-Caveat Lector- http://www.operationjericho.com/national_times/columns/20000805.htm
August 5, 2000 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Boiling Frog By Gary dean benKeith of the House of Reeder The water is nice; in fact, it’s perfect. That’s the way it begins. And the frog is so content. If the water was hotter or colder, it would be less than perfect, but it’s just right. The frog feels like he is in heaven. The water rises one degree, but the frog is so caught up in his comfort zone, oh happy day, that one degree is not even noticed. Then it rises another degree, one tenth at a time, but the rise is timed with such precision that the difference is not even noticed. Oh happy day. The frog is all caught up in this happy day; oh what a happy day it is. The frog does not notice the gradual increase of one-tenth of a degree at a time. Oh happy day. The frog is a lot like you—if you’re not aware what is happening to you every day. But the temperature is rising. But if you look back just a little, you remember a time when everywhere you went, the traffic wasn’t cut down to one lane because of construction; and taxes weren’t nearly as high—and you had a name that was not stored in Edgar’s database. Edgar? Never mind; if you don’t know him, it would take too long to explain. But you do remember when you could go through the grocery line without needing a “rebate card” to get your groceries at the same price as those people who filled out the questionnaire. You remember the questionnaire (is that even lawful?)—the one that required your social security and drivers license numbers. Did you think about where the information was going? Or did you naively not think? Did you notice the day the clerks stopped saying, “thank you,” because it’s printed on your receipt? Were you like the frog, content in water that rises gently toward a boiling point? Ask yourself how many times you’ve questioned the little things of every day life. Did you know you were signing a contract even before you could write, just by being born in the United States? And you thought you were supposed to be of legal age to sign a contract. Right? Same thing with your social security number: Do you realize how socially secure that number made you? And you couldn’t wait to get your drivers license before you were sixteen, so you could drive. Wow! But it sort of stung, like a bee, when you got your first paycheck, and $37.10 was taken out by the government. You thought the government was all for you, like it was your servant. But when everyone said it was okay, you went along with the theft, not realizing that a fraud had been perpetrated against you and everyone else way back a few years after the turn of the twentieth century at a place called Jekyll Island. So pretty soon, heck, it was just the way things were. Death and taxes are things you can’t change. Right? You just didn’t notice the temperature rising little by little. Oh happy Day. But wait a minute. Now it’s been 46 years, and you have paid the government $193,892 just in social security; but they are only giving you back $872.12 a month. If you had put all that money in a guaranteed savings account that compounded quarterly, you would have had over one million dollars growing, which would have allowed you to spend $80,000 a year for the rest of your life—even if you lived to be 102… Now you’re worried you might outlive your money. How did this happen? How did you end up working so hard for so long for so little? Let’s go back to the frog. Look at him; the water is beginning to steam and he’s still languorously floating in the pot. Why? Because there was a time when his world of water was just perfect, and he trusted his environment without question. If a big rock had splashed into the pot, he would have scrambled for safety, but the only thing that happened was the subtle rise in the temperature, not a sudden change. The gradual conditioning the frog underwent blinded him to the truth of his state of existence. And so has it been with you. But stop and think for just five minutes—if you have five minutes in an entire day to stop and think. Remember when things weren’t so hectic and complicated. Remember when you could leave your keys in your car while you were shopping, and think nothing of it. And if you had insurance, it was to protect against the damage of a collision, which certainly didn’t cost you one-tenth of your monthly income. And remember the old “party line?” Where you got to listen in on every one else; twelve of you all on the same line. And you prayed right out there in public, saying “God bless America.” Remember when you knew all your neighbors and you had the time to stop and take an interest in what they were doing? Mrs. Teague borrowed sugar from your mom, and she borrowed butter from Mrs. Teague; and when payment was made, a little extra was given, just out of kindness. Oh happy day. But you may not remember those days, since it was 30 to 40 years ago, depending on which area of the country you grew up in. Personally, I remember living right up the street from a congressman who went on to become the Speaker of the House of Representatives of the whole United States of America; and the mayor and police chief were my pals. And the pastor of my church loaned me his canary yellow Mercury convertible for my honeymoon. Oh happy day. I also remember when things began to change. First it was Mr. J. Edgar Hoover and