>>2030
I like how people trying to appear sinister and mysterious, randomly capitalise odd letters like a 13 year old goth.

>>2030
Say what now? Is this a joke thread or not.

I can never tell with conspiracy mobs.

>>2050
It's a mix of people writing creative fiction, paranoiacs and the genuinely disturbed, pranksters and possibly players of obscure ARGs in my opinion. Yes, I think some of it at least is supposed to be funny. Some of it is also very dark.

The best article about the US military connection to GLP is at http://matrixofconspiracy.blogspot.co.uk/2009/05/who-really-runs-glp-godlikeproductionsc.html

Here's another crazy persons blog
http://kronin.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/is-artificial-intelligence-being.html
"Is Artificial Intelligence Being Developed to Sanitize History? " Apparently he works for Amnesty Int.

No one's posted about Rense.com yet?

That's the best there is.

>>2042
It seems interesting stuff. Thanks for sharing the links. I particularly like e prime, where a person refrains from saying 'is' or using the verb 'to be'. I use it when writing essays.

>>2047
I've ordered the book written by the founder, I'm looking forward to getting half way through and giving up.

Thought the US funded this ages and ages ago, but it ended up only having something like a 40-50% success rate so they binned it.

>>2056

From what I can make out the DIA Stargate program was indeed binned but more recently the NSA has been spending/wasting money on it.

>>2054
Probably some black ops shit. Not to be too 'tinfoil-hat' about things, but it's pretty likely that most governments on the planet are researching and practicing things that they'd rather keep away from the public and their fellow governments of the world.

>>2043

Would it be possible for OP to put the pastebin back up?

>>2071
OP here, it was a UGNazi paste,they just got busted, no copy saved here.

Found a copy of 'Psychic Warrior' memoir by a military remote viewer, highly bizarre.

>>2014
Hey Alan. Stop pissing about on .gs and finish Jerusalem will you!

>>2014

Slick, thanks.

>Does anybody know if it's possible for psychedelic drugs to aid in the creation of a tulpa alongside disipline?

Translation: I take self-delusion seriously enough to want to cheat at it.

>>2068
>I take self-delusion seriously enough to want to cheat at it.

Would it be cheating, or would it be taking the left handed approach?

>>2013
I heard this lad did it all the time!

>>2061
It's not our moon anymore anyway, it's the new improved Nibiru supermoon introduced by the Annunaki.

On a more serious note, anyone who has worked in A&E departments or in law enforcement may well have different views than these scientists about the dangers of full moons, based on empirical data.

>>2062
someone once tried to tell me that the gravitational pull gets stronger during full moons and makes your blood rise to your head thus lowering inhibition. I couldn't dismiss his theory because I had no alternative, also I'm not a relevant scientist but neither was he. Anyway it just sounded really stupid to me. sage for blethering.

>>2063
No scientist myself but if the moon can cause tidal waves it seems plausible that it can cause cunt-offs and tearies, 70% of a human body is water.

>>2063
If you want to know why it's bollocks, it's because gravitation is proportional to mass, and the mass of blood (or water) in your body is negligible, so there's no noticeable effect.

What makes cancer tenacious? The moon rules the fluids
Including the inner juices of human beings
That which assimilates and feeds the body
So the crab feeds his astral plane
Assimilating and distributing all he receives
Slowly, until it becomes apart of you
http://www.youtube.com/v/1ld_tF1AXqs

>>2021>>2023
>In 2005, Ian Ball set up a website from Broadmoor Hospital. On the site he explained that the kidnap was in fact an elaborate hoax set up by himself, offering 1 million pounds to anyone who could prove it was a hoax. Ball also paid £15 to the Anarchist magazine Class War for an advert to promote his cause. He later sent Class War a letter complaining of their cowardice in refusing to display the advertisement. Class War did actually run the advertisement in issue 90. In his explanation, Ball claims to be ‘the most dangerous working-class dissenter this country has ever had and is ever likely to have’. At the time of the attempted kidnapping Ball stated his intention was to raise a ransom of 2 million pounds for the National Health Service.

>>2019
I don't understand that :(

>>2027
A nicely sceptical article about the website is at http://www.rhamilton.co.uk/2011/01/princess-anne-and-kidnapper.html

>>2028
That article hardly tells us anything about the website, except for the info obtained from Whois.

>>2058

It subtly suggests that Ian Ball did not write the site and that the whois info is fraudulent. It also poses some ethical questions to Broadmoor's management, not renowned for their honesty or human rights record.

This picture frightens me and I don't know why.

>>2039
Could it be the lady's face in in the bottom left?

>>2040

Fucking hell, I didn't even notice that. But I think it's because I'm in the middle of a week long drugs binge which has rendered me unable to sleep and is making that jpg spin and warp around. It looked like that lamp was a demon moving the glass part. Also there is a zombie old man outside.

>>2038

It's Sylvester Stallone's mum.

There wasn't an article from February 2012 in the video.

>>2032
</thread>

>>2033

I'm not suggesting that the aliens are coming m8 but at least have the good grace to watch the video.

http://www.youtube.com/v/Fi8sh3DcC8I

>>2034
Ok fair enough, I only watched the first clip in the first video and it looked exactly like a sonic boom.

