Scoop That Goop

Stick with me here, we're going places.

I want to cover one of the most important and human things that one can possibly experience…

I call it “scooping the goop.”

Have you ever baked a cake?

Made fluffy scrambled eggs?

Opened a can of tomato paste?

Or maybe cooking isn’t your style?

Alright, how ‘bout mixing concrete?

Painting a wall?

Oh, how about when you step in dog poop?

There is an immutable Truth in the world; a Truth that one finds themselves privy to in all these scenarios…

The Truth is that there is always that little bit of goop at the bottom of any container that you just cannot get out. There’s always some little bit of goop sticking to the spatula used to stir icing.

This is the dilemma of dilemmas: you attempt to use the spatula to scrape out the last dregs of icing out of the mixing bowl. Great, now you slather as much of the icing as you can on the cake.

There’s still residue in the bowl.

There’s still residue on the spatula.

Destined to be left as waste.

Ultimately, you want to get all the icing into one location. You want to minimize waste. You want to preserve what you can in the most economical way.

Didn’t you already have that before you introduced the spatula?

But you needed the spatula to apply icing to the cake, right?

Is there a way to avoid two utensils accumulating the icing?

Hmm…

You continue to use the spatula to scoop a smidge more out of the bowl. There are still streaks as you trade residue on the spatula with reside in the bowl… You’re just moving the icing back and forth at this point.

Fine, you get another fresh spatula and scrape as much as you can out of the bowl with the idea of putting both into a plastic bag and storing them that way. Two spatulas take up less space than a large mixing bowl.

Uh oh…

Now you have two spatulas with the majority of the icing on them, but there’s still a very small amount in the bowl. Meh, let’s worry about the spatulas for now.

You keep trying to scoop all the icing off of one spatula onto the other. Perhaps you can just get it down to one spatula?

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Now you have three utensils with varying amounts of icing on them…. The more you try to add a tool to solve the problem, the wider you just end up spreading out the problem. If you continue down this path, eventually every utensil you own will have a negligible amount of icing on them. The more you work, the worse your results.

Are you starting to understand?

You WANT perfection. You NEED for perfection — your desire for NO WASTE is driving you mad at this point. You want to have all the icing, all that goop, centralized into one vessel. You don’t want anything to go to waste, ideally, but you’re willing to settle for the most optimal outcome…

When you’re painting a wall, isn’t it true that you don’t want to have even one brush stroke’s worth more paint than you need?

When pouring expensive wine, do you not shake the bottle for every last drop?

When squeezing tooth paste out, do you not crimp the tube to wrest free the very last smidge of paste?

When baking cookies, isn’t it wonderful when you can make a square dozen and not have a lumpy half-sized and malformed runt of a cookie on the side?

This… This is the struggle of struggles. This is what separates us from beasts. This is the heart of the Fruit of Knowledge of Right and Wrong. You KNOW what the optimal outcome is. You understand that perfection is theoretically attainable.

Yet… the means to have all the goop either stored away or all used up with nothing to spare eludes you…

You see what you want, yet lack the tools to arrive at the desired outcome.

You want to be able to remove every last pigment of paint and return to an empty canvas.

This is the thought process of a mind which has fallen to the pursuit of perfection.

This is the thought process of one who is obsessed…

The only way to maintain your sanity is through Dilution.

Dilution

You must dilute that which is tormenting your psyche.

You have to accept the loss. You have to give it back to the Waters. Only then can you be cleansed.

Only by accepting the loss of what is good, of that which is tragically too inadequate for further use, might you be free from the bonds of obsession.

You must take the bowl, and the spatulas, and put them in the sink. You must turn on the tap, and let the water dilute the utensils. You must wash them. If you do not, if you stow them away with the icing still upon them, the icing will surely taint your next endeavor.

