "A pine tree is just like a willow tree" 
"Except" said Smut "When it come to making cricket bats. A pine bat is useless, bits come off the side"
"Also" I explained with the experience of watching "The World's Most Dangerous Job" "It is full of knots, pine. You wouldn't know where the ball was going to go when you hit it" I paused to think "I wonder if we used pine knot bats at school?"
"Alan Knott" said tigris fresh from watching "A History of the English Speaking People and Australia" "Was a very good wicket keeper/ batsman for England"
"Not Derek Randall?" I asked
"No" said tigris "he played for Nottinghamshire, not Notts with Knott'
"Ah" I said "I'm glad that's sorted"
"Ah hah" said Smut "I know this one. Alan Knott was playing and had scored no runs and the commentator said "Knott's not out on nought". This caused people all over England to die from Hilarian Tremens"
We looked at him through a storm of raised eyebrows.
"I saw it on "English Humour: A guide for Foreigners" " he said. "23 bleeding episodes and I miss the one with Dame Margot Fonteyn and the banana skin."
"I think" I said turning over the top card of my Village Happy Families Cardgame "that if anyone could do the banana splits it would be her." I turned the card back down.
"That was Mr. Plod the Policeman" said Smut "he's goes in the top right corner with Esme Plod."
"Not today" I said "Esme has joined the Village Civil Liberties Council and there is tension between them."
"This is the Sims version?" asked Smut.
"It is the AK version" I said.
This caused a silence as we all remembered my attempts to introduce railways to Settlers of Cataan. A game that desperately needed modernising in my opinion.
Finally tigris said "The Christmas Ale turned out nice."
"Yes" said Smut "It has provided talking points for years to come"
"I expect that Space-Time-Eddie will come down from the roof  soon" said tigris.
"Mrs Miggins, should have better labelling on her raspberry buns" said Smut "Just saying "A magical experience awaits you" is not enough"
"It should say "Warning, may cause severe whatsit in transdimensional beings" " I said.
"Sittting on the roof and going "meep meep" kind of whatsit" added tigris.
 "Good reception on the TV while he's there" I noted.
"And it's time for "A History of New Zealand bee-keepers: Some of us didn't climb bleeding mountains" said Smut.

A Willow tree expressing displeasure about being turned into a cricket bat for Alan Knott

The Metadata of Dorian Gray

Intrusive surveillance of the entire population was easier back in the days when magnetic tapes and punched Baudot-code ribbons were the media of mass data-storage, and could be presented as endearing anthropomorphic mascots to reconcile everyone to being monitored and recorded. No doubt you remember the marketing campaigns with the cartoons and the jingles and all (That click on the phone It's your digital clone!).


Coming up with an anthropomorphic mascot for petabyte disk drives is a lot harder. Or so we hear from friends.

The penis thieves grow bolder by the day

ETERNAL VIGILANCE is the key. Even swimming in mid-ocean you are not safe.

"As long as you're feeling it
The witches aren't stealing it."

H/t Peacay at Bibliodyssey.

Calling to the shadows of monstersDigging in the sand for clam shells

It is always embarrassing when one of the wall-dwelling artificial life-forms from the Riddled Flatland breeding program escapes from the lab and starts predating the local birdlife, and then Gareth Morgan has sads and there are tears before bedtime.

To avoid a recurrence of such episodes we now focus our efforts on breeding two-dimensional elephants, floor-based ones, which are not going to go stalking and creeping up on anything. Greenish Hugh (with the broom) is standing on the result to prove that it is not simply an elephant-shaped hole produced by spilling an entire bottle of Hole Paint from the Portable Hole Factory [B. Bunny & R. Runner, 1958].
Ignore Greenish when he maintains that this is all that remains of a real elephant after a tragic trebuchet-related accident; also that the victim was a personal friend of his. He is just a griefer. Also he is leading up to a stolen Keats-&-Chapman joke about "scraping up an acquaintance".


In other news from the Riddled Research Laboratory, Another Kiwi reckons that he can teach an Alzabo to spell by feeding it on a diet of shaved ham printed with the alphabet. If that works he will teach it algorithms with the help of alcohol steeped in algebra. Personally I suspect that this is part of a plan to win back his driver's license, by sitting the next exam in the company of a seeing-eye dog on which he has written out the entire Road Code.


Space-Time Eddie denied any unauthorised "jiggerypokery" or "shenanigans" with the Time Machine. All seven copies of him denied any knowledge of the provenance of the other six copies, apart from the youngest copy, who pooped. Examination of the cradle revealed a concealed copy of Heinlein's "By His Bootstraps".

The Eddie one-man Hurley team proved to be completely shite players, their performance not improved by one of the younger member's insistence on riding his hurley club like a broom when he should have been whacking at the ball, not to mention the wardrobe malfunctions. However, the second youngest copy is showing a precocious interest in the molecular-modelling kit, so we are keeping him on the staff.