Noice. Though I don't go "oooooh" usually unless they change direction or something which sets them apart from some astronauts snotty tissues.

http://www.youtube.com/v/Q2DVeil21gc
This tether is 12 miles long btw.

Running through my mind as I was reading this:-
Politics, politics, politics, politics, fuckingwhatnow?

(bearing in mind I was browsing /*/):

>>1655

Now you're honor bound to read them all thoroughly and give use a detailed report.

>>1656
Sha'n't. I shall, however, point out that http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Sefer_Yetzirah and http://www.sacred-texts.com/jud/yetzirah.htm have differences, despite claiming to be the same translation.

>>1657

God works in mysterious ways.

>>1657
>I shall, however, point out that http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Sefer_Yetzirah and http://www.sacred-texts.com/jud/yetzirah.htm have differences
>>1655
>I was hoping for a couple of book recommendations that give an overview rather than a place to begin actual study
Too late. You've already started.

http://www.hadeanpress.com/

>We produce occult books, journals and pamphlets in standard and handbound editions

It's lovely

>>2004
The lucky sod, all I see is my shiny, weeping helmet.

At least, guys, you have an original content.
Haven't seen fresh creepy (or sort of) story at our soviet boards since '09.

>>2006
You can keep it mate. This is the uncreepiest pasta I've ever read.

>>2006
That's true. I appreciate this.

>>2000

>I used to live in Lancashire; A fairly large town in the United Kingdom.

I stopped reading after this gaffe.

>>1941
Maybe he's not a student though.

Maybe he's not a learning animal at all, eh?

>>1941

Wait, are you saying that >>1812 is "realistic and knows what he's talking about in this area"? Aside from the very obvious samechap, absolutely not lad.

Also just a point of information: Somewhere in the seven-paragraph lunacy of >>1812 he mentions EMP weapons. The most effective EMP weapon is a nuclear device detonated at altitude, so EMP weapons themselves are no use.

We have a large solar storm heading our way today if anybody's interested. It's not going to be the apocalypse but there's a real possibility that mobile phones will stutter and radio signals will increase or decrease in range. The last time something like this happened, people could pick up random radio stations from different continents for a day or so.

There'll be an increased aurora if you're somewhere close by. The technical term is "coronal mass ejection". It's not rude.

>>1945
I suppose next up is "I'd eject my corona into her mass, IYKWIM"

>>1941
>If you want to know about a specialist area, you ask an expert.

Exactly. So if you want to know about the effects of induced electrical currents, you ask an electrical engineer, or someone who bases their knowledge on something more than a post from above top secret.
Or you could go along with someone like >>1812, who has nothing to add apart from a smug, screaming, frothing rant about the end of the world and how we're all going to die because we're not as clever as him, and fails to address a single point, instead choosing to claim that electricians and electrical engineers don't know anything about electricity.
>>1814 still stands
>You're a smug, condescending idiot and you don't know what you're talking about.

>>1945

I agree that >>1812 is somewhat of a raving lunatic, but >>1809 is still stupid to dismiss it all as a load of bollocks. The worst case scenario is not that "the lights go out for a few minutes", it is a worldwide period of chronic blackouts and brownouts, potentially continuing for months.

Power stations themselves are reasonably well protected, but most of the infrastructure is still very old and suffering from poor investment, and even if it was all replaced now research in the area is still ongoing and there is no perfect protection against it. In a mild storm what will happen is that no physically damage would occur, but the useful capacity of the grid will be decreased significantly due to reactive power, which would only cause problems during certain times of the day when demand is high. In a moderate storm, what will happen is that the grid will have to be turned off for the duration, and then it can't simply be switched back on straight after. A severe storm may not happen, or may just happen once, but it could cause a lot of damage to the infrastructure which could be fixed in a matter of weeks, but with our government it would likely take months to get back to full capacity.

http://palermoproject.com/Mars_Anomalies/PhobosAnomalies1.html

I read this short story a while back and I think anyone who's posted in this thread will enjoy it, so I hope you lot don't mind a bit of /lit/-ish derailment. It's by a chap called Ray Bradbury, a fairly prolific science fiction author (Fahrenheit 451 will be the one of his you've heard of).


Kaleidoscope
The first concussion cut the rocket up the side with a giant can opener. The men were thrown into space like a dozen wriggling silverfish. They were scattered into a dark sea; and the ship, in a million pieces, went on, a meteor swarm seeking a lost sun.
“Barkley, Barkley, where are you?”
The sound of voices calling like lost children on a cold night
“Woode, Woode!”
“Captain!”
“Hollis, Hollis, this is Stone.”
“Stone, this is Hollis. Where are you?”
“I don’t know. How can I? Which way is up? I’m falling. Good God, I’m falling.”
They fell. They fell as pebbles fall down wells. They were scattered as jackstones are scattered from a gigantic throw. And now instead of men there were only voices-all kinds of voices, disembodied and impassioned, in varying degrees of terror and resignation.
“We’re going away from each other.”
This was true. Hollis, swinging head over heels, knew this was true. He knew it with a vague acceptance. They were parting to go their separate ways, and nothing could bring them back. They were wearing their sealed-tight space suits with the glass tubes over their pale faces, but they hadn’t had time to lock on their force units. With them they could be small lifeboats in space, saving themselves, saving others, collecting together, finding each other until they were an island of men with some plan. But without the force units snapped to their shoulders they were meteors, senseless, each going to a separate and irrevocable fate.

