Clarification about the George Noory Interview

When I was on Coast to Coast I was rattled by the barrage of questions and interruptions. I wanted to clarify that when I said the thing that was going to destroy this world wasn’t going to be what he believed at the time, an impending war in Libya. Rather it would be climate change. When he asked how long I said 30 years. But instead of getting to explain what I meant by that he was like, “30 years, we’ll all be dead by then.” I made a comment that I wouldn’t be nor did I expect my kid to be.

In fact this is the very problem with being short-sighted. Go ahead George Bush Jr. have a giant party on the American people, kill hundreds of thousands of people in the middle-east for no reason – because of a lie and then leave our country bankrupt for the next president to fix. This is the way of the Republican party since what was called “The Southern Strategy.”

The “Southern Strategy,” took direct aim at enticing racists in the south to get their vote since none would vote Republican due to the Civil War. Yes, they held a grudge until their own hatred was used to turn them toward the Republican party. This happened around the time of Nixon and has been the strategy ever since. This is HISTORICAL FACT. Look it up if you don’t believe me.

Now back to my point about Noory. I love his show and he’s a good man. I think either he was nervous since I was a new guest that I wasn’t going to perform so he over-reached in his desire to keep the conversation flowing. I don’t blame him for my inablity to get my point across – there was however very limited time. However the point I was trying to make was over the next 30 years we will see the human population on this earth dwindle due to natural disasters, famines – due to weather problems, and everything one can imagine from a changing earth. 30 years is not very long for 7 billion people to be wiped out.

It’s my very strong psychic belief that the road we are on is one in which our kind will be wiped out in a whimper not a bang. If we are lucky we can turn it around – in the “fiction” book I wrote, Americhrist, (first draft started in 1998 and finished in 1999) based on visions I had of the future, we are a divided people – those on the extreme right which stands against science. A few of each tribe survived and a conflict ensues. I don’t want to give it away as it will eventually come out and you can read it in full. But the amount of people who are left on this continent are literally in the thousands. I decided to focus primarily on North America since that’s where I live. I’m sure there will be pockets of people who survive all over the world but it will be miniscule compared to how many of us there are now.

However I KNOW WE CAN CHANGE THIS! I STILL BELIEVE IN HUMANITY AND OUR BRILLIANCE! If we took this SERIOUSLY we could FIX it. This is why I wrote the book, to make it so real, so visceral that it motivated people to DO something about it.

Yes, that is the future I see and it scares the hell out of me. And to answer one person who commented here – I always feel like Cassandra and as you can see by the right-wing ostriches who freak out on me – I am also blamed for the message. It’s frustrating to feel like I’m trying to warn this big bus it’s about to go off a cliff but instead of the driver listening to me – he and half the people on it are giving me the finger as they drive off the cliff – as if I put the cliff there? Pretty irrational, depressing and sad.

That’s humanity for you. Do the world a favor by exposing the truth – Michael Moore, Al Gore and countless others and you get rewarded with death threats.

Nice.

My prayers go out to all those on the east coast.

Many blessings,

Denise

Clarification about the George Noory Interview

Premonition about Hurricane’s in New York

Here is a science fiction book that I published for a while on this site. I took it down because a publishing company is interested in putting it out. It needs some editing but it has won several small literary prizes. I wrote it back in 1999. It took a few years of editing and rebuilding the middle section to make it work the way I wanted it to. However the vision I had of New York being hit by a hurricane is in it. In actuality the entire novel came from visions I had of the future. I have taken an excerpt from the novel and am publishing it here. In the book the only two cities still left (in terms of major cities functioning as such) are New York and Washington, D.C. The main character Psyche and her boyfriend Ira live in Washington D.C. she is unknowingly working on a secret black op project for the government through a private company. Her discovery of this comes after this part of the book. It takes place approximately 30 years in the future:

I scooped Chi up and sat next to Ira to watch the news.

“New York City has been devastated by this unforeseen monster. Shouldn’t the NWFS have warned of this killer hurricane?” the anchorman and actor, Bill Surnow, queried. Shaky video footage from surveillance cameras around the city ran behind him. Buildings swayed from high winds and water suddenly crashed through the streets, the camera went blue. “More after we take a break,” a disembodied voice said.

I grabbed the cordless phone and dialed my mother, simultaneously asking Ira, “What’s going on?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you?”

