The Church is an Atheist Factory

The only church you need.

 This may come in a few parts. If so, this is part one.

I was thinking about visions I have had in the past while reading Isaiah today, and why they weren’t as impactful at the time as I had them and knowing that the answer is something that’s been pissing me off hard for about a year now. You can stop reading if you want to. You can turn away and think I’m a fool, but you may not want to. I want to point something out, and those who think this is lame already might like it.

The Church is an Atheist Factory. In fact, all of our institutions are atheist factories. Why do I say this?

First, let me explain the vision as quickly as I can. One day in the homeless shelter, when I had nothing to do and only one single hit of my fix remaining, I took my tiny remaining ice whiff and thought of what I might do while I waited for my plug to get back from wherever. I’d been meditating off and on for about a year at this point, and I thought, let’s do it. I have a long time to wait, and I don’t want to wander around Reno. I got under the blanket and rested against the cubicle in a position that felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in, and if I did wind up taking a nap, fine. Way to kill time.

After perhaps an hour and a half, for it felt like eternity, the light behind my eyes filled my whole head, and I was sucked through a vacuum. It was like a roller coaster. All around me were eyes, not like yours or mine; these looked first like green photon eyes and then they shifted to those of cattle, reptile, then shifting to human eyes. They were bulbous and throbbing atop walls of soft, glistening pink meat. The meat crackled with electricity, and around the time I thought I was going to puke, I was spat into what I thought at first was a painting, but when I took a step, I realized I was there. I watched my foot move the same way you do when you walk. My hands were the same. I saw everything with the exact same reality grip as you see your car with at the edge of the dawn when you go to work. That hard feeling of this is real, and it was wonderful. Everything felt perfect.

And then I saw IT.

The wings were metallic blue and pink. Eyes within the razor-like feathers. This thing would slice and dice the entire human race if it felt like it. It was as big as a skyscraper, but somehow my vision was able to take it all in at once, able to see the One Eye in the middle of the Dyson Cage, as we call the spinning, iron torus of the Ophanim. Every part of my body felt young and perfect. No more fucked up hip. No more drug craving, just a very uncanny bliss, which made sense, being that I was not on Earth. I don’t know where I was. Were I a church guy at this time, I probably would have said I was in Heaven. I don’t know about that, at least not in the way people think of it. There were no people in robes or early gates. It was just strange geometry and these things, Seraphim or Ophanim or what-have-you, but I felt welcome and oddly loved.

Then my brain goes: Can we get back?

I had just enough to time to ask if it really wanted to before I was gasping for air underneath the blanket, my back against the cubicle, my body jonesing for a fix. Doug, a member of the VOA (shelter cops), jumped and whirled when he heard me.

“Dude, you okay?” he asked. He was a pretty cool dude.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m good.” And I was. I wasn’t cramped or anything.

“You know how long you been under there?”

“I don’t know, an hour.”

“It’s three in the afternoon already.”

Holy shit. I started a little after nine. That’s like a shift. I sat accidental Siddhi, and I astral traveled. If a guru had been around for it, he’d call me Shri when I came back.  I didn’t tell anyone that. I just acted like whatever and went outside to look for my plug. I found him fast and got what I needed, then wandered off to think about what I saw.

In days of bygone yore, a vision like that would’ve been the end of all addiction, all…everything shitty, really, and the person would’ve felt chosen for something. You hear stories like this all the time. We never know if they’re true, you’d have to know the person in everyday life to see the proof of it if so, but yeah, we hear about folks having visions and becoming churchy all the time. Maybe they were addicted, maybe not, could be the whole thing is bullshit. And that’s what I was thinking about then, finally settling on, it’s just subconscious Freudian Bullshit. Even Jung said all you see is the subconscious. Nothing special about it.

The last sentence isn’t true. Jung said the exact opposite, But we are all taught to believe, even by the church, that we could never be chosen by a divine order to do anything worth a fuck. Yoy can’t be Christ, they say, even though Christ himself said the exact opposite. After all, we’re just lowly workers, barely at all churchy, or even worse, homeless junkies, and everyone knows they’re not worth a fuck. No sane God would choose someone like that to be anything other than a Square’s Carpet. These are more or less the thoughts I had after that vision.