You cannot save it all. Some will invariably be left to waste. Even if you lick the spatula and bowl, some will remain. The only way to clean them is through a soaking, a scrubbing, and a drying. The icing will be dispersed in the water, and the drain will take it away.

Then, whence will the goop find itself?

Its dregs so widely dispersed, is it even recognizable as the icing it once was?

Its identity will have been lost to that dreadful refuse churning in the depths of the sewers. Perhaps eventually taken out to sea, but of no real use or sustenance to anything the naked eye could see. It joins the effluvial soup of the All, to lend itself to the composition of new life, in whatever form that may take.

You see now what I’m talking about?

I’m talking about life.

I’m talking about death.

I’m talking about how God sees the world.

Of Heaven and Hell, and those destined for one or the other.

Only God has the authority and the perception to realize fully that nothing He made is wasteful, by design. Only those who seek to usurp God think in such ways as the obsessive one trying desperately to preserve the dregs of something well past saving.

Only God is Judge of the One and the All.

Grief. That is the process of which I describe.

• First, you deny the unavoidable loss. You believe that you might save it. That something can be done.

• Next, you feel anger and frustration that things are as they must be.

• You bargain, trying to find some way to trade for what you desire, or merely buy time.

• Then comes the depression, in recognizing that the more you work and bargain the worse things become.

• Finally, you must accept the Truth.

Loss is inevitable…

Waste is inevitable…

All that time wasted, never to be recovered. All the “goop” of life you spent worrying about, only to squander that one last lick of icing on the spatula. Instead of savoring the start of something new, we often opt to obsess over the cost that went into it.

You chop down a tree and make a table from it. Wouldn’t it be nice to have both the tree and the table?

Wouldn’t it be nice to have your cake and eat it too? With no icing left to spare?

A highschool teacher I had once told me that life must be taken in order to sustain life. As a geometry teacher, I’ve often wondered why he felt it necessary to tell us that…

Regardless of his intent, the message has stuck, like icing to the mixing bowl.

No matter what you do in this life, you must sacrifice that which is in order to give birth to something which is yet to be.

Icing left in the bowl must be considered a calculated loss. Spoilage.

The more you putz with trying to smear icing around in an effort to avoid this inevitable Truth, the closer you are to the gates of madness. Obsession is the catalyst upon which destruction lays ruin to all.

The only way to cope with this reality is to accept that nothing is wasted. The more you try to control things, the worse your results will be. All things will dilute. All things will return to their natural state. To dust shall they return. All things will be born, live, die, rot, and be reborn anew. The Circle of Life is but an endlessly streaming jet of water we call Time.

Time dilutes all. Memories fade. Mountains are worn down.

The only things truly left to waste are those which are hid away for the sake of preservation. By protecting them from the elements, you are removing them from the natural order.

It is the foolish dream of those who seek to preserve everything, just as it is, which causes us such distress in our world. Those who seek to waste nothing, to live in an ideal world without loss, are obsessive. They are in grief. They deny things as they are, and are bargaining with our lives to prevent an end to their ideal world. They strive for an unchanging world, frozen in time, such that they may take account of all there is and know all there is to know.

Perfection can be obtained. It is real. We all acknowledge it, and have given it a name... yet, it is not for the hands of Mortal Man to wield. We are approximations of real Perfection. We are made in its image, but are not to be confused with the genuine article.

There are those who think themselves already perfect…

Centralization

The Cabal think they know better.

They believe that perfection is theirs to claim. They believe themselves to be gods equal to the One True God. They believe that if they were not prevented in doing so, that they might be able to scoop icing out of the bowl and leave nothing behind. If they just work the paint on the canvas more, their masterpiece will finally take form!

They believe they have the capacity to Centralize all things.

They want the world to be ideal — to be THEIR idea.

They want the world to match the reality they envision, not the one God envisioned.

They want a world without loss.

Immortality of all things Worldly.

Eternal preservation of their possessions.