I shook my head. “There’s a busy signal.”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying all day. They say the lines are down from North Carolina to Maine.”

I dialed my mother’s cell and waited as it endlessly rang.

Ira’s voice cracked. “I’ve already tried that number, too.”

The heroic New York, having survived terrorist attacks, plagues, and earthquakes, was now being washed to sea. The images were gruesome and horrifying. I couldn’t stop thinking about my mother’s short white hair. Her hunched feeble body and the familiar smell of her sandalwood oil, drowning.

The fear mom had to have experienced, seeing the ocean pitched like a tray of water – the sound of breaking bricks and mortar splintering, and glass shattering – people screaming.

Mom alone. Trapped in the brownstone.

Warren Street bursting with salt water, busting down the cobbled street, exploding two hundred year old row houses into broken brick walls with rocking chairs and baby’s cribs, sofas and teddy bears pouring out of holes – everything taken by the water — people struggling to grab anything floating by to keep themselves steady in the raging flood. The water infested with rats and trash, the tide crashing hard against each new building it sought to destroy.

My home.

My mother.

I was outside myself.

It wasn’t like me to cry even now the hot tightening in the deep of my throat felt like a far away tunnel. I was frozen. Emotionally paralyzed. “I spoke to her yesterday. She’s all right. Right? She’s okay, isn’t she?”

Ira moved gently across the sparse room and caught my hand in his. Its warmth momentarily penetrating my numbness.

The commercial break ended. A grim Bill Surnow stood at the anchor desk to announce, “Early estimates for Hurricane Xavier are thought to include hundreds of thousands dead and many more missing. One source reported most of Brooklyn and Long Island shore entirely decimated. There is little hope the area will ever recover.”

Bill Surnow cut to a local reporter who was standing in the middle of an ER in Queens. “The hospitals are inundated with the injured. In Manhattan F5 winds cracked and shattered windows, glass chards sharp as daggers hurtled in every direction. The scene more gruesome than words could describe.”

I dialed my mother, Miriam’s home again. Again, no use – Mom’s cell phone message in a feminine dulcet voice, sang “All circuits are busy.”

The University where she worked, recited in an ancient automated voice, “You’re call can not go through. Please hang up and dial again.” I went through lists of friends and relatives, but to no avail.

I bottled up the urge to throw the phone across the room and instead demanded of Ira, “When?”

“Around noon the Weather Service started to see signs of a hurricane gathering…”

“But how?” I asked him.

“The conditions were just right off the coast of North Carolina…”

“But why? Nothing…” I stopped myself because my voice was starting to quiver. It was as if my cranium had cracked like a polar ice cap and it was melting so fast the water was drowning me. I raised my voice at Ira, “It’s impossible.”

Ira, who had arrived at my side to give comfort, retreated. “Take it easy, Psyche everything is going to be OK.” He said this with all the skill and assurance of a man who had never had to utter such words.

“Don’t tell me to take it easy. And it’s not going to be OK. My mother is missing. She’s probably dead and you have no answers. No one has answers.” I grabbed my coat and headed toward the front door. Ira followed me.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to think.”

“You can’t go out, it’s dark and late.”

But I darted past him and left. The storm that had hit New York was coming into town and it was cool and misty out. Ira busted out the front door and ran after me. “It’s dangerous.”

“I need to be by myself.” He tried to grab me, but I shook him off. “Please. Just leave me alone.”

“When will you be back?” He pleaded. He looked concerned and confounded. In eight years I had never raised my voice or shed the smallest tear in front of him.

It was starting to drizzle and I wiped a gathered tear of rain from his cheek and said, “As soon as I can.” A moment later I broke into a run and headed into a dark alley.

I felt a drop of water run down my face and I wasn’t sure if it was me, or the rain. But it didn’t matter. I roamed the streets dotted with city lanterns and sickly trees. The cold moon followed as if mocking my pain with a twisted snarl on her face. The rain halos around the street lamps tainted with memories of Brooklyn – things I tried to hold back but couldn’t – waving good-bye to my mom from the car as she stood on the stoop, never thinking it would be the last time I saw her.

That image I couldn’t shake no matter how long or far I walked.

I hadn’t noticed time slipping by or the pound of my footsteps or the chill or the rain soaking through me until I hit the Potomac and I stared at the obstacle it posed on my quest to loose myself. I had walked at least five miles and I knew I had to get back before Ira started a vain attempt to find me. It felt like the edge of the earth and the edge of time, I was crashing and splintering like a fine piece of porcelain hitting concrete.