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“Let’s talk. We haven’t anything else to do.”
The captain cut in. “That’s enough of that. We’ve got to figure a way out of this.”
“Captain, why don’t you shut up?” said Applegate.
“What!”
“You heard me, Captain. Don’t pull your rank on me, you’re ten thousand miles away by now, and let’s s not kid ourselves. As Stimson puts it, it’s a long way down.”
“See here, Applegate!”
“Can it. This is a mutiny of one. I haven’t a damn thing to lose. Your ship was a bad ship and you were a bad captain and I hope you break when you hit the Moon.”
“I’m ordering you to stop!”
“Go on, order me again.” Applegate smiled across ten thousand miles. The captain was silent. Applegate continued, “Where were we, Hollis? Oh yes, I remember. I hate you too. But you know that. You’ve known it for a long time.”
Hollis clenched his fists, helplessly.
“I want to tell you something,” said Applegate. “Make you happy. I was the one who blackballed you with the Rocket Company five years ago.”
A meteor flashed by. Hollis looked down and his left hand was gone. Blood spurted. Suddenly there was no air in his suit He had enough air in his lungs to move his right hand over and twist a knob at his left elbow, tightening the joint and sealing the leak. It had happened so quickly that he was not surprised. Nothing surprised him any more. The air in the suit came back to normal in an instant now that the leak was sealed. And the blood that had flowed so swiftly was pressured as he fastened the knob yet tighter, until it made a tourniquet.
All of this took place in a terrible silence on his part. And the other men chatted. That one man, Lespere, went on and on with his talk about his wife on Mars, his wife on Venus, his wife on Jupiter, his money, his wondrous times, his drunkenness, his gambling, his happiness. On and on, while they all fell. Lespere reminisced on the past, happy, while he fell to his death.
It was so very odd. Space, thousands of miles of space, and these voices vibrating in the center of it. No one visible at all, and only the radio waves quivering and trying to quicken other men into emotion.
“Are you angry, Hollis?”

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It was, of course, ridiculous. Only a minute before he had been giving advice to others, to Stimson; he had felt a braveness which he had thought to be the genuine thing, and now he knew that it had been nothing but shock and the objectivity possible in shock. Now he was trying to pack a lifetime of suppressed emotion into an interval of minutes.
“I know how you feel, Hollis,” said Lespere, now twenty thousand miles away, his voice fading. “I don’t take it personally.”
But aren’t we equal? he wondered. Lespere and I? Here, now? If a thing’s over, if s done, and what good is it? You die anyway. But he knew he was rationalizing, for it was like trying to tell the difference between a live man and a corpse. There was a spark in one, and not in the other – an aura, a mysterious element.
So it was with Lespere and himself; Lespere had lived a good full life, and it made him a different man now, and he, Hollis, had been as good as dead for many years. They came to death by separate paths and, in all likelihood, if there were lands of death, their kinds would be as different as night from day. The quality of death, like that of life, must be of an infinite variety, and if one has already died once, then what was there to look for in dying for good and all, as he was now?
It was a second later that he discovered his right foot was cut sheer away. It almost made him laugh. The air was gone from his suit again. He bent quickly, and there was blood, and the meteor had taken flesh and suit away to the ankle. Oh, death in space was most humorous. It cut you away, piece by piece, like a black and invisible butcher. He tightened the valve at the knee, his head whirling into pain, fighting to remain aware, and with the valve tightened, the blood retained, the air kept, he straightened op and went on falling, falling, for that was all there was left to do.
“Hollis?”
Hollis nodded sleepily, tired of waiting for death.
“This is Applegate again,” said the voice.
“Yes.”
‘I’ve had time to think. I listened to you. This isn’t good. It makes us bad. This is a bad way to die. It brings all the bile out. You listening, Hollis?”
“Yes.”
“I lied. A minute ago. I lied. I didn’t blackball you. I don’t know why I said that. Guess I wanted to hurt you. You seemed the one to hurt. We’ve always fought Guess I’m getting old fast and repenting fast I guess listening to you be mean made me ashamed. Whatever the reason, I want you to know I was an idiot too. There’s not an ounce of truth in what I said. To hell with you.”
Hollis felt his heart begin to work again. It seemed as if it hadn’t worked for five minutes, but now all of his limbs began to take color and warmth. The shock was over, and the successive shocks of anger and terror and loneliness were passing. He felt like a man emerging from a cold shower in the morning, ready for breakfast and a new day.
“Thanks, Applegate.”
“Don’t mention it. Up your nose, you bastard.”

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The remains of Vladimir Komarov.