I’m done dissing Trump. Consider it my own absurd megalomania to even begin to try to figure out what this colossus is up to.
Clandestine has moved over, too.
If you’re like me, you find yourself astonished as you endlessly scroll through twitter/X, showcasing Elon’s DOGE bombs, one after another after another — $84 million to Chelsea Clinton, HUH? I’m asking my accountant and get me an extension on filing my taxes this year. Because who knows? The IRS might be next to fall under the axe of the 19-25 year-old autist tech wizards working for Elon to disgorge all the waste, abuse, fraud, and downright treason in the federal government. Indeed, what we need is a tax revolution, and that is maybe what Trump’s “common sense revolution” is aiming towards. I’m not alone: X22 is now advocating a tax revolution out loud.
I remember, back in the mid-80s, when I was operating in full-on (mentally violent) peace activist mode, for two years officially refusing to pay federal taxes. But then I changed my mind: on a long walk during which I discussed the situation with myself, I concluded that if I continued as an official tax resister, it would likely dictate (and severely limit) my future. Was this the hill I was willing to die on? Now? (I was in my 40s). With a shudder, I realized that I needed to stop, back track, even see if I could get this expunged from my IRS record. My accountant found another accountant who knew how to do it: for $1000. Okay.
Yes, I compromised, consciously, and have resumed paying the damn federal tax every year since. My one consolation: because of my even deeper vow to live below money as far as possible, I rarely owe much.
But even ten cents is too much now.
And wow, has the world changed since the early 80s!
Hell, it’s been turned upside down in the past two weeks!
The floodgates have opened. We thought they were opened earlier, but that was nuttin’ compared to the moment by moment revelations now, and I’m sure the pace only going to accelerate — especially with both Neptune and Saturn beginning their shift into fiery Aries by late May — this Trumpian blitzkrieg that, if we are wise, and pay attention, each of us, to our own sovereignty as an embodied soul at one with all, we can sail through this nonsense, despite our destiny as passengers on a floundering ship of state, three sheets to the wind.
I am more and more astonished by how the Q posts predicted the future.
Yes, more and more, this does seem like a movie. Only we’re not the audience; we’re all players: what happens next, and what happens in the medium and long runs, all depends on our ability to root into this good Earth while lifting to the heavens, simultaneously,
centering in our open hearts,
feeling the Love coursing through
the revolutionary winds
of this storied, climactic time.
