Tuesday, August 3, 2010

The Hedgerow Vs. The Industrialists

The sword marks the spot! Our dearest divine friends, A Hedgerow of Warring Angels, have granted us another divine visitation and we are blessed! In their circle of protection, we are safe!

All this time, no matter what the appearances may have been, we of the Residential Industrial Movement have enjoyed a wonderful protection. And with that, we have seen prosperity of the rarest kind. The major industrial powers have been brought low, basically cast upon a junk heap, while we have been raised up and made to prosper.

Every minute from our perspective has seemed like a struggle, but it's looking back on it in hindsight that we can see how, step by step, the goodness from above has given us success. And so it continues, whether at the highest levels of commerce -- turning raw rubber and rubber byproducts into tires or plastic and cushy stuff into disposable diapers -- or in these more incidental skirmishes, fending off a bunch of flesh-crazed industrialists at a local park. We can see the presence...

I didn't know I was being led in this. Just for kicks, I thought I'd superimpose my hedgerow of warring angels graphic over the industrial hole site. Let me repeat that: I did it just for kicks. But when I did, whatever smile I had on my face, anticipating nothing special, was quickly replaced with a look of true awe. I could feel my face transform itself from smiling to awe just like that. I would've loved to've had a video of it or at least been able to see it in a mirror, because it would've been memorable. As it is, the feeling is very vivid still in my mind. It's these kinds of experiences that make life truly worth the living.

Because look what happened! You can see the perfect alignment, which has to be supernatural. The largest angel, the one in the foreground, has his sword pointing right at the purple dot, and, perhaps more important, has his sword covering the place where I felt the hole had to be. That's like someone lobbing at brick at my heart, it hits me just like that. It's like someone hanging out the rug and hitting it, it just hits you where it counts. I felt my spirit soar and land somewhere very beautiful.

In that moment, when I saw that, I knew the industrialists were dead ... or doomed. Because it all lined up so perfectly, without any variance away from a bulls-eye. It's a word, it's a witness from above that these things are all well in hand, and that keeping the faith is and always has been the best course of action.

And it's not just a message to me personally, but to everyone in the Residential Industrial Movement, those who have taken the industrial reins in society and will maintain control. The message of doom to the others is a message of deliverance for the rest of us. How stunning!

Here's what we're dealing with, a movement that could've felt a severe inferiority complex, bordering on pathological. In the beginning, when we were trying to make a tire, let's say, we didn't know tread from lug-nuts. Which side was up, we didn't know. For those trying to generate electricity, we didn't know a turbine from a spinning wheel. We had Grandma there to show us how to kick the treadle. Five men were lost to superficial skin burns and 10 more were injured trying to pull them away.

So while we eventually prevailed, still there wasn't the kind of confidence and savvy, the moxie on the ball, that the major industrial powers could display. But now, what we see in this picture, this is a sign from above that all will be well. Again, that there is doom for the major powers and success for the little guy, the local man with his factory.

The majors got sloppy, you might say. They were out in the woods, over at the park, gathered around their hole, trying to lure us in. Until the hedgerow of warring angels, who gather 'round the righteous, came down and gave us this sign. Now we can see the fiery swords, the thrilling witness that all will be well, and that the victory indeed is ours!

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