then McCarthy; and after that the race riots started. Then came the nightmare. In November of 1963, I saw the assassination of John F. Kennedy. To me, all of this was like a rock splashing in the frog’s pot. No it was worse; it was like a hailstorm of creators. Almost over night, things moved from peace to pandemonium; and there were so many distractions, it was all I could do to work and go to school and raise a family and write books and protest the invasion of the body snatchers. That’s what it seemed like. Theresa was a really sweet girl in high school; and then she was working as a “confidential informant” for the police department. Then she was strung out on the drugs the police gave her. Then they were calling her a “speed whore,” and making fun of the girl who had been in the National Honor Society. Overnight policemen turned into pigs. Nice people became abrasive and rude. Windows went up and the keys in the ignition disappeared into places of safekeeping. Doors closed tightly with deadbolts and chain latches became common. Smiles turned to frowns. Every night we heard the “body count.” Vietnam was in its heyday; and assassinations were rampant. We know the big ones: John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, and Bobby Kennedy. Lee Harvey Oswald was written off as an assassin who was murdered by a Kennedy loyalist, but he was another assassin—along with a lot of other smaller assassinations. If we look at the definition of “assassination,” it means to kill for political or religious motives, so the body count on that one is in the thousands. So, here we are in the biggest election year of the entire history of this country about to vote in the same oh, same oh. Not, oh happy day. Isn’t there a better choice than a guy whose tongue should fall out when he says that “Jesus is his role model?” When did Jesus allow the Pharisees to stone even one? When did Jesus approve the court system that betrayed His Father’s own written Law? And replaced it with a code and self-imposed rules of misconduct? When did Jesus mock a woman in her dying spasms? When did Jesus approve of greed and gluttony? It is written, “man cannot live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.” And we have pompous and corrupted judges sitting in condemnation of children raised in slums and ghettoes, whose treatment in life has been abusive at best, where love was found in the streets of depravity. Where preachers of the Word of God condemn sinners as if they were born in hell and deserve to be sent there at the point of an injection. Where love has become a dirty four-letter word in too many circles. Gambling, pornography, and life-threatening drugs are legal, and made legal by the politicians who are paid more by big business than they are by tax dollars. Tax dollars which are fraudulently stolen from American citizens by the billions every year. Justice and honor have been sold for thirty pieces of silver. If you look at the pot, the frog is now ready to be eaten, if you’re hungry for boiled frog. But imagine that the frog is you and see if your appetite is singing, “Oh happy Day.” Personally, I would rather have Mel Gibson and Danny Glover running the leadership of the country, even if they knew nothing about politics. I believe if the country were turned over to Mel and Danny, they’d do a great job. The trouble is the way the vote is fixed. We couldn’t vote for Mel and Danny if we wanted to, unless they got on one of the other tickets and taught the entire United States how to vote in opposition to their voter registration card. Ask yourself. “How can I vote for an independent when I’m registered as a Democrat or Republican? Do you know? And ask yourself how much you really know about the man who says Jesus is his role model, or the other guy, the one who is trying to disclaim his connection to Clinton. In either case, you lose big time. In the place of the front-runners, I’d take Brown or Nadar. At least you’d have men with a degree of honor in their life. ----- Aloha, He'Ping, Om, Shalom, Salaam. Em Hotep, Peace Be, All My Relations. Omnia Bona Bonis, Adieu, Adios, Aloha. Amen. Roads End <A HREF="http://www.ctrl.org/";>www.ctrl.org</A> DECLARATION & DISCLAIMER ========== CTRL is a discussion & informational exchange list. Proselytizing propagandic screeds are unwelcomed. Substance—not soap-boxing—please! These are sordid matters and 'conspiracy theory'—with its many half-truths, mis- directions and outright frauds—is used politically by different groups with major and minor effects spread throughout the spectrum of time and thought. That being said, CTRLgives no endorsement to the validity of posts, and always suggests to readers; be wary of what you read. CTRL gives no credence to Holocaust denial and nazi's need not apply. Let us please be civil and as always, Caveat Lector. ======================================================================== Archives Available at: http://peach.ease.lsoft.com/archives/ctrl.html <A HREF="http://peach.ease.lsoft.com/archives/ctrl.html";>Archives of [EMAIL PROTECTED]</A> http:[EMAIL PROTECTED]/ <A HREF="http:[EMAIL PROTECTED]/";>ctrl</A> ======================================================================== To subscribe to Conspiracy Theory Research List[CTRL] send email: SUBSCRIBE CTRL [to:] [EMAIL PROTECTED] To UNsubscribe to Conspiracy Theory Research List[CTRL] send email: SIGNOFF CTRL [to:] [EMAIL PROTECTED] Om