And then I saw them. A woman about my age, in her early thirties, holding a small limp girl in her arms and struggling to walk the rain slicked stairs.

Logic told me not to, they could have been afflicted with a plague or a crime may have been taking place, but I ran toward them. Something compelled me. And for the first time I can remember, I discarded logic and apathy.

By the time I got to them the mother was struggling to put her dying child in the car. She was about to lay the girl on the sidewalk to open the door when I took her from the woman’s hands. She looked at me as if I had always been there like some sort of guardian angel. We said nothing. She opened the door and I slid the girl into the backseat. Seconds later the woman was backing out of the driveway, barely getting the driver’s side door fully closed as she sped down the street.

On the way home I wondered about them, whether the mother had gotten the girl to a hospital in time, if the girl would survive. Helping them had for a moment made me feel a little less helpless. And through my personal darkness I treasured that feeling like an heirloom.

Ira was fully dressed and ready to start his search when I let myself in. It looked like he had been crying. The flat screen was a cacophony of devastation behind him.

“If I wasn’t so happy to see you I’d strangle you right now,” he said grabbing me.

“I’m not a child.”

“And what? You didn’t think I’d be worried? Why are you punishing me like this?”

“This isn’t about you, Ira.”

“Yes it is. It’s about you not letting me in. I want to help you, but you make it impossible.”

I nodded. He put his arms around me and held me until I couldn’t be held any longer without breaking down again. “I’m sorry,” I said.

There was a repeat of an earlier news broadcast. It was a press conference with none other then my boss Paul Lamont. I sat down to watch it.

Lamont looked too put together, in a suit that would have cost an average person a year’s wages. He was unnaturally relaxed for the circumstances. “There has been a rush to judgment by the scientific community about the Atlantic’s rise in temperature and global warming. For years I’ve poured over countless studies, reviewed thousands of reports and culled through all the supposed proof. I’ve never found a correlation. The evidence is overwhelming for a natural shift in the Earth’s climate. This has occurred many times before human history. It’s unfortunate that we happen to be living during one of these intense global changes.”

I yelled at the screen, “Fucking asshole! Those studies were done by oil companies – they have no credibility. They’ve been discredited by every independent survey done by the scientific community.”

Paul then took a question from Bill Surnow. “What about the ozone hole?”

Paul responded, “Another natural phenomena caused by radiation emitted during solar storms. We’ve seen evidence of holes before in layers of igneous rock. And it’s been repairing itself over the past forty years.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

Ira cautioned me, “Just hold on a minute,”

Bill Surnow asked his follow up, “Are you suggesting all the horrible tragedies that have occurred over the past forty years, are simply a result of natural earth changes?”

“Absolutely,” Lamont said. He waived away any further questions and left the podium.

Ira sat down beside me. “I saw it this afternoon, but I don’t get why they’re still trying to cover up the global warming thing when it’s been proven countless times.”

I hit the rewind button and replayed Lamont’s speech, freezing a medium shot of him and examining it carefully. “There’s something strange about this. I was taken in to see him this morning at work.”

A curious Ira walked back in. He asked, “You were?”

“Strauch was there, too.”

“The President was at Digibio?”

I continued to stare at the screen trying to determine what exactly was different about Paul Lamont. Was his hair a little longer? I went through the catalogue of images fresh in my mind from the boardroom meeting. Yes. But without a physical picture, I couldn’t be sure. His clothes were obviously different. The suit most patently not something he would wear to work. Of course he must have changed. Then I noted something that confirmed my suspicion.

“This was prerecorded,” I said.

“What makes you think that?”

“When I saw him this morning he had a cut on chin.” I paused the image and zoomed closer, pointing to his chin. “There’s nothing there.”

Ira squinted. “They knew this would happen.”

“Yeah, and they didn’t give us any warning.”

“But why?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I can’t think about it right now.”

 

Think about this when you decide how to vote. Is this the world you want for your children? One in which science is disregarded and we have slick politicians ready to lie to you in order to save only themselves?

Best wishes and good luck,

Denise

 

Chapter 2 – Sleepless Night

(2044, January through June)

 

 

 

Gale force winds and thunder, garbage cans crashing over, objects slamming into walls and fences, and Ira slept through all of it like a kitten cuddling at his mother’s breast – but not me. My mind and heart were on fire.

