Introducing: Storm Clouds Gathering

If you, dear reader, have not yet discovered Storm Clouds Gathering, well this is a great place to start.  Progressives and Neocons alike detest SCG’s dismantling of their propaganda structures and narratives, their blind-folding of the American public, their criminality, and their profit-power motives behind their perpetual wars.  Enjoy!

World War III: Who Will Be Blamed?

The War Prayer

War in Your Name

O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts.  Amen.
~ Mark Twain, The War Prayer (“Twain apparently dictated it around 1904-05; it was rejected by his publisher, and was found after his death among his unpublished manuscripts. It was first published in 1923 in Albert Bigelow Paine’s anthology, Europe and Elsewhere.  The story is in response to a particular war, namely the Philippine-American War of 1899-1902, which Twain opposed. See Jim Zwick’s page “Mark Twain on the Philippines” for more of Twain’s writings on the subject.  Transcribed by Steven Orso (”)

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave

Your World is a Fiction

Americans need to come to terms with the fact that they live in The Matrix, a world composed of fake information designed to control thought and behavior.” – Paul Craig Roberts, Institute for Political Economy; The Grand Manipulation, Feb. 6, 2015.

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave

And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened:—Behold! human beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.
And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent.
… and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave?
And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows?
And if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them?
And suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow?
To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images.
And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. At first, when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision,—what will be his reply? And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them,—will he not be perplexed? Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him?
And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than the things which are now being shown to him?
And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he is forced into the presence of the sun himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated? When he approaches the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at all of what are now called realities.
He will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world. And first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the light of the sun by day?
Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is.
He will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and in a certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to behold?
And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them?
[Glaucon] Certainly, he would.
And if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do you think that he would care for such honours and glories, or envy the possessors of them? Would he not say with Homer,
‘Better to be the poor servant of a poor master,’ and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after their manner?
[Glaucon] Yes, … I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner.
Imagine once more, I said, such a one coming suddenly out of the sun to be replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to have his eyes full of darkness?
And if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the shadows with the prisoners who had never moved out of the den, while his sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and the time which would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very considerable), would he not be ridiculous? Men would say of him that up he went and down he came without his eyes; and that it was better not even to think of ascending; and if any one tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only catch the offender, and they would put him to death.
This entire allegory, I said, you may now append, dear Glaucon, to the previous argument; the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upwards to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world according to my poor belief, which, at your desire, I have expressed—whether rightly or wrongly God knows. But, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally either in public or private life must have his eye fixed.
I agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand you.
Moreover, I said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their souls are ever hastening into the upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be trusted.
Yes, very natural.
And is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving himself in a ridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has become accustomed to the surrounding darkness, he is compelled to fight in courts of law, or in other places, about the images or the shadows of images of justice, and is endeavouring to meet the conceptions of those who have never yet seen absolute justice?
Anything but surprising, he replied.
Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind’s eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter life, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the den.
That, he said, is a very just distinction.
But then, if I am right, certain professors of education must be wrong when they say that they can put a knowledge into the soul which was not there before, like sight into blind eyes.
They undoubtedly say this, he replied.
Whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn from darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul be turned from the world of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure the sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or in other words, of the good.
Very true.
And must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the easiest and quickest manner; not implanting the faculty of sight, for that exists already, but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is looking away from the truth?
Yes, he said, such an art may be presumed.
And whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be akin to bodily qualities, for even when they are not originally innate they can be implanted later by habit and exercise, the virtue of wisdom more than anything else contains a divine element which always remains, and by this conversion is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other hand, hurtful and useless. Did you never observe the narrow intelligence flashing from the keen eye of a clever rogue—how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eye-sight is forced into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his cleverness?
Very true, he said.
But what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days of their youth; and they had been severed from those sensual pleasures, such as eating and drinking, which, like leaden weights, were attached to them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon the things that are below—if, I say, they had been released from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction, the very same faculty in them would have seen the truth as keenly as they see what their eyes are turned to now.
Very likely.
Yes, I said; and there is another thing which is likely, or rather a necessary inference from what has preceded, that neither the uneducated and uninformed of the truth, nor yet those who never make an end of their education, will be able ministers of State; not the former, because they have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private as well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all except upon compulsion, fancying that they are already dwelling apart in the islands of the blest.
Very true, he replied.
Then, I said, the business of us who are the founders of the State will be to compel the best minds to attain that knowledge which we have already shown to be the greatest of all—they must continue to ascend until they arrive at the good; but when they have ascended and seen enough we must not allow them to do as they do now.
What do you mean?
I mean that they remain in the upper world: but this must not be allowed; they must be made to descend again among the prisoners in the den, and partake of their labours and honours, whether they are worth having or not.
But is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a worse life, when they might have a better?
You have again forgotten, my friend, I said, the intention of the legislator, who did not aim at making any one class in the State happy above the rest; the happiness was to be in the whole State, and he held the citizens together by persuasion and necessity, making them benefactors of the State, and therefore benefactors of one another; to this end he created them, not to please themselves, but to be his instruments in binding up the State.
True, he said, I had forgotten.
Observe, Glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compelling our philosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall explain to them that in other States, men of their class are not obliged to share in the toils of politics: and this is reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet will, and the government would rather not have them. Being self-taught, they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which they have never received. But we have brought you into the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated you far better and more perfectly than they have been educated, and you are better able to share in the double duty. Wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the dark. When you have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. And thus our State, which is also yours, will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will be administered in a spirit unlike that of other States, in which men fight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for power, which in their eyes is a great good. Whereas the truth is that the State in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always the best and most quietly governed, and the State in which they are most eager, the worst. The quoted portions of Plato’s Republic contained herein are from an eBook provided by Project Gutenberg. The quoted text (only) of the eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at

