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American Journey: Atlantic Whales, Woolly Mammoths, Putt-Putt Golf And The Chemtrail Extinction Event
During the summer of 2013 I was fortunate to visit some memorable parts of the US and Canada. Although I had to break the bank to afford it, it was a chance to take my son and his friend on a high school adventure and show them the real America. I think they enjoyed it and it helped to interrupt their nonstop addiction with iPhone, so that in itself may have been to the good.
Traveling at
various times with friends and family, we first visited the most eastern
location in the US: Lubec, Maine. The lighthouses, foghorns, forests,
bogs, cliffs and scenery is spectacular and the seafood delicious, and
less radioactive than can be found where I normally reside, Japan.
Maine is one
of the most beautiful, if not temperate, but friendliest places in the
US. On one road we pulled into a driveway because we were a bit lost,
and because there were normally so few cars a woman pulled over to give
us directions, without our even asking for help. Now that's hospitality.
Driving along
the roads from Bangor airport to our first destination, we did see a
bumpersticker that said “Irish need not apply” which is an unPC joke
about old ethnic rivalries. Maine was settled by New Englanders, Irish
and many of French extraction. I think they are mostly all mixed up
now, in more ways than one.
In Maine they
say “ah-yuh, you can't get they-ah from he-ah, ah-yuh” (Yep, you can't
get there from here, ah, yeah). “Ah-yuh.” I guess that is because there
are so many hills and mountains, peninsulas, swamps and moose blocking
the roads.
People may
have too much time on their hands true -- it is not uncommon to see
a car or truck artfully placed atop a house as a kind of monument, a
comical sight given it is not where one normally parks. Excuse me, are
you lost?
Folks in rural
Maine are lovable, if rough around the edges. On a chilly summer day
you'll see a fella' walking down a small town street in an old t-shirt,
unshaven and disheveled, and probably hung over while on his way to
have the hair of the dog that bit him at the bar. Rural Maine is not
for the faint of heart. The northern region we passed through is one
of the poorest counties in the country. But people still seem friendly,
quick to smile, and part of a community. They are “Mainiacs”-- home
to loggers and fisherman, and, Stephen King.
Along our trip
we stopped at a famous local restaurant to have the classic lobster
dinner and piece of blueberry pie, it was exquisite. Next to us were
seated a large group of locals who had dropped by on their motorcycles.
Even though it was a cool day one rugged fellow in the group wore a
tank top shirt hey, it's summer. I eavesdropped and enjoyed their distinctive
Maine accents while they ate huge lunches before hurtling their motorcycles
on down the road.
A few days
earlier two women had gotten lost in the foggy darkness of a back road
and driven into the ocean.
They drowned. The lesson is, if you drive
into deep water and your car goes under, fill your lungs with air and
then roll down the window and swim the hell out of there, don't just
wait and call 911!
We stayed for
a few days in Canada on Campobello Island. Crossing the border one day
while going back to the US, the immigration officer, Officer Fox, said
in the most northeastern/Maine/east coast accent you could imagine:
“Now let me get this straight, you's all is camping over there in Canada?”
I was nervous
given I did not want to be sent down to Gitmo, having criticized the
government in articles posted at the world's leading alternative news
website, Rense.com. “Yes, we are camp...camp...camping on Campobello,”
I said in a shaky voice-- confused because if we were “camping” it should
have been obvious that it was at “Campobello.” I would have gladly submitted
to a full body cavity search if it meant getting to the lobster restaurant
on time, but he just waved us through.
The weather
“down east” (which actually means “up north” according to Maine speak)
can frequently be foggy but when the fog lifts while standing on the
high banks of the Bay of Fundy-- Heaven is revealed-- the most wonderful
vista you can witness (and I've been to the African Serengeti and New
Zealand's south island, both places of unparalleled charm and beauty).
The fog would sweep around from time to time, flirting with the sunshine
and depositing rainbows across vast stretches of water, waves and tree
covered islands. We enjoyed walks on rocky coastlines at Quoddy Lighthouse
and Liberty Point, threw skimmer stones into the indifferent, tumultuous
and gray ocean and looked down 1,000 foot cliffs to the rocky shores
and the lighthouse ... CONTINUED AT LINK PROVIDED ABOVE
[SIDEBAR: One
of the 'Taoist Masters' I studied with said sex is the power,
all-powerful energy of the human being. When seeing a baby born, this
power is present.
Holding sex down and suppressing the energy he said, is like holding down ping pong balls under water with both arms and hands, the balls are beneath the weight, BUT PING PONG, the balls always get free.
America in this time is like ping pong balls. So many being held down under water and ready to pop. When this happens then the SLOBS and the BLOB and the ZIONISTS with all their foolish fraud in religion ['Jewry Politics'] are going to understand the reality of what the universe decides about nature.
It is truly arrogant of the so called 'leaders' in earth to imagine for a nano that power belongs to other than 'nature' first.]
THE PING PONG MATCH, WC FIELDS, YOU CAN'T CHEAT AN HONEST MAN, 1939
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