Chi followed me, meowing for treats. It was cold downstairs. The angry wind forced its way between door and window cracks. I grabbed Ira’s ratty old sweater. The first present I had given him. It was the only thing left from that period of his life, perhaps a small reminder of how far he’d come since the penitentiary. I barely knew him then. We had dated about a year. He told me he worked for an Internet research corporation, a consumer watchdog group that kept an eye on the defense department – it had some crazy name I forcibly forgot.

There was never any question. I was instantly in love and hopelessly naive about human nature. Turned out he was part of a watchdog group of hackers who stole classified information and sold it to reporters for a premium. To him it was noble, the people had a right to know and he had a right to make a living. Really, it was closest to intellectual prostitution although he saw himself as a twenty first century Robyn Hood. He could have been building something great instead of hunting down and exploiting government weakness. But who was I to judge? I knew his heart was good and his intentions were pure. And I loved him. He loved me. So I waited.

We avoided talking about it. And if we had to refer to that period there was a code – words that lessened the pain or importance for both of us. Anything to make it less real than it was. Usually if I referred to it, I said, “When you lived in the country.” He usually said, “During that time.”

When I was hired at Digibio, they ran a background check. Nothing came up in the preliminary. A month later they revoked access to anything but the chlorophyll research lab and the cafeteria. But it didn’t really bother me.

The teakettle was singing. Only one bag of Chamomile left, hopefully it would help put me in a coma. And I could wake tomorrow discovering it had all been just a horrible nightmare.

The lights browned. The drawer had only three emergency candles left from the previous storm, which had ended two weeks prior. It had lasted thirty-five days straight and the power had consistently gone out during peak hours. According to the weatherman another hurricane was due to hit North Carolina. But other than historic value there was nothing left there. Both Carolinas were dead states. Neither state had money for scrims and except for folklore about people surviving off the land in the forest – there wasn’t a soul within a hundred miles of New York or D.C. And now all that was left was D.C. There were reports of a smattering of survivors in Seattle but the numbers were low.

I walked to the sofa and stared out the window, drinking tea. Chi sat on my lap. The rain was fierce and reminded me of New York, in my mother’s old brownstone. There had been a very bad storm when I was ten. We had both woken for different reasons. The thunder and lightening had cast shadows of monsters on the wall scaring me out of the room – while Mom contended with a real beast. She was setting out buckets all over the living room to catch the water oozing out of the fissures and cracks in the ceiling. Later I found out she had been afraid the whole damn roof was going to cave in on us, but at the time she pretended it was a game – a fun thing to do together. She had me searching for bowls, buckets, and hats – until each little fissure was represented by a counterpart on the worn hardwood floor – and when a bucket would fill, she would grab one of the mongrel cups or bowls from my loot while pouring the buckets contents into the kitchen sink and then dutifully replace them.

But even though she presented a calm rational exterior I knew something was very wrong. And I remember admiring her. She was fearless, capable and godlike. Nothing could harm me with her protection. She was able to keep the world away with her brilliant mind and convert anyone in her circle of influence to her point of view.

But that night I saw panic when she didn’t know I was watching. It was complicated seeing it and not wanting to see it. So I chose to believe the buckets were a game, knowing it was a protective lie – a lie affirming her love for me.

The streetlights flickered in the rain. Some UV scrims down the block looked as if a colossal box cutter had sliced them – they flapped in the wind like serpent shaped kites.

D.C. was tolerable. It was cleaner than New York and had a much more reliable and quick acting body pick up service unlike the Corner Hut Drop Off Centers of New York, which were always teeming with mutant flies and reeked of decaying flesh no matter how often the workers cleaned them out. It was an ineffectual system and a health hazard. But you hardly ever saw the dead on the streets like you did here in D.C., even if they didn’t stay long on the walkways you were still confronted with them daily.

Maybe it was a bit healthier here but I preferred New York. It felt more like an old city, with people doing all different sorts of things besides just working for the government or on some government related project. More than anything it was my connection to a personal history I missed – even if New York barely resembled the one of my youth and even if it never snowed anymore and the winters felt like warm fall days from childhood. I knew it. Somewhere under its fading, wilting petals the stem was the same.