I’m reading Isaiah today and wondering how I could’ve thought that.

Training. Patriarchy. One Man God, Always Pissed, Watching YOU.

If you read the Gideons, you will see that God named Himself Jealousy.

A perfect name for the Institution is Jealous

The Institution on the Whole doesn’t want you feeling like you had a divine vision. The only people who think they’re chosen for anything are stupid fucking dingbats, crazy, Facebook fucks, didn’t you know? God doesn’t choose people, but if he does, they’re behind a pulpit. Or a politician, right, and all this bullshit we’re taught. Even if you meditate, your vision means squat. It’s just a giant subconscious elephant shit landing in the toilet of your amygdala. This is what people think of meditation these days. It’s what they think of God these days, nothing but a stupid amalgam, a  controlling Sky Daddy who prefers Birkenstocks a’floating in the toilet bowl of the ignorant, desperate, and let’s of course not forget total wimps’ human subconscious. If I had a dime for all the people I’ve heard say they’re too tough for faith wind up praying when the cops showed up…

What a goddamn shame that is. And it is the fault of the Institution that we feel this way. You never knew anything about the divine until the Institution gave you their God. That is the God you don’t believe in, and you shouldn’t, for that is True Satan, by which I don’t mean the jocular Fun Boy everyone thinks it is. Anything truly divine, well, sorry, but if you’ve not meditated, you don’t know. You don’t. How could you? Meditation is literally the only way to get the I out of the way. And everyone says they don’t have time to do it.

Bitch, you literally just got done watching a sitcom. Are you enriched?

You won’t meditate because subconsciously, your I is shitting itself at the fearsome thought of being moved out of the way for five to thirty minutes a day. It’s pissing itself at the idea that its captain, you, would entertain the thought of not indulging it for every single second of every day. It’s not YOU, it’s the bloody I. Where you are enriched by things of pop culture, it’s done by a social engineer whose only job it is to make sure you get a little relief from having to produce goods for companies that pay you about 5% of what they actually could and maybe, if you’re lucky, would piss on you if you were on fire. This way, you can pay for a house the bank can take back any ol’ time it feels like, a car that is the same, food that bloats you, music that tells you to kill shit, and blah blah blah, you’ll feel better about it as long as you can live vicariously through all those situations you wish your life was cool enough to provide. Actors, and they’ll even admit this, are social engineers. The shows are all written by propaganda wardens who think that they’re crusader artists (really they’re just getting a check and we all know it). The point is to keep you steered toward the Mammon Shit. There is no Divine, there is only your Time Clock and President Trump, who will certainly save you from all those bills…

I admit, there’s a mean part of me that will think, albeit briefly, of how fucking funny it’ll be when the shit hits the fan, knowing it all could’ve been avoided if people would just pull their heads out of the Status Quo’s ass just long enough to take a good long look at all the forms of Idolatry being celebrated on this Earth and stop fucking consenting to it. Yet I am guilty of so many of them. I only admit this for the benefit of the reader who will see this as self-righteous and only pay attention to the idea that I think I’m some kind of prophet while the rest of the world is a twat.

That’s not what I think. That tiny part of me aside, and you possess it too, don’t fucking lie and say you don’t, you know you do—I softly lament. It’s all so easily fixed. Five minutes becomes thirty. You spent how long doomscrolling today? What, you couldn’t take five motherfucking minutes away from that shit to sit in a chair and breathe in the ultimate in chilled out goodness? I can’t! As soon as I sit down, I want to get up, and I start thinking about all this shit—

Yeah. So, sit there and think about it, when you get fucking sick of hearing it, tell the voices to shut the fuck up and start counting breaths. If you do this, heh, I bet you reach breath friggin’ five before the dove Christ is talking about descending in the Bible comes over you. And no, you don’t have to be ANYTHING to make this work. I don’t care if you’re such a nihilist that all you believe in is your own dick, this will change that.

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE ANYTHING.

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE PURE.

