Mount Hermon

I'm not sure if it's a kind of mischievousness inside of some people with a lot of knowledge of mythology and basically, I suppose, pseudo-religious folk tales, but, it's at times like these – where we all stand on the edge of another (sigh) round of 'shock and awe,' albeit this time 'limited' or 'narrowly-defined' (whatever that is going to mean) – that you get various rounds of esoteric whisperings about 'the true nature of things.'

Occasionally, it's a lot of fun to wander around inside of YouTube, watching the frothing prophets specialising in the End of The World stuff (which muslims call 'ilmu akir zaman') deliver their sermons on the signs and symbols that portend of the final battle.

You will find prophets of every brand: Jewish, anti-Jewish, Islamic, modern Christian, everything, really, if you waste enough time looking.

The fabled Mount Hermon

At least I guess, it's worth mentioning that the border of Syria and Israel is marked by the beautiful, and religiously significant, Mount Hermon, the spot upon which, it is said, that Grigori descended to have sexual relations with the daughters of men – whom they found 'beautiful.' This worries me, actually, because rather than indicating something wicked within the mindset of the Grigori, it tends to indicate that their idea of physical attractivity must have been like our own (although we have no indication that any among them were gay – and this should please the Russians...) and thus it tends to indicate that the non-human Grigori were themselves, not dissimilar to us. Yet the standard opinion appears to be that they were 'traditionally' angelic (you know, like in ikon paintings), of incalculably large actual metaphysical size and more or less of ineffable shape (five thousand wings ten miles long going in every which way et cetera, and endowed with hundreds of eyes looking in all directions), very advanced in knowledge and power, and whose mismatched genetic offspring were ugly, gigantic, voracious in appetite and violent. According to the beliefs, somehow these descending beings went against the intention of god by finding themselves attracted, to the attractive; as we would know the meaning of the word, ourselves. This strikes me as rather odd, the spin that has been cast onto the ancient myth, even by the writers of the various mainstream scriptures themselves. Frankly I discount these versions we are most generally presented with today, as being accurate – or even vaguely accurate -, accounts of some ancient event or incident that might have happened in the distant past in the vicinity of what has ever since been called Mount Hermon, or: the Mount of the Chieftains.

Today's 'ever-alert Watchers...'

Recently, among my muslim friends, I have once again heard the colourful story they have about ancient Gog and Magog rising up to cause tremendous death and destruction everywhere and even including trying to strike at the current (modern) band of angelic beings now above the earth, by the shooting of powerful arrows up into space. According to this tale, the modern angels send the arrow-heads back covered in some red dye giving the bad guys the impression that they had indeed injured the 'hosts of heaven...'

Much though I probably shouldn't say this, I did witness a year or so ago, one of the test firings of the Israeli Arrow 3 missile that goes into space and can knock out satellites and controlled space craft. Quite an amazing piece of technology, really. And of course, the Syrians might have the Russian-made Yakhont missile, and they certainly do have a few anti-Tomahawk missile Kashtan-M batteries. And so we shall soon see what all transpires, when a mini run-through in real life of the popular folk tales about final battles, takes place, covered by Fox and CNN.

Russian Yakhont missile
not a joke, by any means

Alawis belong to a most peculiar 'religion,' if it can be called that even. Bashar Al-Assad is a totally weird-looking fellow, to me. He has snake-ish eyes. I don't like him when I look at him. Frankly don't care what weapons he uses or has used. And when you hear him speak you can easily get the notion that he is a most self-involved, arrogant, mindlessly self-important, and utterly stupid person. And so there, you have my declaration of where I stand on this subject. But he is a very small snake compared to the bigger ones there are in the Arabian World. Let's see how long it takes to get rid of a small snake, because there are some big ones that will have to be dealt with sooner or later. Abdullah will soon enough go into his 'unmanifested form' as the Tamilian friends of my childhood would say. He is a huge snake, but there are others ready to grab his spot, and for the most part, the ones being supported by the West are, as usual, the same wrong ones 'we' supported like we supported Saddam, Al-Assad, and even bin Laden (or whatever his real name was). The right ones, in my view, have names like Kaled, or Talal, or Rashid somewhere in their names. (You don't know how many times I redact stuff from this blog... You can be assured there are a lot of names that I simply cannot mention.)

Syrian TAG Watch Connection

It's just so important to say up-front, that I will not be revealing the name of anyone that I consider either deeply involved or responsible for any recent event remotely linked with all these acts of violence that we see around us and on the general media.

Who are these guys? What do
they know...?