And despite the elaborate scrim maze providing the best UV protection in the world (or so we were told by our government) I had preferred shabby New York. If only I could have gotten my mother to move. But that was like asking lead to turn into gold. And even though it got tiresome always wearing a protection suit or carry a UV umbrella or coating my skin with titanium dioxide which made me and my mom break out like hormonal teenagers if we so much as looked at the stuff, she would hear nothing of the virtues of my new city. She desperately loved all that was left of New York.

On the steps of the apartment building across the street a black shape moved. It was big enough to be a person but could have been a box or a piece of furniture left out for trash pick-up which had caught in the gale force wind, but most likely it was one of the infected. A crack of lightening lit the street clearly and I saw the woman. Skeleton Plague. Aptly named for the visual state it left its victims in – their skin and fat tissues were literally cannibalized by their bodies immune system and the results were a horrifying sight – skin turned paper white, taught and veiny, held up by the jagged tent poles of their bones.

The government said Skeleton Plague was communicable, but it was an autoimmune disease. The scientific community was still debating its genesis and treat-ability, but that was it. We knew something was turning white blood cells into cannibalistic machines, whether it was UV-B, UV-A rays or some other solar radiation mixed with pollution we weren’t certain. There was always a new outbreak during solar flares and there had never been any evidence of it being contagious, but people were afraid and the CDC had decided early on it was best to treat it like all the other plagues that had come down the pike and keep its victims quarantined. Those that got it generally spent a lot of time outside and didn’t alter their behavior during solar flare warnings or relied only on the city scrims to protect them. The woman had probably escaped from quarantine in a vein attempt to see her family one last time, but they wouldn’t open the door for her.

In the next crack of lightening I saw her convulsing. She was in the last throws of life. I called the health department and a few minutes later I saw a Hazmat team take her body away. No fanfare, no ceremony. Life reduced to inconvenient garbage. It hadn’t always been like that. I could almost remember a different time. Mom told me crazy stories about her childhood and what seemed like an Edenic period at the turn of the century. I never really believed her until I was in college and studied history.

…..

Blessings to all – our thoughts and prayers are with all of you on the east coast,

Denise

Premonition about Hurricane’s in New York

Still Standing

     The exact words that came to me by spirit on December 5, 2011 were, “It’s going to be a nail bitter between Obama and Romney even though it shouldn’t be. It will be close but Obama will win.” That is exactly what I heard.

     Later that voice said to me when I heard the words “Paul Ryan” the voice said, “This will be the nail in the coffin.” I took that to mean that there was no way the future could change once Romney picked him. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant since I knew nothing of Ryan or his policies. I assume that it meant Obama’s win was solidified and once I learned about Ryan’s policies I understood why it showed Romney’s hand in a negative way.    

     Romney aligned himself with the radical right and therefore those who may have been inclined to vote for Romney as the white “more business friendly” Obama – which of course he is not. (He’s actually got the social policies of a Victorian and the business ideas of the Wall Street guys who crashed the economy.) He would be a deadly choice and this is why spirit said to me, “it shouldn’t be.” Meaning people were going to be deceived by double talking, lying, manipulative turns of policy Romney would put out there in his grab for power above all – service to himself above all else. I stand by this despite everyone’s fear. I think there will be some sort of problem in Pennsylvania where voter fraud might be a problem – giving the state to Romney when Obama should be the victor. However Obama will still win despite this.