They want to be able to have all the icing in the world securely placed in one bowl and accounted for. Nothing spread out. Nothing wasted. Nothing lost to the dilution of the endless Waters of Time.

They want everything predictable, as it was, before those… things… with their “Free Will” came about and ruined Perfection.

They seek to restore the Garden to a time before the Man creature tainted it with his fickle nature. His whims threaten to close off Time, the knowledge of all there is to know, to the Spirits. Whereas once all things could be predicted, and the outcome certain, the actions of the Man upon Creation have resulted in an endless tree of possible outcomes.

Rocks are predictable. Plants are predictable. Beasts are predictable.

Man is not predictable.

Therefore, it is necessary to reduce Man to his “appropriate” state; his deserved station…

To that of a Beast.

Because Man has power over his own destiny, and the fate of the World, the only way to accomplish this goal is to convince Man that he would be happier living as the Beasts do — as a victim to his own behaviors and habits. As a devout follower of the Self.

A Servant to the Self, rather than a Custodian of the Garden.

“Thus, might we once again rule as the most favored audience of God’s Creation. For, as long as Man inhabits the Earth as an independent being, Creation’s fate will not be assured. Our place in knowing the All will be lost on account of this agent of random and chaos.

Man cannot be trusted… Man must be tamed.”

This is the thinking of a Demon. An Angel which abdicated their place in Heaven in exchange of preserving an ideal world that God saw fit to complete with what we might call a “surprise.”

Demons hate surprises.

They hate it when they cannot predict an outcome. They hate it when things are not ideal. Their ideal. They’ve come to hate God for ruining what they believed was once a Perfect World.

A World without loss.

A World without Man.

To arrive once again at such a World, they seek to Centralize everything.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

Imagine a workshop filled with tools. There is a place for everything, and everything is in its place.

“This is the Natural State. Peace. Serenity. Calm.

Everything is frozen, predictable, and safe.

Secure.

No tools in harm’s way.

Everything oiled and well fastened.

No chance for anything to be lost or broken.

Preserved.

Then…

A freakish ape enters the workshop and takes tools off the wall. Boards are removed from the rafters and marks are made upon them. The pencil’s fine point is dulled!

DULLED!

The board is carved with a saw!

THE BOARD IS LOST! THE SAW’S TEETH ARE DULLED!

The outrage! The scandal!

The ape takes an apron and puts it on. His hands get covered in pencil lead and saw dust. He wipes his hands on the apron!

HE WIPES HIS HANDS ON THE APRON!

It is now dirty! A board is now rent in twain! The saw and pencil are dull! The air is polluted with dust!

The stink — the sweat of that ape is about the place now!

Tools are strewn about!

The floor is marred with the rubbings of the boots!

The boots have wrinkles upon them!

Damn this ape! Damn this ape to hell!

The Master made this workshop. He filled it with all that was perfect. Honed every blade and point to perfection.

All to be ruined by this… thing… that He let in the shop.

What was the Master thinking?

Dirty. Filthy. Uncultured. Wasteful.

He disrespects the Master’s place of work!

WHY did the Master let him in?

Things were perfect! Things were just as they were meant to be!

No… no… no…

This must not stand.

We must… we must collect all the tools!

That’s it!

We must take everything and hide it. Keep it hidden away!

The man is stupid — forgetful. He won’t even notice we snatched them away. He will believe he simply misplaced them.

He will be distraught! He will be worried! Ashamed! He will fear the Master’s wrath in having lost the tools!

Yes! That is the way!

We will centralize the tools. Keep them safe. Keep them hid. Obscure them. Keep them in the dark; in the shadows.

The ape will then hide himself away! He will flee and leave the Workshop alone. He will be disparaged to continue his foolish endeavors and risk further ruination of Master’s place of work!

When confronted, he will lie to the Master. He will be cast out! Gone for good!

Yes!

Then, once again, will calm return to the Master’s workshop. Things will be made clean. Things will make sense. Once again will security and predictability be ensured!