I will say that I hear from quite a number of well-connected people that on one level at least, the total failure of Abdullah of Saudi Arabia to grasp the necessity for real leadership and the adopting of modern progressive attitudes, is nothing but fatally-flawed nostalgia about what it takes and what it brings to the privileged, being an absolute ruler over slaves. And it is a symbol to all the other un-elected dictators virtually everywhere, when you think about it, that power and wealth can remain in the hands of people so long totally disconnected from the practical realities of ordinary people. Marie-Antoinette's passing, of course, may have given a different message to the modern era – but that message has clearly been forgotten by all the absolute rulers ever since.

Americans often have wondered why Saudi Arabia does not send its own army in to resolve regional problems requiring military solutions, or why it doesn't send realistic support to the US when the US does its dirty work for it. The real answer is that Saudi Arabia does not have an army. It has a quarter-of-a-million in number, personal bodyguard-to-the-Chieftan, who are entirely separate to the army, because the army is not trusted by the ruler. So there you go. Now you know what game is being played here.

There is an army. That is what oil money can get you – a lot of very good uniforms and machines and things. Air-conditioned quarters. A good army band. That kind of thing.

The rest of this piece is a demonstration of the fact that: never will you be told by the media or the CIA or anyone else, what is going on and who specifically by name are really involved. Because, all of them exist out in the open as hugely important, massively wealthy, or supremely powerful political figures all around the world. They may slide off their thrones in a heartbeat, and someone just beneath them take over then, and then everyone has to deal with this person, and perhaps it was someone aggressively conspired against five minutes earlier. There is an impression, allowed to the mass of the general public particularly in the USA, that the USA – or indeed any great sovereign power - has some kind of eventual and over-arching strategic ability to control all of these vicissitudes. And that is not true and groups like the CIA know it.

Thus we may think, incorrectly, that we can 'see' or 'know' who is a 'bad guy' or a 'muslim fundamentalist' or an Arab, or a Syrian, or a Jew, or a Chinese, Indian, Persian – and so on. The world, however, is much too diverse of a place now, for this idea to be even partly correct. It is wholly false.

I have said before, a long time ago when there was a scandal over Max Mosley, likely on one of the Bear Forum Boards, that I consider the Formula 1 Mclaren brains, Ron Dennis, to be an absolutely brilliant tactical and strategic thinker, and it may have served the British MI6 better at the time, for them to have taken his advice over the criminals behind the Murdoch Empire – but alas, such was not the case, and yet, every single one of the top London Metropolitan Police who believed they were immune, are now having to dig weeds or give vicious dog handling instructions to tyrants in the Middle East in order to make a buck to support the lifestyles to which they had become accustomed. The talent is always there, and it is, of course, seldom used because everyone in power already has sufficient wisdom, don't they.

There was a lot more behind the Max Mosley incident than you know, or than you will likely ever know.

Let me now show you though, as a kind of instructive pointer, what you are up against, when it comes to how the world works. And it has nothing to do with the illuminati or Masons and all that – not really; not at the pinnacle.

The circles of big money know who each other one of them participating, is. And when someone new turns up, they find out soon enough who they are and where they got their money, and what they represent. This is not something either the CIA nor the NSA has access to, at all, in spite of what they would like to believe.

And let's face it, boys and girls, anyone here who has known me for a long time will confirm that I have been describing this specific stuff for so long that it is not available for questioning whether or not someone in government secret services and intelligence bodies must have also know it.

No one did anything though. And now we have a huge and spreading war all over the Middle East and which will inevitably engulf Saudi Arabia and kick out Abdullah and his closest cronies. Period. That's where we're heading.

And so now let me show you something: the head of the most effective (as in effective like say, arguably, Tito of Yugoslavia was effective) military body in Hafez Al Assad's Syria, was Mustafa Tlass. But it is questionable whether, were he still alive and in control behind the scenes, he would be anything at all like the present regime leaders. And I don't think he would...

His sons are among the military commanders who have since defected away from the Bashar Al Assad regime.

Tlass was related by various marriage ties, to prominent and successful Syrian businesspeople, all of whom long since left Syria and went to Europe and the United Kingdom. ...Where, I believe, they may have been thunderstruck by the even more rampant, in fact rampaging, chemical weapons, lethal weapons, military goods and services scene thriving there and in the hands of what are said to be fine upstanding members of modern progressive democratic society. Ha! What a laugh!

Anyway... Here is a pic of Ron Dennis, and the owner of Mclaren Racing, Mansour Ojjeh, whose wife is related to the Tlass Family.  

That's Ron Dennis, left, and Mansour Ojjeh, right.
Mansour owns(ed) T.A.G. watches.