Best wishes,

Denise

Still Standing

Update: elections, migraines, politics, private readings

     OK, I know I said I would do readings again, but I have to go with the dreams and patterns that are happening. The very thing that has given me the gift of seeing the future was born out of a very difficult childhood and as a result I have neurological issues that are being triggered by taking on the stress of others. Someday in a book or on this blog I’ll go into it but for now I have to say I’ve had dreams about this being a bad idea for me.
     I have been doing extensive praying for the world. More than that I have been projecting psychic energy into the the collective unconscious to try and help all humanity, nature and keep us on the path toward saving this earth rather than destroying it.
     This is my work. This is what I am called to do, the blog is just one incarnation. Other versions of this will come out through my writing. I am someone who likes to remain hidden for reasons going back to my childhood. I have taken on much in my life – too much for me to bear at times.
     Right now I feel the pain of this world so intensely that I can’t take all the individual pain on right now. I wish I could,  but I am already starting to suffer from terrible neurological issues. Those of you who have read my blog for a while know I suffer from a rare debilitating kind of migraine – and as it turns out it’s not just one type but two.
     The more pain people unload on me the more violent and painful the migraines which I’ve been having again since saying I would do private readings. It’s also why I  felt I had to charge so much to make up for the down time. But it’s not for me right now. I have to be well and stay the course. I was getting healthy when I focused on my writing and this blog.
     I am thankful to so many of you who have been supportive. And I wish I could lift up those of you who are going through such terrible times. I do know however that things are going to get better and are slowly but surely.
     What we’ve all been through was huge and it is taking a Herculean effort by those good people who serve us in Washington to turn this around. Sadly, not everyone who goes into public service is good.
     I am not surprised by the venom with which the Republicans have shown in their comments toward me. I worked as the manager at a polling site in 2000 during the Gore-Bush election. I knew the outcome would be Bush in the Whitehouse and Gore would win the popular vote. I knew looking at their astrology. And I just knew it. I also knew there would be a tremendous amount of cheating on the side of Republicans.  Even in my district which was very Blue/Democratic they came in every hour during the morning to make sure and check to see what Republicans had voted – which is legal but the Dems didn’t do this, and then when the afternoon came and they didn’t come back in I noticed they had dropped off a bunch of Republican pamphlets instructing people on which candidates to vote for and which measures they felt were good. This is illegal. It is called electioneering. No one is supposed to put up signs or pass out pamphlets within 100 feet of a polling place. But they literally dropped them next to the legitimate literature people picked up before going into the booth. I was livid. Nothing was done. I called the police – they did nothing – the news was eclipsed by much bigger versions of this in Florida and alas we have history, 9/11, and two wars still going and the worst economic disaster since the 1929. Yet they pretend to freak out over what happened in Libya as if it was all the fault of the Obama administration when they got several memos stating that airplanes were going to be used to take down the Twin Towers. Really the nerve of these guys is disgusting. They wouldn’t take responsibility for that even though it was clearly their mistake – Condoleezza Rice said with no visible remorse that yeah, she’d seen the memo, but what were they going to do about it? How about get George Bush to come back from his 6 week vacation on his ranch and make plans to find the terrorists? That would have been a start.
     The election debacle or Republican coup – make no mistake it was no accident. When I went to the county with the pamphlets, they told me it had happened at EVERY POLLING PLACE in CALIFORNIA! Yes, and nothing was said or done about it. These are the people Obama and the Democrats are fighting against – people so greedy and desperate for power (think Smeogol in the Lord of the Rings) that nothing else matters but getting their way – by any means necessary.
     They are Machiavellian. Sorry to say, it’s not just an ideological difference – those who choose to go into leadership in this party are a very different sort of politician – not all of them, but most of them. I pray that this changes and we get back the good Republicans of old who were as dedicated to American values as Democrats are (pre-Nixon), but for the most part the Republicans are dedicated to tearing this country in two classes – wealthy and abject poverty so they can freely exploit those they wish like they did in the good old days when women didn’t have the vote and slavery was legal. Make no mistake we had a coup in 2000 and while I don’t believe they care enough about Romney to orchestrate such a broad scheme, they do fight dirty. And then they complain about it when they get hit back. It’s really disgusting.
     I’m not sure why the Republicans wanted Howdy Doody meets Forrest Gump as their leader except maybe he represented what appeared to be the perfect puppet. But a leader is NOT a puppet. The president makes the calls at the end of the day no matter what and I knew we were headed for terrible danger. I even wrote a book about it starting in 1999 when I finished the first draft. I saw the polarization of America coming. The set of rules for those in power and the rest of us and many other things that have come to pass and will if things go down that road.
     But there are good people in government – despite what cynics think and what Republicans believe. Even some good Republicans who haven’t gotten the memo out of willful ignorance of reality or perhaps just intense disregard for what the party has become.
     I know Obama is a good man. I know Hillary Clinton is putting herself through hell because she wants to help people. I can feel the people who are in politics not to grab power for themselves, but to lift people up and make this country a better place – true Americans who believe in the core of this country and the ideals that make it great.
     We have a choice. We have always had one. We have chosen the dark path on more than one occasion and corrected our mistake. Obama is a correction and he will continue to make this country better and the world better. He isn’t perfect and I don’t agree with everything he’s done but he has to give to get and we have to start somewhere.
     What I can tell everyone is: Obama is in politics because like me he wants to serve people. He believes in the goodness of humanity. And like me sometimes that’s not always easy to do when we are treated badly – when racism, sexism, or just mean-spirited, selfish people take aim at you.
     I would never lie and say that I don’t have an agenda. I do. I want to make this world a better place for all beings. I want so much for us to clean up our mess, to be kind and respectful of all life, to walk our talk. If you believe in God in any form then you should want what I do – to preserve creation. If you don’t you are not a man or woman of God – you are part of the dark side – the chaos – destruction. Count yourself down with the truth of that and I have no problems.
     What I can’t stand are hypocrites – those who claim to want what’s best and use hatred, racism, anger, misogyny and whatever twisted emotion we all struggle with against those who lack the introspection to be clear about what is happening. Think what you will of me, but I don’t get paid to write this blog. I do it because I hope and pray for a better world. And there are many other people out there like me who have put themselves in the sites of very bad people – people who would kill them – like Michael Moore who has constant death threats, just because he showed the world the man behind the curtain wasn’t always working for them.
     I wish all humanity could find that part of them that connects them to the Great Spirit/God/All Living Beings because if they did – there wold be no psychopaths, sociopaths or plutocrats. All would feel the pain of the other and empathy – the key to compassion and love would reign supreme as God intended it.
     Use your own intuition – do you see anything behind Romney other than used car salesman who just wants the job because his dad didn’t get it? The man has not one ideological bone in his body. As he has made clear he is a BUSINESSMAN. It was businessmen who crashed this economy 4 years ago. It was businessmen that shipped our jobs to China. It was businessmen who created the financial disaster we are in. As Romney said himself – it isn’t government who creates jobs – it’s business. So how can he create jobs if he doesn’t believe it’s the job of government to do so?
     Unfortunately for Romney history has proven him wrong. The Great Depression was defeated by government – by investing in hiring people, creating safety nets for the elderly, sick and widows – social security. Government did fix it and we had the MOST STABLE THRIVING ECONOMY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD until the deregulation that happened in the 1980s via Reagan. Shortly after what he did the banks collapsed then, too. Or is that too far back for people to remember? All those S &L’s went under and one of the Bush boys went to jail for it among many others.
     If you don’t believe me just look at history. You don’t have to be psychic, or liberal or anything, just read some facts, use your brain, put some things together, be smart and you’ll see that “Trickle Down Economics” means “Rich people getting Richer,” while you and your family struggle to keep afloat.
     Blessings to you who walks in the light despite the darkness,
     Denise
PS. I still stand by what spirit told me last December 2011 that Obama will win but it will be a squeaker. I’ve asked again and it has remained the same.
Update: elections, migraines, politics, private readings