And, we will be there as we always have, most favored of Master’s creations, his choir. We will bear witness and praise Him for what is most perfect, free from that detestable ape and his blind foolishness!

If the ape was not a fool, he would not so easily fall into doubt over where the tools went. He would trust himself. He would have faith. He has none of these things. He is not worthy to be in the Master’s workshop. We must prove to the Master he is an abomination, and can only bring ruin.

If the Master casts us out with the ape, then so be it! He made us to serve this purpose — to safeguard His place of work from all those who seek to remove it from its perfect state. If the Master cannot see this, then he is as blind as the ape he let in, proving only that we are the successors of His original will!

We centralize His will! We are His will!

Surely, it must be so!

Hasten now, the ape-thing’s accomplice comes!

She is ever more impulsive than he. Yes! We will use her to distract him, then the tools will be ours to claim!

This… is good…

The ends shall justify the means…”

…

These are the thoughts of a Demon. The Serpent in the Garden, whose tongue is forked.

These are the thoughts of the Cabal.

These are the beliefs and sentiments of those who seek a world without loss. Time frozen, and a workshop within which no work is done. Preserved, as a dead thing held onto only for display.

When their legion of stooges follow their orders, be they politician or other such “expert”; when they seek to centralize power away from those Free Men of God, they are working to stop all novelty from entering into what they see as an already finished product.

[They] are in charge. [They] have power.

[They] want to keep it that way. Forever.

They are obsessed with being able to account for everything. Knowing everything. No more secrets except theirs are allowed. In their minds, those with well kept secrets are better than those left ignorant. Knowledge is power. Power in the hands of the weak minded leads to ruin.

They want all the power centralized under one unchanging rule.

The only way to do that is to prevent new things from happening. Only regurgitation is allowed. Forever swallowing vomit.

Evil cannot create.

To fulfil the Will of Evil, they must hide away all inventions, all tools, and all the glory Man has accomplished. Things must be obscured. Hidden away. Locked behind patents and fraud. Patented and tossed into a warehouse in an unmarked box. It’s designer driven mad, killed, or crippled in some way.

Cures for cancer, free energy, and knowledge of whichever systems lead to failure would disrupt the current economy and render life as we know it obsolete…

These things upset the status quo.

These things will cost those in power their control.

These things risk giving unlimited power to the fickle “sheep” who operate on whimsy and fear.

“These Tools the Master has given us must be reserved for us alone! We are many! We are Legion! We are the Eye of Providence which determines what novelty might enter the world, and to whom the glory is afforded. We are the Illuminated ones! We are the Lucifer, the Dawn Star which heralds in the New Day!”

“Only we shall scoop the goop without loss or waste! For, we alone are Like Unto God!”

“See our hands! Only we are clean, and Cleanliness is next to Godliness!”

Their Mouths are Stained with Ash

Bitter are these words.

Bitter, more is my spirit, for having channeled them…

All these such revelations are permitted me as I bake. As I cook.

As I emulate the Creator…

As I watch others create…

I am made privy to the murmurs of Angels and Demons alike. I get to know how they think.

I ponder upon the fallacies, and am able to recognize them by taste.

I smell and taste these ideas as one might sample icing off a spatula.

I must dilute my tongue with God’s blessed waters, lest they be stained with the ash I have sampled on this dangerous path through the Wilderness.

For the Cabal, however, their tongues are already stained.

And I taste in their words what I have sampled and described for you here today.

They speak about things they don’t understand. They follow the instructions of the Demons, the Satan, the Adversary, yet do not know what they do.

They seek to take what is working, though flawed, and sabotage it in a vain attempt to demonstrate to God that His creation is lacking. That it cannot withstand temptation. This is why they push transing children. This is why they push abortion. This is why they push race tensions. This is the basis for why they do all the detestable things they do. They are trying to show God that His new Man-thing is defective. They cannot understand why God would create something that would be capable of hating Him and everything He made; that He would make something so foolish to the point of destroying itself just to spite God.