YOU NEED TO BE ABLE TO BREATHE, THAT IS ALL. You don’t have to fast or eat Bana bread or whatever the fuck its called or not “goon” or anything like that. For the DMT, mix noradrenaline with melatonin through meditation often enough, and BLAMMO! I don’t give a damn who you are. It’ll happen. But take care. You’ll trip for like 3 days. And your breathing won’t be the same afterwards. You’ll see. Look. The Institution teaches that it’s sooo hard and you have to be all pure because they know no one is, and they don’t even want you to try. Keep falling for it if you want to, but I’m done with the Mammon Bullshit, and like Daniel, I’m taking the food off his plate and giving it back to the poor, you know,m the flesh beings that actually eat food so they won’t die?

So. People like Nihilism and Atheism because it makes them feel like they’re an individual, a cut above the rest by intellect, a Lofty One who is just too savvy to believe in something as babyshit as a God. They don’t need a Sky Daddy. They don’t need to pray to get shit, by gummit, they WORK. (Make sure you pound your fist on the table when you say that.) It is by their motion and their motion alone that the Universe is moved. And they think that because of the Church. If there had never been this oppressive GODDAMN CHURCH, no one would be so pissed off at God (Formless, Nameless, Bornless, By Whatever Name You Call It) as to hate God and decry the existence of anything they can’t put a bow on and fuck. They would understand that there is no gender to it, and no “Archy” involved with it. It needs no validation. If you’re a man, it may follow to call it He most naturally, but She is just fine, maybe even better if you want to see your way clear to stop being a dick as a person. Of course, the Nihilist and the Athiest both clutch the pearls of their etheric cocks like Rumplestiltskin at a Golden Weave. If you don’t agree with them, they’ll either relegate you to the realm of the shit for brains or, especially in the case of the Nihilist, try to kill you. I don’t blame them.

Not when we have people like Jerry Falwell, Joel Osteen, and Donald Trump. True Blasphemers. This doesn’t mean saying Jesus Christ that fuckin’ hurt dude or Goddammit! That’s not what it means. Blasphemy is when you pretend to be of God when all you are out for is yourself. Those are the people Christ whips in the Bible, selling their trinkets. Or a bunch of Donald Trumps selling Bibles. All these politicians the people make excuses for, true believers who are just “doing the best as they believe the best to be”—

WHAT A CROCK OF FUCKING SHIT.

Anytime you hear that gaslight phrase in the face of the Swine, blow it out. Often, people are not speaking and doing what they think is best for them and everyone else. Sorry Manly Hall, some people are Swine and they don’t care about doing their best. They care about having enough money to buy a dope-riddled orgy after work. There’s no best in that shit. That is a gaslight they give you to accept so you’ll continue to do whatever they want.

And…there are so, so many true Blasphemers in the world.

I’m also not talking about metal bands. That’s still not really Blasphemy. What’s funny about metal bands is that they worship Satan and then shit on the Church’s God like that thing is actual God. The only way you could really shit on God would be to somehow freeze a person’s energetic torus, jump on top of it, drop trou, and take a shit on the crackling field now just below your ass. If you wanted to be really creative, you could sodomize yourself with the fate thread extending from their crown chakra. I suppose that would qualify. Hell, if you chant right during, you might even be able to sell your soul to something that way, I don’t know. Anyway, whatever these metal bands succeed at it is still a gift from the Formless, Nameless, Bornless, Universe, Universal Mind, Breath, All, Source, et al. Because their Satan is God. Ask one of them. A lot of them will tell you they have no problem with Yeshua or True God, what they hate is the same thing I really do not like, the Church. The oppressive, do this or else Church.

Not all churches are that way. Watch for overgeneralizations. Those things are the first and foremost tool that the Swine use to manipulate you.

And it’s that intangible do this or else that drives people away from True God.

And it’s the followers, rabid swine like we’ve seen crop up here and there in our government, swine who have taken it upon themselves to be the manifestation of Yahweh the War Ghoul on Earth, and woe is he who does not bend over and spread cheek for the penetration of the Krosstika.

This is a little jumbled, but it’s run very long. I think I’ve made my point. The Church, the Institution, Politics, all of that stuff, is Mammon Shit and you should stop sodomizing yourself with it. A piece of frozen demon shit does not a good dildo make.

Finally. The 7 Churches in Asia are the Seven Religions of the World.

The Seven Seals are Chakra, but the Earth has those too.

Enjoy your dinner.

Thanks for reading.