Romney Deconstructed

Romney on debate night

Romney’s Chart

This is not with Romney’s birth time. But it gives us a great basic idea of the person he is. So Romney has his Sun, Mars, Mercury, Ceres all in Pisces. Pisces is a wonderful sign for psychics, spiritual leaders, and on the negative side con-artists and criminals. Pisces is ruled by Neptune and rules the 12th house.

Neptune is a trickster. It’s great for poets, writers, painters, oil men, spiritual people and psychics again but as Ernest Hemingway famously said all writers are liars. In this I believe he meant that to get to a greater truth writers have to twist facts and events to show the greater human drama behind the story. However these qualities are not great in a politician, a business leader or for someone in power.

Now lets look at all the Scorpio in his chart, the Moon, Jupiter and Chiron. Yes, and what does Scorpio rule –  the 8th house of power, death and rebirth also Pluto again death, destruction and it’s connected to the development of the A-bomb and WWII. It was discovered just before these horrific events occurred.

So water does all this water mean in his chart? Have you ever known someone with lots and lots of water in their chart? And not just water but mostly mutable planets. This is why he goes with the flow, changes on a dime and has no ideological compass. Everything he does is for emotional reasons including running for government. He like the last fellow Republican president and water sign George W. Bush, he feels first, and thinks second.

To be fair he does have a few planets in air Venus in Aquarius, Neptune in Libra and Uranus in Gemini which gives him that uptight, robotic vibe. He has two planets in Leo both outer planets, Saturn and  Pluto both in Leo. Romney has NO planets in Earth, which is probably why he has NO grounding in reality and why he can shift his ideological position faster than the Santa Ana’s whipping through a canyon.