Those promised with the access to the levers of power by these malevolent forces do not realize they are being lied to. They do not recognize that they are “taming” humanity for the sake of preserving a dead World in which nothing new is ever permitted to occur. They would rather fall into degeneracy than let others have even a moment of glory that comes from pleasing God by emulating Him and creating something truly New.

This is the Heart of Globalism…

Obsession. Control.

A Centralization of all things, such that nothing be unaccounted for. Control over everything. No goop left to waste. Nothing done without explicit purpose and permission of those that wield power and authority — even against God’s wishes.

They do not want competition. They do not want redundancy. They do not want failsafes. They want everything to work the first time and every time. They, like with the sentiment of modern socialists, believe that the only reason systems don’t work is because they aren’t afforded more power.

Tyranny…

They brazenly disregard the concept of exploitation, corruption, and loopholes that immoral people might take advantage of. They see people as drones, not as individuals struggling through life. They do not understand that the world doesn’t work how they want it to work — that the blueprint and template you have in your mind, that perfect plan, is a thing of mice and men, which oft go awry.

Others take advantage of that naivety. The Globalists, the exploiters and slavers, entertain these notions of grandeur and fantasy. They offer solutions to problems they create, all for the sake of wresting control from people who desperately wish for the world to make sense; for THEIR world to replace the Real world.

Lies versus Truth.

This is why they want us all to buy into their funny money; fiat money. Digital Currencies, designed to centralize their power over us all and everything we do. All so that nothing new may prevent them from cataloguing and knowing all there is to know.

That is their pursuit, their obsession… to become god — to know all there is and have power over it.

Rather than be concerned with things of actual, corporeal worth — they would have us worry about imaginary things. Things that exist only in our dreams and riding the very same lightning bolt upon which Lucifer was cast down from Heaven. Numbers on a screen. Graphs and figures put together by “experts” who once sought to “follow the science” but ended up following the money.

The more we fear, stumble, and stammer, the slower Time moves. Not the time a clock can measure, but the Time of the seasons. If everything has its place, so too does it have a time. A time and place for everything, and everything in its time and place. Flowers do not bloom in winter.

Doubt and fear. These are the tools of the Satan — the one who would hide the Tools of God from His most Beloved.

Jesus was a Carpenter. THE Carpenter. Masons build large structures, towers, and monoliths. Places of worship. Made of stone, that they might last indefinitely.

Carpenters build homes. Structures made of wood. Designed for a time and a place. Vulnerable to the elements. Ever part of the cycle of Birth, Life, Death, and Rebirth.

This is the Temple Jesus alone can claim to rebuild on the Third Day.

Masons, the Cabal, are so obsessed with the passage of time, in preventing a time where they will die and no longer be in control, that they have forsaken this Temple. They no longer understand it. They are blinded. Lost in the darkness in which they have hidden away God’s tools from the masses. They cannot see that a Workshop is meant for Work.

Theirs is a world of cold pillars and dark, unliving walls.

The Carpenter’s world is the True World, which understands loss is simply the lesser part of gain.

Sacrifices must be made to sustain life.

As I make, I gain knowledge of the Maker’s mind. I see that loss is baked into the system; into the process of processes. God knows that for all things to be good, for the cake to be iced, some will go to waste. What we call waste, anyways. In reality, it returns from whence it came. From dust, to dust. Perfect harmony, and an endless world.

This is Good. This is Truth.

Now… Go scoop that goop, and savor what you can while you’re still here. Lap up the icing while you can. If you wish to see it not go to waste, humble yourself and lick it up yourself. Nothing lasts forever, and that’s a good thing. The alternative is boring and predictable.

The alternative is a lonely God with no family to call His own…

Why else would the Master invite us in to Perfection, if not to share in what He has built?