Firas Tlass, is predominantly who the French Secret Services are getting a lot of their current information from. Now normally, a de-briefing of this kind of 'walk-across,' takes months and months if not years to obtain intelligence on that one can take off on any action on. I'm not intending to be pejorative about this particular situation; just saying what the tradition has been so that future incidents are not judged by this one.

All I can add is, although there is no connection to any of the people mentioned here, the way of the aristocrats of the Middle East goes by reliance on viziers. And I can tell you right now that I give not two cents for the value of the US administration's own viziers, whoever they may be, and even less for the viziers of Abdullah, not that I think he even has any really – just like other sycophant-rewarding dictators like that other arms dealer Lee Kwan Yew, who also has a story yet to be revealed onto the world stage which probably will be, following his imminent death now.

Speaking of virtual certainties and ex-assets, d'yall remember an accountant at the head of Arthur Anderson when it went Crash! I seem to recall his name being something like Shady Sandbars or something akin. I think he's the pr spokesman for some Mid-East ruler or other now.

...You can't take the same faces off the same old gravy-train, once they have a taste. That's all I'm saying. And it's not personally cheap for someone to reject and renounce that sort of life. And I admire the sorts of people who do and make a life in different pursuits. They know, the value of human life. The rest, do not.

Distracting People's Attention

Huff-Po continues to show us the latest scandalous event, and this week it's apparently about some lewd-ish thing that a heavily-marketed performer did on stage.

Huff-Po will absolutely also cover the UN's verification that chemicals were used by Assad against ordinary civilians.

However, I will suggest that you also try – as I spoke of back in I think June of this year – to stick six million Scovile units of cobra chilli pepper mist into your own eyes and see whether or not you might not prefer an actual nerve gas instead.

Personally I'm not sure what the tactical purpose of a chemical agent like Sarin is, when cobra chilli spray will do an even better job of suppressing opposition without the UN whining about what you did. I can clearly recall ex-London Met second top cop JohnYates whinging and whining in the Levinson Inquiry about his imminent 'political' sacking because of the offsetting 'real' value of his brilliant work on the terrorists all over London who would doubtless see his sacking as a green light for them to go hog wild. Well, okay muslims are not going to go hog wild, but some kind of wild anyway.

Burlesque Dancer Ginger Valentine

Here's the main problem, as I see it. Ginger Valentine should have been in Huff-Po, and wasn't. She's from Texas and she's the real deal. Bandar only knows what Huff-Po also knows – which is not too much of anything all that real. And there is in any case, a lot of in-fighting between all the Saudi Princes. They are not unified, and they are not organised; they are manipulative, and they are also manipulated. But they go by the pop version of events.

The real thing is the real thing. Everything is very misty though, in the Great Game. The real things hide in the mist. You only get to see them when it's already too late. Nobody sees much of anything at the moment. Just the rising mist. Something is creeping about in there, though. A snake, maybe. A monster maybe. The 'Game' is not 'Great' for nothing. It would be a fool who thinks he knows the outcome already, and an even bigger fool who goes about with any sense of arrogance. When you are arrogant, as Vince Lombardi once opined, you are brittle against a real opponent.

Having this sort of idea is just common sense too and doesn't come from any special inside knowledge. It surprises me though at the moment that the pop media hasn't floated the idea by now of a specialist 'hit team' with a catchy code name like in the old days of the first really major oil price crisis. Something like the old Team 'Jackal.' But I guess that's the difference between the current Disney kids and the old school. Not that I know anything by the way, in case the NSA gives a damn about what I write here! Which I doubt very considerably that they would. Afterall, how could anyone challenge the conclusions of the combined CIA/NSA budget of over 25 billion US Dollars annually. They, certainly, for that kind of money, must know it all. Put it this way, the temptation must be very great in there to carry on as if they did.

 

Where does all that money go, though? Anyone know?

Novelty For The Wealthy

When The Big Money Hits...



Ten grand, can you believe? Nice though.
I'd have it.

My wife's friend complained just last weekend about one of her husband's colleagues (well, at least it wasn't me she was talking about!) getting silly drunk with her husband.



Now these guys are regulars at probably the city's most upscale small restaurant and the types of money they spend there for alcohol is not particularly unusual I wouldn't have thought.

My own business partner is at the moment staying with some super-wealthy farmer types in the Outback and there is a troika of these 'bushmen' there all of whom know Johnnie well enough to – as they put – be able to call him Jack.

Lawrence, she's great but this is Ni Kulturni
compared to...

Okay so they drink scotch whisky.

I mean this is another one of these 'good living' subjects where there can certainly be a lot of snobbery, a lot of folklore, and a few genuinely traditional customs well worth retaining.