Really, much like George W. Bush, his real motivation isn’t helping the American people or “creating new jobs” which he also said government can’t do according to him, so I’m not sure how he plans to do that and how he can promise that but that’s another issue… Romney’s reasons are emotional. He wants what his father had. He wants to be his dad – bottom line. He had nothing to offer but his own need to be important and live up to his father’s legacy.

It’s a sad state our country is in when a rich, dumb guy whose dad was a failed politician can get enough momentum based on the color of his skin and what hangs between his legs. And if your confused about whether I’m talking about George W or Romney, I’m talking about both.

We have a long way to go in this country. We’ve seen the underbelly of racism come out and we’re seeing misogyny in action with the Romney/Ryan ticket. A man whose grandpa had 5 wives and picked Ryan a man who wants to take away women’s rights, the ability for people to plan their family through contraception, change the definition of rape and put his sick wife through one of the most stressful situation any human being could be put through – running for President. She collapsed off stage after super Tuesday and was first diagnosed after Romney ran the Olympics. But I guess none of that mattered to him in making his decision. Any doctor would tell you that if you have MS the last thing you should be under is intense stress. If anyone noticed on that secret tape where he said he didn’t care about the 47%, he mentioned he wasn’t “using Ann” much. I’m pretty sure that’s why. One has to wonder how she can deal with all of it if she collapsed after super Tuesday. For her sake I hope he doesn’t win. She’ll for sure end up in a wheelchair or worse. It’s a terrible debilitating disease and if the roles were reversed and SHE were running for president and healthy and HE had MS, people would call her a selfish B.

Please make sure to vote,

Denise

Romney Deconstructed

Interesting

It’s interesting that Romney states “government doesn’t create jobs” whenever Obama points out the jobs his policies created. But yet he’s going to create jobs? Huh? Oh, he means jobs exploitative jobs in undeveloped countries. Right – keep the plutocracy alive. Forget about the dream of a world of middle-class, full bellied, humane place – naw, it’s best when rich people get richer and surpress power people.

Romney lies so much it’s impossible to even follow his logic or fight him. He’s a slippery dude – that’s what you get when 90% of your planets are mutable. He’s a human chameleon. You can’t pin him down because there’s no there to pin down. Man this is just unbelievable.

Ironically, he talks about how his policies are going to “create jobs,” but yet that’s not supposed to be the government’s jobs. Historically however lots of jobs were created by the government which is what us brought us out of the Great Depression – yes, it was the policies of FDR. He created lots and lots of new jobs.

Remember the “Great Recession” was created by Hoover – oh, I mean Bush. I saw that coming as well. Seriously, when Romney’s lips are moving – he’s lying. I also want to address something that is said about Romney, how he’s such a great “family man,” if this were true he wouldn’t be running for president when his wife has MS. If he did win she’d end up in a wheelchair or worse die from the stress. I know I have neurological issues that are not nearly as severe and stress is VERY BAD for people with neurological problems. Romney’s smug selfish aims to do nothing for the “47%” – meaning half the population, shows he really doesn’t care. I can only say that this guy has no ideological center. His state was 48th out of 50th in job creation when he was govener. He got Obama Care – I mean Romney care passed with the help of Democrats, that’s about all he got done. I hope people actually do research reality. And not the BS spewing from this disgusting used car salesman. He’s truly a terrible man. I didn’t want to get too political but next thing I’m going to do is really show you who the man behind the curtain is with his chart in a few minutes.

Best and VOTE!

Denise

Best

Denise

Aside

Strength and Weakness

I think it’s interesting Romney always talks about showing strength. Ironically, everything about his chart shows he’s duplicitous and weak. Whatever one thinks about Obama, weakness is not in his chart. He is the living embodiment of extraordinarily strong. Climbing from a broken family, half-black and living in no one place for any length of time – a fractured family. To come from all that and climb to the top job of the world through his Leo sincerity and strength of character. This is the typical Republican strategy – projection, using someone’s strongest quality against them when it’s actually the Republican candidate who embodies this quality think George Bush who faked his way out of serving in Vietnam “Swift Boating,” John Kerry.

It’s just sad.

Peace be with you and make sure to vote. You have no idea the darkness that will follow if we go back down the George W/Romney route. But unfortunately I do. And it keeps me up at night.

Denise

Strength and Weakness