BFC – Buffalo Haze, Horse Butte, MT, May 2015


Preface:  Since I wrote this, back in May 2015, it has lain here dormant, unread.  Since I wrote this, Buffalo Field Campaign and their affiliates and supporters have achieved amazing victories on behalf of Pte Oyate.  The buffalo now grazed peacefully this past summer on Horse Butte, where the hazing operation described below took place just the year before.  That was their work, their tears, their blood, and their connection and symbiosis with the magnificent American bison.  Together with journalist Chris Ketcham, Stephany Seay, media director for BFC, won media access to the Stephens Creek buffalo trap, to witness and document the round-up of Yellowstone buffalo for slaughter and medical testing (followed by slaughter).  They have also seen their share of heart-rending tragedy, and I have been there to witness some of that.  The gutpiles littered the area around Gardiner, MT, when I visited for twelve days last February.  We counted the buffalo and watched as they migrated down from the Park and toward mechanized annihilation, and were joined in our vigil by the ravens and the coyotes.

If you long to do something – anything – to stop the madness of our destructive culture, if you want to strive to protect one being in the world that is irreplaceable, if you yearn to live and experience the stark brutality of the nexus between our murderous culture and raw nature, help BFC.  Go out there.  They will put you up, they will feed you, and they will give you a family.  They can use your donations, as well.

You can reach Buffalo Field Campaign @buffalowild on Facebook and Messenger, or writing to them at

    Buffalo Field Campaign
    PO Box 957
    West Yellowstone, MT 59758
    United States


A Buffalo Haze.

The wind began to whip up out of the South, blowing sand into my eyes from the towering sand bluffs atop which we stood.  We were just outside of the western edge of Yellowstone Park.  There were 130 buffalo, plus calves, along the East Bluffs, the very edge of the Park.  It wasn’t idyllic in any way; the buffalo weren’t just hanging out.  They were exhausted.  Mothers stood, so their red dogs could drink, if they could stand.  Many couldn’t.  The haze had been paused, after an intense cat-n-mouse, nine-hour rush that had started from the north side of Horse Butte, a large peninsula jutting into Hebgen Lake.  I stood with my wife and three BFC folks, volunteers and coordinators, just behind a deputy from the Gallatin County Sheriff’s Office and two agents of the Gallatin National Forest, the older of those two training his replacement.  We were being cordoned off, and had been told by the deputy that we could go no farther than we were.  This followed our vehicle being boxed in by the head D.O.L. (Montana Dept. of Livestock) agent, Tierney.  His name is pronounced “Tyranny.”  Our team had been bouncing all around Tyranny all day, cutting off to the side, and getting in front of the haze.  Our friend Stephany knew her business on that, and her and Tyranny have history.

I watched in rapt wonder, helpless to record the moment with the Leica camera BFC had provided me, as I had gone through my initial charged battery, and the other four batteries I’d begged and borrowed throughout the afternoon were similarly discharged.  The sim card on my personal camera was full, as well.



Horsed riders surrounded the buffalo.  BFC co-founder Mike Meese, along with Natalie (who Mike had “hi-jacked” from our crew) appeared on the north boundary, out of the trees.  Pat and Annie were 150 yards east of us, just inside the Park boundary, where the rules change regarding state agents.  We had people, in other words, scattered all among the buffalo and the cowboys.  It had been that way all day.

A bull broke out of the herd, transiting out of the firs and over the lip of the sand bluffs, heading toward the South Fork of the Madison, heading for water.  Another buffalo followed, then two more.  Bridger — called “Bridge” by his buds —  spurred his horse to the edge, dismounted, and led his horse pell-mell down to the river, to cut the buffalo off.  It didn’t work, entirely.  He and his horse did succeed in turning the followers, but the instigator beat Bridger to the water, and he was gone.  He didn’t pause to drink.  Freedom!

At least for awhile.  This haze is not a one-off deal.  It happens pretty much every day in West Yellowstone (“West”).