Whadda bout the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps and Hezzbullah? They’ve been war making muey within Syria. Just a thought.

Yes, a tragedy.

Syria, like so many other Middle Eastern Muslim nations, are stuck in antiquity. They are tribal, and are all consumed about tribes, and vengeance. The only thing they hate more than each other is outsiders.

They cannot, nor will they ever, organize themselves into a productive society. They hate each other, they hate women, they do not value education, they are corrupt, they are governed by one despot after another.

Israel, a shithole in 1948, with effectively no natural resources, and a tiny land mass, has a gdp per person of over $40,000. What was once a shithole in a few short decades became a modern economy.

Syria, a shithole in 1948, remains a shithole, and looks to always remain a shithole. Syria GDP is a massive $2000 per person.

Syria is never going to be any more than a slum. It is more concerned with hate, than with creating a better life for its citizens.

And so these individual tragedies will continue. And the tragedies suffered by the boy in the story will be passed on to the next generation. And the next. And the next. And the next. Tragic? Yes. But it has been thus for centuries, and will be so for many more.

There is a story about a wealthy American businessman, who was hosting a wealthy African businessman. From the penthouse of the tallest apartment in the great city where he lived, he pointed out the city to the African and said proudly: “Five percent of all of this is mine!” A few months later, the American visited the African, and from his apartment atop the highest building in the city, the African pointed out to the city, a city in ruins and total squalor, consisting of shacks and dirt roads, with garbage and excrement everywhere, and said proudly: “All of this is mine!”

That is who these people are. They care not about society – they care only about being the one to rule it.

I don’t use youtube so I have no idea what this is (post webms or something), but a few years ago I saw a documentary about Syria that cohencidentally had the same children acting in it that were in a staged hospital bombing. Based moderate rebel allies.

So, ignoring the middle east for a moment. People are worried about what will happen to us. Or worse, worried about what will happen to the people who want us dead or their lemming flunkies.

Harden your fucking hearts.

Here’s a thought to hopefully help you with additional piece of the puzzle.

Psychopaths operate on their innate knoweldge of controlling others people’s actions based on their understanding of the average people.
Average people, dull, afraid of confrontation, beat down by the system and their own parents into compliance.

The 3% come from the opposite spectrum. We are as smart as the psychopaths in understanding the “average” people’s mindset and training. Our only difference is, I DON’T want to use that knowledge and abilities to manipulate average people to be my bitches. I have no interest to milk them for what they produce. I have no interest in getting pleasure from abusing their bodies/minds, or see them suffer. I have no pleasure of them being my slaves. I’m a GAMMA, I have ALL the ABILITIES of an ALPHA, WITHOUT ALPHAS SICK MENTAL DRIVE OF CONTROLLING/USING BETAS.

The reasons stated above, are the reasons why you, Stucky, are so threatened by me. You know deep in your heart you are inferior to me, you’re just unable to understand why. You keep trying to manipulate dumber people on this site for YOUR perceived/power/pleasure, AND not smart enough to make money off of your victims.

You want to see the present slave system for what it is? Look no further. Some people can and will torture you/animals. Some people can and will promise not to torture you if you give them what you make/money. Some people want to make this world a better place for all by using their abilities.

Alphas, Betas and Omegas. You’ve let the Psychopathic Alphas run this planet for the last 3000 years.

The Ghosts of Raqqa

The ghosts of Raqqa rise from sullen graves
As Americans shop for the latest dime store craze.
Innocent souls harshly expunged from this life
Moaning shades of heartbreaking human strife.
A forlorn widow wanders all alone
In a once proud city reduced to ash and bone.
Choking cement dust hangs heavy in the air
As the few remaining street urchins scurry here and there.
Once a jewel on the banks of the River Euphrates
Now consumed by blocks of blood strewn craters.
And beneath the mounds of Tall Zaydan
Lie the treasures of Babylonian Civilization.
Once conquered by Alexander the great
She served a Powerful Roman state.
The Goddess Nemesis has taken note of all this
And is ready to deliver her fateful kiss
To an Empire that has scorched many foreign lands
While its people picnic to summer gazebo bands.
And tho the destruction of this once Byzantine outpost is almost complete
The produce markets still line the battered streets.
The Residents with nowhere else to go
Can still see the battle on the horizon glow.
This sad and battered land
Reduced to piles of cement and sand;
Will rise again from ash and dust
To remind the world that we can and must,
Rise above the violence in our hearts
And do our best and do our part;
To end the scourge of wanton strife
And find for these innocent souls a new life.
To re-imagine our fare goddess Gaia
In the heart of long suffering Syria
To find for her an inner peace once again
That will never ever end.
And tho my heart from my country is wayward
This is my sincerest prayer!

I have lived through one civil war already while I was in the Peace Corps. Ah, the irony. Stucky, et alia, this for you, from the master, himself:

“… The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside — which the startled minister did — and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:
“I come from the Throne — bearing a message from Almighty God!” The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. “He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import — that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of — except he pause and think.
“God’s servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two — one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this — keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor’s crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

“You have heard your servant’s prayer — the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it — that part which the pastor — and also you in your hearts — fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these words: ‘Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!’ That is sufficient. The whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory — must follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God the Father fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!
“O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.”
(After a pause.) “Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits!”
It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.”

The War Prayer— Mark Twain