Sticking your finger into the small ceramic jug of water as you move it over to where you might add a little into the scotch, is something that I will personally retain mainly because that was the way my grandmother insisted that you do it – and she was born in Eaglesham so I will respect that.

I'm not a great fan of those small-lipped malt whisky glasses that have become the thing with the single malt people – not that I wouldn't ever do it. Personally I like those old heavy-based cut crystal big tumblers; supposedly too big to properly be able to get the concentration of flavours into your nose and taste receptors. I don't care what 'proper' is, I already know what all the Johnnie Walkers taste like – and I do mean all. Swing Superior included.

But what's this idea of getting so smashed that everything tends to get seriously messy and then it's 'lights out?!' I mean you just can't do this sort of thing all the time and especially not just because you have suddenly made another pile of money from whatever scheme. And you can't do it because what does it say about having a lot of money? That you have no clue about what to do with money other than make yourself unconscious?! It's ridiculous.

No I don't get all the 'complex flavours and depth of character et cetera et cetera...' I know anything Chivas tends to be a little bit sweeter than most. I know that I really like Ballantine's and Dalmore. I know that I can bear Red Label without much trouble. And much more than that I do not know.

Oh hey, don't get me wrong, I can equate a good spirit of age with a good woman of that certain age along with the best of them. And I can do the whole 'approach' and 'discovery' or 'reveal' as the French say probably even better than Richard Paterson.



A Tivioli sable being correctly modelled

No, it isn't me that I'm having difficulty with. It is all those wildly more loaded with cash and money guys around me that I'm struggling to understand what their point is in trying each day to have even more money than they already do. I'm sure that five minutes after I mention some interesting novelty to them they'd all go out and buy it and show their buddies the next new thing about what you have to do or to have or have to be, when you are rich. Or more rich, at least. I cannot think of more boring people to rub shoulders with than the Bill Gates's or the Bill O'Reilly's or all those kinds of media-exposed Ultra High Net Worthers. Seriously not. They are self-delusional narcissists whose only reason for being found 'interesting' to the uncritical, is that they are horrendously rich.

I won't be mentioning any novelties to any of them.



O, but I do know some novelties, believe you me.

Tea And Cucumber Sandwiches

Tea and cucumber sandwiches, anyone?

I have always had a slight feeling of underlying scepticism when it comes to things like drinking tea and eating cucumber sandwiches.

Coffee is the drink of revolutions, if not revolutionaries – and I drink a lot of it. Tea, on the other hand, has always struck me as the native Englishman's excuse for his austere streak, simply being prettied-up with porcelain and wild-picked flowers by the butler, maid, or mem-saab.

Cucumber sandwiches likewise; too simple, too austere, too, too, insubstantial!

So much for my 'slight feeling.' It's obviously a rampaging cultural prejudice. I constan

tly have to tell people that whilst I can accept being termed British, I am thoroughly no such thing as 'English!'

But am I missing something? I know that beneath it all, there is this kind of sense of wealth some decent English have in them, to do with their strong desire to quietly savour the wealth of total victory. Some Germans have it, too...

And that greatest victory is the one that virtually no one else ever sees but the victors – those sneaky victories that creep up and invade the brainspace of the conquered. It's not necessarily unstoppable, but you do have to have your wits about you or otherwise it's too late.

Unlike what all the tyros do, recently I spent three entire days doing nothing, watching the wave-tops on the ocean outside, from morning to night, napping quite a lot in between, and drinking tea what's more, and eating finger food including cucumber sandwiches. I'm not sure that I felt any real sense of privation during the episode. Okay I drank lots of coffee too. And I bought a bottle of another one of these glut-cheap young whites that may be had here for little money right now.

I learned something from the wave-tops. A 'disassociative sea of digital data' – and I am grateful to another person on a Bear Chat Board elsewhere for this phrase – may indeed contain sharks.

Reduced to a simplicitude, the medium that makes things float is water; but currency is the water that floats things, not digital data.

Right now I can see the sharks circling. It must be the clarity that tea-drinking brings. Though perhaps I'm mistaken.

Time for another tea, and a cucumber sandwich, and perhaps a Tiger or two later on still. Sharks, what sharks? What are you talking about, Calvin? Circling around a currency? No, not a currency. I think the sharks are circling around themselves and I don't want to be anywhere near the vicinity of any scratch on the precious reputations of all these unimpeachable, moral, honourable, patriots – of whatever country you want to talk about, not just the obvious one(s) - who are all just doing things not for money or sex but for the love of their countries.

You see? That's where tea-drinking fits in – when you just want to wallow in cynicism.

 

Calvin J. Bear